by Andrea Joan
“I have a job offer for you.”
Well, shit. Something tells me this job does not include her pussy and my dick having daily in-depth meetings.
“Say that again?”
“See, told ya. Crazy. It’s just that I recently had to fire my last bodyguard and unfortunately that’s not a position I can leave vacant for very long. Normally I don’t handle the hiring of my bodyguards, my manager does, but he hired the last three and…none of them worked out. Do you know what the definition of insanity is, Liam?”
I shake my head as she enthusiastically continues, knowing she won’t stop long enough for me to answer anyway.
“It’s when you do the same thing over and over again expecting different results. I want to change the results, so I thought maybe if I did the hiring, hire you, I mean, then I could change them.”
Bodyguard? What in the ever-loving fuck?
“Look, I’m flattered really, but I don’t know a fucking thing about being a bodyguard. I’m not even trained for that kind of job.”
“You’re just as trained as anyone else I would hire for the position.” For a fraction of a second, a pleading look passes over her face as if begging me to say yes, or maybe fearful I would say no, and fuck if that doesn’t make my chest ache.
“Most bodyguards hired from private companies are retired cops or ex-military, or former fighters just like you. The way you handled yourself last night was impressive, and to be honest, that might be the most action you see if you work for me. It would be mostly helping me get past hostile paparazzi or fans that get a little too close for comfort. The hardest part is keeping your cool, especially with the paparazzi. Some of them enjoy pushing until you are forced to push back. Then when you do, they sue, looking for some kind of payday. Damn parasites, most of them.”
She’s batshit crazy. How could she think the way I handled myself was impressive? I lost control and she ended up hurt. “Listen, Skylar—”
“Wait. Just…wait before you say anything. Let me tell you my offer. I’ve a three month break before I start filming my next movie. You could just try it out. See if it’s a good fit. I have a guesthouse at my home in the Hollywood Hills. You could stay there. If you decide you want to take the job permanently, then I can help you find a place. And the pay is good, I mean, really, really good. You would probably make more in three months working for me than you would three years working at a place like this.” A look of shame and a slight blush comes over her as Sky’s hands move quickly to cover her face out of embarrassment. “Shit, I didn’t mean for that to sound insulting. Sometimes I forget how to behave like a human being. I’m so stupid.”
Despite the muffled sound of her voice, I hear every word said and it pisses me right off. I reach over and pull her hands away, holding them in my own on top of the table. Those blue eyes lock on to mine and a gasp escapes from her mouth.
“Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t insulted. But Sky, never hide your face from me and don’t ever call yourself stupid. You got me.”
“I…yeah. Sorry,” she says, sliding back slightly in the booth. Realizing I’m still touching her, I jerk my hands away and put them under the table.
“Honestly, Liam, I’m going with my gut on this. I’ve had some bad experiences with previous bodyguards, ones I knew very little about other than my instincts told me I couldn’t trust them. And it turns out I really should have listened because they caused me some serious damage. My instincts, my gut, are telling me I can trust you and this time I plan on listening.”
Scrubbing my hand down my face I try and think of the best way to handle this situation. A way to let her down that won’t put that sad fucking look back on her face that makes me feel like I just kicked her puppy. “It’s not about the money, or a fucking place to stay. You don’t know me to trust me with a task this…important.”
Looking unfazed, Skylar raises an eyebrow as if preparing to put me in my place. I don’t like how she seems ready to top me right now. It makes me fucking uncomfortable.
“You’re right Liam, I don’t know you. But trust isn’t necessarily based on knowledge, Liam.”
“Then what the hell is it based on?”
“Philosophically, some would say hope. Hope given to someone believed to be trustworthy.”
Skylar glances at the ceiling for a brief second, taking a contemplative breath in what I hope is an attempt to think of a way to better explain herself because I have no fucking clue what she means. Then she looks right fucking at me.
