Guarded: A Bodyguard Romance (Alpha Second Chances Book 5)

by Rowena

  “What makes you say that?”

  “The way he looks at you. He didn’t do it a whole lot because looking at you probably means the rest of the world drops away and he’ll miss signs of danger.”

  One thing about Kiara, she’s blunt. But she’s also pretty perceptive. Her observations about stuff and people tend to be spot on.

  “He’s got it so bad, I’d started wondering if he was the one behind the messages—the obsessed freak in the flesh.”

  “Boy, I don’t know how you got all of that from a guy just doing his job. He’s supposed to keep his eyes on me in a way, and I know he comes off as pretty intense—his job made him that way. If it seems he’s a little more...into me than the usual bodyguard, it’s ‘cause we’ve known each other for years. He’s one of my ex’s close friends; he hung out with us a lot.”

  Kiara sort of laughs. “That explains it. He probably fell in love with you during that time. No wonder he ‘volunteered’ to help you so quickly. You said he gave you a steep discount—how steep?”

  I feel sort of guilty, almost like I’ve been caught in a lie. I almost don’t want to tell her the details—they’ll just confirm her theory.

  “A reduced lump sum,” I say flatly.

  She gives me a look but lets me get away with being vague.

  “Well, I’m not sure if he’s obsessed or anything, but he definitely has eyes for you. How do you feel about him?”

  “I...well, we get along really well. We were like friends back in the day; our personalities just meshed. We could talk about almost anything—anything outside of my relationship with Leonard, of course.”

  “I see. So you like him too?”

  “No!” I say quickly. “Not like that. I mean, he’s obviously good-looking, but with our past—and present—circumstances, it’s obviously not a good idea to go in that direction...”

  Kiara bubbles into laughter, halting my babbling.

  “Sounds like you’ve got it bad yourself. Don’t bother denying it—you better at least acknowledge what’s happening so you can keep your eyes open better. The things that trip us up are usually right under our noses.”

  Kiara and I head back to our table after a quick assessment of teeth and hair.

  “What do you do for the rest of the day?” James asks once he and I return to my apartment.

  “Maybe shoot another video, read, research, work on my website, plan another week of content, explore opportunities to branch out, etc. Do you plan to be here with me throughout the day while I do all the boring stuff?”

  “If you want me to be. Are you sure you just want me for your outside errands? Or do you want protection day and night?”

  “Probably just during the day when I leave the building. I mean, when would you sleep?”

  “I’d bring on a trusted party for the second shift because no, I can’t do my job properly with zero sleep. In the meantime, I don’t have to hang out here during your day—I’ll just wait in my car. ”

  He gives me a departing nod and is gone before I can reconsider.

  “I’ve been looking forward to this part,” James says when he reenters my apartment a few hours later.

  I wonder what he did in his car?

  I felt kind of bad for kicking him out to wait downstairs, but part of this glorious life of mine is having my own space. I like operating without someone nearby, possibly looking over my shoulder.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, watching him place his hand on his flat belly.

  “Dinner!” he says joyfully. “What’s the plan?”

  “Oh!” Why the heck did my mind go to the gutter instead of the most logical explanation?

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about trying jerk chicken. But I didn’t expect company today, so you don’t have to suffer my experimentation...”

  “I’d love to be your guinea pig! I can even film you making it—you can stockpile the footage.”

  “That’s actually not a bad idea. I suppose it’s nice to mix it up and have shaky footage instead of the stability provided by a tripod once in a while...”

  “Ha. ha. I can get you at different angles. Close up, sideways... Can your tripod do that? This’ll probably be your most popular video. The most... dynamic.”

  “Not sure if I should be insulted.”

  “Definitely not. Once you’re in the shot, it’s dynamic. Your popularity is all about you—that’s what people tune in to see. Not the lipstick or the salad, but you applying it, making it.”

  His voice softened a little, and I’m not sure how to interpret it. He seems sincere, but it’s more than that—it’s almost like adoration.

  Probably just my imagination again.

  “Okay, so jerk chicken and potatoes and maybe some kind of salad it is. I’ve got all the ingredients, and I’ll lay ‘em out for the first shot. I’ll shoot that one, and then I’ll go over with you how to use the camera. We’ll see what happens. If I can use the footage, great. If not, no big deal; I can always shoot it again later. I don’t mind eating the same meal twice.”

  “That was amazing,” James says as he puts his fork down and leans back a little in his seat.

  “You’re just saying that,” I say automatically, but his plate is practically licked clean.

  Plus, I watched him closely as we ate, and he really seemed delighted by it, his usual cold blue eyes lit up in an almost boyish way.

  If I say so myself, the meal was actually super delicious; it turned out better than I’d hoped.

  Plus, I had way too much fun arranging our plates and presenting his dinner to him.

  “You know I’m not blowing smoke up your ass; I’d tell you if it could use some work. I’m not letting you get away with a steep discount and bland food. You will make this thing worth my time, woman.”

  I laugh.

