by Amy Brent
“Thanks,” she said.
“Can I come in?” I asked.
“Whatever.”
I walked in behind her and shut the door while I heard her footsteps recede behind me. I couldn't let her shut herself in her room without talking, so I kept my back to her and just called out. Maybe if she didn’t see my face, I would be less threatening, or maybe if she thought I didn’t see hers, she would be more willing to be vulnerable.
To be real. To be truthful with me for once.
“How could you possibly think I could do something like that to you after what we’ve been through?” I asked.
“It’s the only logical explanation,” she said.
“Not when multiple people know, Bridget.”
“My agent’s the only other person, and—”
“Maybe she started it for publicity?” I asked.
“Why the hell would she do something like that?” she asked.
“Because the movie you just shot before you hired me was about a woman with a different identity who meets a man who shows her how to move forward instead of backward. Maybe she’s drumming up publicity for the movie and then pawning it off as a stunt? Either way, it’s plausible.”
“Why would she do that to me?” she asked.
I turned around at looked at her, tears streaming down her face while she guzzled her coffee. She was war torn and exhausted, and all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around her and keep her sheltered from all of this until I could figure it out.
“Because in the end, people are always money hungry,” I said.
“It’s technically plausible,” she said, sighing.
“Bridget, look at me.”
Her eyes slowly rose to my gaze, and I knew the moment she locked them on me that I had her. I knew she saw the innocence and desperation behind my eyes. The burning need to get her to accept the truth.
“I didn’t do this,” I said. “I swear to you.”
And at that very moment, she broke down and ran to me. She dropped her coffee, and it splashed all over the floor. Her shivering body came barreling into mine. She wrapped her arms around my waist, and I pulled her close into me, peppering the top of her head with kisses while she cried into my chest.
“What is happening to me, Thomas?” she asked. “Why? Why is this happening?”
“I don’t know, Bridget. But I swear to you, I’ll figure it out.”
“I gotta go to the studio today. We couldn’t—”
“It’s all right,” I said. “Let’s get you cleaned up and get you to the studio.”
For now, everything was all right. I helped her upstairs and into her shower and stood in the bathroom while she cleaned herself up. She was so weak and tired, and I was petrified of leaving her in there by herself. I was concerned she would slip and fall, possibly crack her head open or break a bone. I needed her to be safe, if anything from herself.
“What time do you need to be at the studio?” I asked.
“Thirty minutes,” she said. She was now dressing in her room, and I was standing out in the hallway. She emerged looking a little more rejuvenated, though I could tell the past couple of days had really weighed on her. I could only imagine how scared she had been without someone here to watch her back, and as I put my hand on the small of her back to escort her downstairs, I felt her lean heavily into my touch.
“I’m right here,” I said. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
We got to the studio, and they threw her right into a sex scene. Something told me this was the scene she was babbling about when she was crying, about not being able to do it or something. But as I watched the steamy scene unfold before my very eyes, something told me she had her mojo back. Her sounds were spot on, and her nipples were rock hard. Her co-star was sweating from her grinding against his covered dick while I was trying not to palm my own as I watched. Her tits flailed around, and at one point, she rolled him over and sat on top, and the director was drinking up the entire shot and encouraged them to keep going.
The way she puckered her lips and the way she rolled her hips brought back memories of what she looked like whenever I pinned her to the wall. That helpless look, coupled with those powerful hips of hers, forced me to turn around and resituate myself, and when I did, my raging cock leaked a bit into the hem of my boxers.
“Shit,” I said.
“And, cut!” the director said. “Bridget, I don’t know what the fuck you did, but brilliant. Let’s move on to the next scene. As far as I’m concerned, that was redemption from yesterday.”
I turned back around and saw Bridget running toward me. I picked her up and swung her around before I landed a passionate kiss upon her lips, and I could feel her nipples raking against my chest.
“How was it?” she asked.
“Perfect,” I murmured into her lips.
Each and every scene rolled by just as perfectly, and by the time we were on the road, it was only three that afternoon. The director was practically kissing her ass trying to make sure she’d bring that kind of A-game tomorrow, and Bridget was all smiles when we got into the car and started back to her home.
“God, it’s nice to have an early day,” she said.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Like I could use a nap.”
“Care for some company?” I asked.
“Don’t tempt me, Thomas. I know your mother must’ve taken Lacey to school for you to have shown up as early as you did. You need to be there to pick her up today.”
“See?” I asked.
“See what?”
“That right there. Why would I have jeopardized something with a woman who cares about my daughter as much as you do?”