“Last night, when we were together, I observed a few things about you. For example, most people would have taken advantage of your situation. Try to cleverly get information out of me so they could sell it to the media. Maybe even come on to me assuming I’m easy because of some tabloid bullshit they’ve read and they can’t wait to brag about the time they banged a movie star.” Her sudden rigid posture coupled with her clipped tone leads me to believe she has dealt with these situations often before.
“But not you. You were cautious around me, careful not to touch me. And you never pushed or prodded to get any salacious details about my life. In fact, it seemed like you couldn’t have cared less about who I was. On top of that, you can clearly hold your own in a fight. The fact that you didn’t initiate it, held out until it became necessary to fight back also speaks to your character. I can’t have a bodyguard that throws the first punch. It’ll cause me a lot of legal problems. The way you handled the whole situation gave me hope and that hope leads me to believe I can put my trust in you.”
I can’t fucking hear this shit anymore. Her turning me into some hero, looking at me like I’m capable of protecting her, like I can keep her safe. What a fucking joke. Three people I loved were brutally murdered while I watched. I did nothing to save them. I was weak then. I swore to never be weak again. Skylar is starting to make me weak, and this bullshit needs to end now. I need her to fucking leave.
“Well, honey, let me tell you something. You may be observant but you are severely lacking in the common-sense department, and I’m not sure that is something I can handle.”
“Excuse me?”
“You need me to spell it out for you?”
“Please,” she says, folding her arms in front of her chest and sitting up straight as if that would shield her from my onslaught. All it does is cause me to lean predatorily over the table so she pays attention to every damn word I have to say.
“One, you went into an alley behind a bar in the middle of the night. Alone. Which is about as reckless as you can get. What if I hadn’t been out there and Mason and his asshole friends found you by yourself? What do you think they would’ve done to you? Two, you decided to haul that cute little ass of yours down to the hospital and confront the assholes that attacked you all by yourself in an attempt to clean up my fucking mess. And last but not least, you are too trusting. You think I was being cautious and careful around you?” I roll my eyes and laugh before delivering the final blow. “How do you know that I wasn’t just trying to seduce you? To weaken your defenses to get you under me, to get you in my bed so I could scream to anyone that would listen that I fucked the Skylar Barrett.”
Her eyes grow wide with shock and I relax knowing I’ve hit my mark. I showed her the true asshole that I am. But then, within seconds, her lips turn up into a smile, and she fucking laughs at me.
How is it that moments ago I was a predator, and now I feel as if I’ve become the prey?
“You are something else, slugger.” Skylar continues to laugh, shaking her head.
“Excuse me?” I say.
“Would you like me to spell it out for you?” She doesn’t wait for my response. Thank fuck because I haven’t the first clue how to respond. “One”—she lifts her index finger up as if I don’t understand the meaning of the number without the visual—“I will give you the lonely girl in the alley thing. That was stupid and I wasn’t thinking clearly. Sometimes I forget I’m not untouchable. Two”—and here comes the middle
finger. Cute. “Don’t assume my trip to the hospital had anything to do with you. I went down there to pay those douchebags off so that they wouldn’t run to TMZ or Perez with this story, because next thing I know I’m screwing three guys in an alley or I’m involved in a drug deal gone wrong. Yes, I convinced them to not press charges, but that was because I felt guilty. You wouldn’t have been in that situation if it wasn’t for me, so I wanted to make sure you were off the hook. But the thing that has me laughing, has me a bit confused, is your last statement.”
“And why is that?”
“We both know you are not a man that has either the patience or the need to seduce a woman into bed. A flash of that wicked grin, a wink, and a snap of your fingers will probably have most women on their backs, legs spread and ready. So now I’m wondering, who you are trying to protect with that lie—me or yourself?”
Well, fuck me standing. Where the hell did the flustered, charming girl from two fucking minutes ago, go? Skylar should be running, or at least looking at me like the disrespectful piece of shit that I am. Instead, she’s sitting here looking at me satisfied, like she just delivered a successful counterpunch without even blinking. Damn, I knew I liked this girl.