  Shooting the video with him was way too much fun, and as we shot the breeze while we ate, it reminded me how much we enjoyed each other’s company before. Everything feels natural and easy and warm—a stark contrast to going about the day outdoors.

  I know he was being vigilant while on duty, and I appreciate it, but I almost wish I could hire someone else so James and I could just hang out instead.

  I have this desire to do things with him, not with him watching me do them.

  I take the plates and silverware away and prepare them for the dishwasher.

  “So how do you feel?” he says, making me freeze. “Have you changed your mind about extended protection? I’m happy to stay over and sleep on the couch if it’ll make you feel better.”

  I kind of forgot about the potential danger at lunch; his presence worked wonders.

  I was able to relax and have fun with Kiara, monitoring myself only for the content of our conversation but not thinking about someone lurking somewhere with binoculars watching us.

  And the whole time James has been here this evening, I haven’t thought about the creepy messages once.

  His presence has been a tremendous relief; I feel incredibly safe when he’s near.

  But there’s a different danger when it comes to him.

  The thought of him in my space during the night freaks me out—way more than some internet message. I’m not sure I’d sleep like a baby.

  “I should be fine with the locks, right? Someone would have to get a ladder to come through the windows…”

  “Which wouldn’t be hard to do.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I insist. “I was thinking about it, and J was probably bluffing. My favorite color is blue and I’ve put that out there, so it was probably just a good guess. I might’ve even mentioned something about going shopping somewhere…”

  I’m pretty sure I didn’t, but part of me is panicking at the thought of James staying here overnight.

  “I’ll lock up properly after you; I doubt someone plans to crash through my door in the dead of night. I honestly think this is a mental game; someone’s enjoying messing with me. And if they were watching today, no dou
bt they noticed you, so they probably got scared off a bit.”

  “So you’re saying my job here is done?”

  “For now. But see you for lunch tomorrow?”

  “Keep your phone near you at all times. Call me the minute you feel scared or threatened; I’ll be here in no time.”

  “K,” I say, giving him a bright smile as I move to walk him to the door.

  He takes the cue, and as I unlock the locks, I say, “ I really enjoyed hanging out with you today. Didn’t realize how much I’d missed it.”

  “Me too,” he replies, his eyes now particularly intense.

  Normally, it’s as if he doesn’t blink—his eyes can look pretty cold and detached, making him look like a psycho. But right now, they’re unblinking but alive in a way I can’t put my finger on. Definitely not cold; in fact, quite the opposite.

  I feel compelled to throw my arms around him and hug him, quietly mumbling a “Thanks” as gratefulness fills me.

  It takes a moment, but his muscular arms close around me and we lock in the embrace for a second longer than we should, so I move to pull away.

  His arms don’t budge, however, and I’m trapped against him for a few seconds more while his cock grows against me.

  I’m starting to panic a bit—once more, my body is responding in a way it shouldn’t, my core getting slick, my heart pounding my chest.

  He grips me tighter, his erection undeniable.

  My flight or flight instinct kicks in and I struggle a bit, but I’m locked tight against his muscles.

  Suddenly, his lips touch my forehead, then he finally pulls away, his expression even more alarming.

  I take a step back, and it seems to work to halt whatever was starting to build dangerously.

  “Good night, Angel,” James says, his voice deep and husky, thick with warning and promise.

  I swallow before managing a “Good night” in return, starkly reminded what a dangerous line I’m walking.

  This isn’t just any man—it’s a man who might have feelings for me. A man who has the capability of seducing me past all my logical protests since I might have feelings for him.

  A man more dangerous to me right now than anything else I’ve encountered lately.

  Your new headscarf is cute. Especially when you sleep in it.

  I stare at the message, my heart beating too fast, my body suddenly feeling too heavy for me to move.

  When I finally manage to, I dial James immediately and let him know.

  “That’s it,” he says, “either I’m moving in there or you move in here. Latter preferred. Either way, I’m not leaving your side.”

  7

  James

  I could tell Angel didn’t want things to come to this, and I don’t blame her, but what choice do we have?

  Either he was in my place, or peeking through a window…

  I feel myself getting enraged at her panicked words again.

  If the creep’s got eyes on her overnight, there’s no way I’m letting her out of my sight, no way she’s spending another night alone until we figure things out.

  I’ll have to sort out another pair of watchful eyes for us since I can’t exactly stay alert twenty-four seven, but for now, I’m not leaving her to freak out alone in her apartment—she’s got work to do and so do I.

  I pack a handy bag and head over.

  Angel greets me with a frightened face and a desperate hug, and her fear makes me even angrier at the person behind it.

  I’ve never seen her look scared, and I don’t like it one bit.

  “Thanks for coming,” she says.

  “Of course,” I say, releasing her from the embrace. “Show me.”

  She takes me to her computer and brings up the message, and reading the words are somehow worse than hearing her repeat them to me.

  Rage boils in my chest.

  I can’t wait to get my hands on this SOB.

  I whip out my phone, glad I’d already gotten the contact info for Derek’s tech-savvy brother-in-law.

  “Aaron, I really need you asap. I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “Sure thing, what’s the deal?”