She looked over at me with her big, bright eyes, and something seemed to finally click into place for her. She nodded her head while she dug around in her pocket for her phone, ripping it out and scrolling through her contacts. I knew who she was about to call. I was just shocked when she put in on speakerphone.
“You sure you want me to listen to this?” I asked.
“You’re my bodyguard, right? Don’t you wanna know if you need to protect me from my own agent?” she asked.
She had a fair point, so I gave her a nod and leaned back just as Linda picked up the phone.
“Make it quick, I’ve got ten minutes until my next meeting,” Linda said.
“Hey, you remember that note that was left on my door?” Bridget asked.
“What about it?”
“Are you sure there was no one you told?” she asked. “Even like, insinuated something to? Maybe for publicity for the movie coming out or something?”
“Bridget. Every time you pop up in a headline, you’re either out with that bodyguard, drunk at a club, or gabbing with your friends. There’s a better chance you got drunk and spilled the beans.”
“Linda, I’m just trying to cover my corners. Thomas said—”
“Look. You and your first-name-basis bodyguard are none of my business. You’re not the only actress I manage, and trust me, I can’t keep up with half the secrets you guys walk around with. I’ve got better things to do, like this meeting I’m taking for you, by the way, than to worry about how much of a mess you’re making your life.”
“I need to hear you say it,” Bridget said. I could tell she was holding back tears, and I didn’t blame her. It was astounding to me that this woman was employed by Bridget and was talking to her this way. I was sure a million other agents in Hollywood would’ve given their left testicle to manage the Bridget Meyers.
“I didn’t mention your little secret you enjoy blaming me for,” Linda said.
“Linda, you know that’s not—”
“Gotta go. Meeting time. Talk to you when it’s imperative.”
And with that, the phone call was done. Bridget turned off her phone and slid it back into her pocket. Then she settled in for the rest of the ride in a sudden silence. The air was thick with tension, and I could tell a million thoughts a se
cond were running through her mind, but all I did was slip my hand over and wrap it around hers. Right now, she didn’t need someone to tell her what to do. She didn’t need commands or admissions or new theories or even headway on what was happening.
Right now, all she needed to know was that she wasn’t alone and that she was safe.
And I could provide her with both.
“We’ll be home soon,” I said. “Then, you can take as long of a nap as you want.”
“And you’re free to go get Lacey from school,” she said.
But little did I know what we would run into when we pulled up into her driveway, and it made me thankful I’d asked my mother to be on standby that morning.
Chapter 29
Bridget
“Park down the street,” Thomas said.
“What?” Bernie asked.
“Something’s wrong with the house,” Thomas said. “Park on the side of the road and let me walk up.”
“Thomas, what?”
“Bridget.”
Thomas turned and looked at me with a fury that was both stunning and petrifying. His eyes were stern, and his jaw was set. I could see his hand was already trained onto his gun.
“Thomas, what’s going on?” I asked.
“When we rounded the corner, I looked up at the house, and someone was running around it. Bernie, park the damn car at the bottom of the driveway and stay here.”
“On it, sir,” he said.
“Thomas,” I said. Tears were forming in my eyes, and my hands reached out and grabbed his arm. I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want him to get hurt. I knew I had hired him as my bodyguard, but something inside of me was petrified of letting him go on his own.
“Bernie, if something happens, if you hear a gun or grunting or anything that ricochets down the driveway, get Bridget out of here and take her to this address.”
I watched Thomas type something into his phone before I watched Bernie plug in a foreign address into his GPS. This was happening. The person that had left the note had finally grown the balls to come for me, and the idea of Thomas possibly whisking me away via Bernie to a place I didn’t recognize made me sick to my stomach.
“Thomas, please,” I begged.
“Stay here,” he said. “You’ll be safe, I promise.”
He leaned in and kissed the side of my head before he threw his door open and my heart sank to my toes. For the first time since I’d hired Thomas, I felt truly helpless and vulnerable.
“Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay.”
I chanted that mantra in the back of the car while I listened out for anything that might have been happening. Thomas slowly creeped up the driveway with his gun in his hand, then disappeared over the crest and left me. Everything in my head was whirling, and my hands were trembling, but Bernie tried to console me while I tucked my shaking hands between my legs.
“Mr. Jeffries is very capable of taking care of this,” Bernie said. “You’re going to be just fine.”
“Yeah, but what about him?” I asked. “Who’s gonna make sure he’s all right?”
I heard a loud crash ricochet down the driveway. Bernie yanked the car from park, but I knew I couldn’t leave Thomas behind. I couldn’t leave without him and not know if he was all right, and I sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere without knowing if Lacey would get her father back.
So I unbuckled my seatbelt and jumped out of the car just as Bernie started to pull off.
“Miss Meyers!” he yelled. “Get back in this car!”
