Necessary Risk (Bodyguard)

by Tara Wyatt

  Well, aside from what was likely to be a whopper of a bill from Virtus. She’d done a little Googling, and figured her weekly tab would be somewhere around ten thousand dollars.

  So far it had been worth every penny.

  “Why do fine when you can do great? Take a look at this,” Linda said, sliding the script across the table to Sierra. “This is right up your alley.”

  Before she could reach for the stack of pages, the waiter approached to take their orders. Linda ordered the “farm lettuce special,” which was basically a head of lettuce with salad dressing. Salad dressing on the side, of course.

  “And for you?” The waiter turned to Sierra, pen poised over his notepad.

  “I will have the portobello mushroom chicken, and a glass of sparkling water. Thanks.” She snapped her menu shut and eyed the script in front of her warily.

  “It’s not going to bite you. Just look at it.”

  She hesitated, running her thumb over the chunky edge of the script, flipping the corners up with a soft burr of sound. “Linda, I appreciate this, but I’m not really acting much right now.”

  Linda sighed heavily and reached across the table, opening the script and tapping a manicured finger over a name on the front page. Elle Breccan. Sierra frowned slightly. That name was familiar. Why? She racked her brain, trying to pull the information free.

  “The film’s called Bodies,” said Linda, continuing to leaf through the pages like a saleswoman presenting a brochure. “It’s based on a true story. Remember that human trafficking ring that was discovered in Atlanta a couple of years ago? The film focuses on Elle Breccan, the lawyer responsible for both discovering it and saving all those girls.” Linda looked up, sending Sierra a meaningful look. “Even though she got shot and almost died in the process.”

  “Wait, you think I could play Elle Breccan?” She remembered the story now. Breccan had discovered an underground ring of over two hundred massage parlors that served as a front for sex trafficking. Girls as young as eleven—many of them immigrants, both documented and undocumented—had been abducted from their families and forced into the trade, often being sold to the highest bidder. Breccan, the assistant US attorney for the area, had done everything in her power to stop it.

  “Absolutely. You’re in your thirties now, so you could play someone up to forty.”

  Sierra rolled her eyes, knowing there was little she could do about the pervasive ageist sexism in Hollywood. She pulled the script toward her and began flipping through the pages, a tiny spark of excitement flaring up inside her as she read.

  “Are you interested?” asked Linda after a few minutes. The waiter returned with their food, and Sierra moved the script to the side. She cut a piece of her chicken and chewed thoughtfully.

  “Intrigued,” she answered finally, flipping through a few more pages. It had been years since she’d acted, but this story…it was incredible. Not only was Elle Breccan a compelling character, but the story was one that needed to be told. At first glance the script looked solid. Well written and dramatic without being preachy.

  “Just promise me you’ll think about it. I can get you on the list to audition, but I need to know soon.”

  Sierra felt herself giving in, her interest in the project winning out. “I promise I’ll consider it.” Linda’s face lit up in triumph, and Sierra felt compelled to add, “I’m not saying yes or no, just that I’ll think about it.”

  Linda speared a chunk of lettuce and pointed her fork at Sierra, smiling confidently and looking completely pleased with herself. “I told you it wasn’t a rom-com.”

  * * *

  Sean’s gaze roamed over the restaurant, returning every thirty seconds or so to Sierra, who was deep in conversation with her agent, a script open on the table between them, their plates now empty. He made eye contact with Jamie, who was stationed at another table by the door, and he nodded. The restaurant was busy, but there were no threats. Maybe he’d overreacted, telling her she couldn’t go to the Chateau Marmont with her friends. She’d been so disappointed. He glanced at her table again, and her eyes met his for a second before she returned her attention to the script. Something hot and possessive seared through him, and he knew he’d made the right call.

  Keeping her safe was everything. It was the only thing.

  His phone buzzed from inside his suit jacket pocket, and he pulled it out, his eyes still scanning the restaurant as he answered.

  “How’re things going with the Blake job? I noticed you pulled a lot of resources in for this,” said Patrick by way of greeting. The man was physically incapable of saying hello.

  “Everything’s fine so far. Equipment’s all installed, and we’ve got the rotation going, so between the guards and the surveillance, I feel we’ve got a good handle on the situation.”

  “No further signs of the bastards, huh?”

  “Not so far. I talked to Antonio, and they’re still investigating. The cops have been looking into Sacrosanct for a while, but they don’t have enough evidence to move on them.”