  I fill him in and he promises to get right back to me.

  He mentions a few possibilities for sniffing out the perpetrator, but my eyes glaze over as my brain fails to process whatever the fuck he’s spouting.

  Damn it, there’s a reason I’m having someone else do this—I need a higher level of electronic understanding here, a level beyond mine.

  “Who was that?” Angel asks once we disconnect.

  “A hacker extraordinaire. He might be able to figure out who’s behind this whole thing sooner than later, so we should finally be able to do something.”

  “Is he in the military too?”

  “Not really. He apparently enlisted but dropped out. Now, he’s an internet security expert—got into the field after losing a leg in a motorcycle accident. Companies hire him to test their security and he works with P.I’s. A buddy of mine married his sister, and said if I ever needed someone with those sort of skills, that’s the guy to call, so that’s that. Any errands today?”

  “Yeah, but just for a few groceries. I thought about something I wanted to make you for dinner tonight and I’m out of a few essentials.”

  My chest warms at the thought of her changing whatever plans she might have had to try to please me with another meal.

  “Is it that soufflé by any chance? With the ham? I was drooling by the end of that one.”

  She pauses and puts one hand akimbo, staring at me.

  “Okay, how many of my videos have you watched?” she says.

  No use hiding the truth. “All of them.”

  Her eyes widen.

  This expression hasn’t made it onto her many videos, I suddenly realize.

  Her image is controlled, and it pleases me that I have insight into parts of her that her audience might never get.

  They don’t even know her real name.

  They know that she’s beautiful, that she cooks, and they’re familiar with her smile, but they don’t get to be this close to her palpable warmth.

  They don’t get to hold her in their arms...

  “I’ve got to say, I did not figure a guy like you to be a part of my potential audience.”

  “Well, I missed you,” I say before I can stop it, so I just decide to go with it. “Your channel was a way to see you again, to hear you. It was nice seeing you live your dream too—I remember you talking about wanting to work on your own terms, figuring out a way to use your Communication degree without going any of the usual routes. And you did it!”

  “Yeah, Leonard kept trying to give me a reality check and convince me it was best to get a real job like everyone else.”

  “Leonard rarely knows what he’s talking about or what the hell he’s doing.”

  She looks startled by my declaration.

  Guess I did sound a bit harsh.

  “I mean, I’ve known the guy since junior high, and we were pretty close once. Who better than me to see his idiocy over the years. For god’s sake, he let you go!”

  She seems surprised again, her eyes widening even more. It even feels like she has retreated emotionally a bit.

  Fuck, I’ve gone too far again.

  I realize I need to have a better handle on this situation—me being emotional and making declarations is not going to help me keep her safe.

  I need to calm the fuck down.

  “Anyway, I already showered so we can head right out to the grocery store,” she says casually, getting us back on track.

  She’s good; it’s as if I hadn’t just pretty much told her how I feel about her.

  Her face is back to normal but I can feel the turmoil underneath her calm composure.

  I pull myself together, reluctantly withdrawing from indulging in her company and we prepare to head out.

  Once we arrive at the store, it seems she has recovered from my emotional outbursts earlier.


  She keeps trying to engage me in conversation, but I remain silent and aloof on the outside, reminding her I’m not there to be her ‘buddy-guard.’

  She seems to accept the cold professionalism for a moment, but not long after, she tries to engage me again.

  I give her a look to zip it.

  When we return to her apartment, I clear the unit before letting her go in, then she goes straight to her computer.

  “Do you check them all every day?” I ask when I see open up tabs for Facebook and Instagram.

  “Oh, you’re talking to me now?” she says.

  “You know I have to…”

  “Yeah, yeah. And yes—I flip through each day. It’s part of my job.”

  “But what’s so urgent? Why not every two days or every Tuesday and Thursday?”

  “Fans like to be engaged, and sometimes, companies offer me products or other opportunities. Can’t sleep on anything—in the time it takes to ignore a legit offer, someone else could have said yes, and I don’t want to miss an opportunity. And I actually do like interacting with most people.”

  “And no doubt, some of them end up feeling like they know you, like you’re friends. The lines get blurred and suddenly they’re confusing surface interactions for deeper relationships.”

  “Like you?”

  Ouch.

  “Shit, I’m sorry, James. I didn’t actually mean that.”

  “What did you mean then?”

  “I’m just...this whole thing is confusing, that’s all.”

  I silently nudge her to clarify, pinning her with my stare.

  “Like…well, do you remember that wedding? About a year ago? Some high school friend of yours and Leonard’s?”

  I nod curtly. How the hell could I forget?

  “Well, when you and I danced, for a moment, it felt like… like we were...” She shakes her head, looking frustrated. “Never mind.”

  I step closer to her. “Like we were what?”

  Her mouth moves, like a fish out of water and then she shakes her head again. “Like we were a couple then. It felt... This is stupid. And dangerous. We can’t talk about things like that—we’re friends. Or chummy acquaintances. And now you’re sort of working for me. Plus, you’re my ex’s friend! We can’t go there.”