I ran up the driveway, stumbling with every step I took. Every single scenario that could’ve possibly happened was running through my mind: someone had shot Thomas, and he was lying in a pool of his own blood, or someone had clobbered him through the front door, and he was unconscious. Maybe he had shot someone and was now calling an ambulance or maybe they were fighting in the middle of the driveway with blood trickling down their faces.
Either way, my soul panicked at the idea that Thomas was not all right, and I couldn’t leave this house without him.
Without him beside me.
“Thomas!” I shrieked. “Thomas! Where are you?”
I finally got to the top of the driveway, and I saw him sitting on the ground. There was something flailing underneath his body while a baseball bat rolled down the driveway toward me, but when I went to go pick it up, I heard Thomas’ booming voice.
“Kick it off to the side, Bridget. Don’t touch it.”
I kicked my foot out and shoved the bat into the grass before I approached the scene. The man Thomas was sitting on was bleeding from his nose, and he was quickly giving up the fight underneath Thomas’s body. I heard Thomas talking into the phone in his ear, probably calling for backup or help or something like that.
But all I could do was look at the face staring back at me.
“You,” I said.
“You know this man?” Thomas asked.
“That’s the guy from—”
“The club?” Thomas asked. His eyes cascaded down to the man who had finally given up trying to get out from underneath him, and he stood to his feet before he grabbed the man by his shirt.
“Thomas?” I asked.
I watched Thomas hoist this man into the air by his collar before his fist came around and cracked the man right in the jaw. I shrieked as the man tumbled to the ground, writhing in pain while unadulterated anger burned behind Thomas’ eyes.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked.
But all the man did was roll over onto his back and cough up blood. Thomas kicked him in his rib cage, and I ran over, tugging on Thomas’s arm and trying to get him to stop.
“He can’t move, Thomas! It’s all right! I’m safe.”
“He stalked you, Bridget,” Thomas said. “He cornered you in that club, and now he’s at your house with a baseball bat.”
I ripped Thomas away from the man while sirens sounded in the distance, and I walked over to his side, hovering over him. He looked harmless with all the blood running down his face. His eyes, prying and desperate, were so familiar from the club that night, but something else was mixed in with them.
Or rather, something else was absent.
“Are you the one that left that note on my door?” I asked.
He nodded as the sirens got closer, and that’s when I heard Bernie finally crest the driveway with the car and stop at the scene of the crime.
“Bridget, we need to get you away from here,” Thomas said.
“Hold on,” I urged. “Were you?”
“Yes,” he said, choking.
“How did you figure out my secret? Huh? Who told you?”
I watched him while his eyes studied mine. I was waiting for him to say Linda. I was waiting for him to say my bitch of an agent had betrayed me, that she had finally opened her big mouth to someone and that it backfired.
I wanted to hear that it wasn’t Thomas.
“I just followed you,” he said.
“What?” I asked.
“From the club that night,” he said.
“You followed me from the club?” I asked.
“Yeah. It’s how—”
“It’s how you found out where she lived?” Thomas asked.
The man nodded, and that was when I realized the grave error I had made. The secret the note was discussing wasn’t my identity, but simply where I lived. This piece of trash had made my life a living hell over a refused dance, and the entire time, I accused Thomas of blabbing my identity to someone when really, someone just fucking figured out where the hell I lived.
The sirens in the distance got closer and closer, and Thomas took my arm and escorted me over to the car.
“Get in and stay there,” he said. “I’m gonna talk to these guys real quick. Then we’re gonna get the hell out of here for a while.”
“Good,” I said. “Because I don’t feel safe here anymore.”
I ducked into the car just as police cruisers wound aroun
d my car. The bleeding man lying on the ground was yanked up by a police officer and cuffed right in front of me while Thomas gave his account of what happened. Then, they looked over at the car and pointed. I was so scared I was going to have to talk to one of them, scared I was going to have to open myself up to yet another person, but the police officer bypassed my car and went back to his without a second glance.
I watched them silently load the bleeding man from the club into the police cruiser after a medic looked his face over. Then everyone began to pull out while Thomas made his way back to the car.
“You all right?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “I don’t feel safe here. I don’t want to go inside. Just get me to a hotel, and I’ll be okay for the night. There’s a nice one nearby.”
“You’ll come home with me,” Thomas said.
“What?” I asked.
The door opened, and Thomas sat down beside me before he looked at Bernie and rattled off his home address.
“We gotta go get Lacey at my parents’ place, but you’re gonna come be with us for a bit. Just until you feel safe again. I can watch over you, Lacey will be ecstatic to see you, and you’ll still be in familiar territory.”