I hear a girly little snicker I recognize all too well and turn my gaze just in time to see Shay’s smile disappear and her eyes go wide when she realizes I’ve caught her eavesdropping from behind the bar. She quickly ducks behind the counter and I watch as the door to the kitchen swings open and closed. Sneaky little brat.
“Look, you don’t have to answer me now. I was supposed to leave today and head back to Los Angeles, but I delayed it until tomorrow. Do you know where Orcas Island airport is?” Skylar asks casually, as if she didn’t just hand me my fucking ass.
“Yeah—yes, I’m aware of it.”
“Wow…of course you are. Duh, Skylar. It’s a small island,” she says, smacking her hand to her forehead.
“It’s okay.” I can’t help but smile, shattering my scowl into pieces. There’s the Skylar that first walked in here.
“Well, I have a private plane that’s going to take me home tomorrow. It leaves at six in the morning. If you want the job, just meet me at the Orcas Island airport before the plane takes off. Here, I have something for you.”
Skylar takes a white envelope out of her purse, a purse that probably costs more than my Harley, then pulls my hand from across the table so she can place the envelope in it.
“The salary details are in there as well as a brief description of the job. My attorney will want you to sign a NDA if you decide to take the job, but I’m not that worried about it this second.”
“A NDA?”
“A non-disclosure agreement. It basically means you can’t discuss anything that goes on in my life, or anything you witness with anybody. To tabloids, reporters, friends, stuff like that.”
“Okay.” Makes no difference to me, I wouldn’t run my mouth off about her anyway; it’s no one’s fucking business.
“I know this is last minute, and I’m not giving you much time to think about it, but I know if I go back to Los Angeles without you, my manager will have found me someone else, and I’ll be stuck with another asshole bodyguard and I won’t have the nerve to ask you again.” Skylar lets out a sigh as if she just ran out of words.
She’s endearing when she’s flustered, but there’s something about the way she rambles on nervously but then flips the script so easily that concerns me. I just can’t put my finger on it, but it intrigues me because it feels dangerous. She feels dangerous.
When my dad was a boxer he went by the name Sean the Swan O’Connor. A lot of fighters would mock the name, laugh at it because they saw it as a pussy name for a boxer. That laughter stopped the minute he pummeled them into the ground within the first few rounds. The thing about swans is while they are beautiful and graceful creatures, they can be mean mother fuckers. Aggressive, territorial, and plain fucking nasty. Swans can tear skin from a body with their beaks, even break a human arm using only their wings. Hidden behind all that elegance lies a crafty animal ready to snap into attack mode at all times.
Skylar is a swan, and damn if she is not tempting me with her perilous splendor. She provides me that risk and adrenaline I’m addicted to. The one boxing once provided, and after that ended, the drugs, the booze, the women, and the rage.
I would be lying to myself if I said I didn’t want to take this offer, and not for the fucking money but to be near Skylar, to watch over her, to protect her. The thought of her going back to L.A. and hiring some other dick that could potentially fuck her over has me pissed off. I don’t know how her previous ones fucked her over, but given her reaction I can tell it wasn’t good, and it has me wanting to shove my fist through someone’s face. Which is where my problem lies. I can’t control myself when I feel threatened, or when someone I care about is threatened. Rage has now become my closest friend, and it will engulf me, ravage me, and I will lose control.
Mason is lucky he isn’t breathing through a tube right now after touching my sister and hurting Skylar. My dad saved his life. If I go with Skylar, he won’t be there to pull me back from the darkness. I could ruin her reputation just as I have ruined mine. Or worse, destroy her life altogether.
I can’t have a bodyguard that throws the first punch. It will cause me a lot of legal problems.
“I’m sure I’ve monopolized enough of your time, and I want to give you a chance to think about this without me breathing down your neck, because I know if I stay here much longer you might just take the job to shut me up and then I’ll feel bad.” I can’t help but laugh because that fake little pout she just gave me, and those puppy dog eyes, lead me to think she really wouldn’t feel bad at all.
“Nah, I like listening to you talk. The speed with which you do it sometimes is very impressive. I promise I’ll think about your offer.” I place my hand on top of hers because this may be it for us, and I want to make sure I touch her one last time.
Skylar slides out of the booth, grabbing her purse off the table as I sit here like an idiot too scared that if I get up I will follow her all the way to Los Angeles, and I need to make the right decision for her, not me.
“You know, it would be quite fitting if you decided to take the job, don’t ya think?” Skylar flashes me a coy grin.
“How’s that?”
“Your name.”
“What about it?”
“In Irish, one of the meanings of the name Liam is ‘determined protector.’”
Well, I’ll be damned. She has rendered me speechless. How does she know that and I don’t?
“Come on, Liam, don’t tell me I just out-Irished you in your own Irish bar. Tsk, tsk. Look alive, slugger.” She gives me a sassy wink, covers those seductive eyes with sunglasses, then walks that sexy ass right out O’Connor’s.
I am so fucked.
HOLY HELL, HE’S HERE. He is actually here. Wait…why is he here? Liam should be tucked safely in his bed naked or lifting weights shirtless, or whatever it is he does at this ungodly hour, because there’s no way he can think I’m sane after our talk yesterday. What person in their right mind offers a complete stranger a job as their personal bodyguard and then invites said stranger to stay in their guesthouse? This is not the behavior of a rational person. Liam was right; I’m severely lacking in common sense.
The truth is, I haven’t been able to get Liam out of my head since I met him. When Noah brought me back to my hotel room and helped patch up my hand, I was wishing it was Liam instead. Then, when I was finally able to fall asleep, I didn’t have the same abusive nightmares about my mother or father or Jeff Roberts, my previous creepy bodyguard. I didn’t wake up gasping for air or screaming for help, sweating and crying until I was able to breathe again. I dreamed of Liam. It was as if my unconscious mind knew to conjure up a vision of him to protect me from my nightmares. He somehow slipped his way into my subconscious thoughts, consuming them in the loveliest and most possessive way possible,
and when I woke up I knew I needed him with me. And though it was not rational or logical, I had an overwhelming sense that he needed me too.
And maybe he really does because here he is casually leaning up against the brick wall of the small airport building looking like dirty sex incarnate in a pair of navy pants that hang off his hips and a worn black t-shirt stretched across his chest. His hands are shoved into his pockets, causing the veins in his cut forearms to pop out slightly, and now all I can think of is Liam O’Connor picking me up with those arms, slamming me against that wall and screwing my—
“Ms. Barrett, would you like to get out here?”
Right. I’m still in the cab, and I’m sure the driver has better things to do than sit on the tarmac while I silently lust.
“Here is great. Thank you,” I say, handing the driver a fifty. Probably more than the actual fare, but the quicker I get out of this cab, the faster I can get to Liam.
As I move to get out of the car, I glance up to see if I can spot him, but the glare from the early morning sun on the windshield blinds me from seeing anything in front of me. The side door opens and my heart picks up for a split second thinking it’s him, but when I see a plump hand grab for my suitcase I know those are not the hands I was hoping for. Sliding out of the backseat, ignoring the hand of the cab driver trying to help me out, I grab the suitcase from him.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome Ms. Barrett. It was a pleasure driving you. I’ve seen all your movies. You’re great.”
“Oh, wow. Thanks.” Don’t ask. Please don’t ask. It’s way too early.
“Do you think I could get a picture and an autograph? I got a little girl who loves watching reruns of your show. I would be her hero,” the driver all but begs, his hand grasping my wrist lightly to stop me from walking away, and I flinch immediately, pulling it from his grip. He backs off a little which puts me at ease and at the mention of his daughter I cave to his request.
“Uh…yeah, sure. A picture works. You have a camera on your phone?” I am such a sucker when it comes to kids.