  “Are we sure it’s Sacrosanct? Could it be anyone else? She got other enemies?”

  “Sacrosanct makes the most sense, but it’s possible the harassment could be coming from somewhere else. Antonio’s looking into it, and I’ve also got Clay checking on a few people.”

  “People like state senators?” Patrick’s voice was crisp and sharp.

  Sean grimaced. “Just covering all the bases.”

  “If Jack Nikolaidis finds out you’re having him investigated, shit’s gonna hit the fan and splatter all over you.”

  “Clay’s good, Dad. Discreet and smart. Nikolaidis will never know.”

  “But you think he’s involved?”

  Sean rubbed a hand over his mouth, the back of his neck prickling. “I don’t know. He and Sierra dated, and it ended badly.”

  There was a moment of silence before Patrick spoke again. “Yeah, OK. That’s worth looking into. You just pray he doesn’t find out.”

  “He won’t. I trust Clay.”

  Patrick grunted before changing the topic. “Priestley was in this morning, looking for you.”

  Sean glanced at the ceiling and shoved a hand through his hair. “Why?”

  “Probably because he wants his job back.”

  Sean laughed, one short, bitter burst. “He burned that bridge. Hell, he didn’t just burn it, he blew it the fuck up. No way is he coming back.”

  “We should give him another chance. With his military experience, he was a damn good bodyguard. Smart. Brave. Tough.”

  The ease with which his father complimented someone else ate at Sean, but he shoved it down, ignoring the acidic churning in his stomach. “He was also reckless, with a temper. I almost lost an eye because of him.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “But I didn’t? That’s your defense? Jesus.” Sean forced himself to take a breath, not wanting to get drawn into the usual argument right here and now. “The answer’s no. Colt Priestley is never coming back to Virtus. He’s too much of a liability.”

  “Fine. But I like him.”

  Of course he did. A muscle in Sean’s jaw ticced. “Great. Go have a beer with him then, but he can’t have his job back.”

  “Keep me updated on the Blake job.” And with that his father hung up. Apparently he was just as allergic to good-bye as he was to hello. Not to mention the myriad other things he never said.

  Sierra caught his eye and tipped her head toward the door, indicating she was ready to leave. After dropping a five on the table to cover his coffee, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and met her at her table. Her agent had already left, and with a script tucked under her arm, Sierra headed for the door, an unreadable expression on her pretty face. The tug in his chest was back as he watched her walk toward the SUV. There was something in the closed-off expression of her face, the tight line of her shoulders, that made him want to reach for her.

  Goddammit. His need to protect her was tangling up
with his attraction to her into a knotted snarl he didn’t know how to unravel.

  He held the rear passenger door of his SUV open for her, and she slipped in without a word. He paused as Jamie dropped into the front passenger seat, pulling the door closed behind him.

  “You OK?” Sean asked, bracing his hands on the open doorframe, not for balance but so he wouldn’t reach out and touch her. He couldn’t seem to help himself anytime he was close to her.

  She chewed her lip and ran a finger over the script in her lap. “I might have an audition.”

  His eyebrows rose. “And that’s not a good thing?”

  “No, it is…I just…” She shrugged. “I don’t act much anymore, and this is potentially a really good opportunity for me. Especially given how everything’s going with Choices right now.” She frowned, twisting her fingers together.

  “You’re having doubts.”

  She looked up and met his eyes. “Maybe. Everything’s upside down right now. I walked away from acting years ago, and now I’ve got this audition. Working for Choices means a lot to me, but maybe I’m crazy for putting myself at risk for them. My mom wants me to quit. Linda wants me to quit. Maybe they’re right.” She bent forward, dropping her head into her hands. “God, I feel horrible for even saying that out loud.”

  “Hey.” Almost of its own volition, one of his hands slipped free from its grip on the vehicle and he slipped it under her chin, tilting her face up. “Do you want to quit?”

  Determination shone in her eyes, and she didn’t hesitate. “No.”

  “For what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is brave. Not everyone would stand by a cause they believe in after what you’ve been through. The fact that you are…” He took his hand back and slipped it into his pocket. “It says a lot about the kind of woman you are.”

  “What kind of woman is that?” she asked softly, her eyes skimming down over his body before returning to his face.

  “A smart and strong one, who refuses to be bullied. Someone who stands up for others, and who does the right thing, even when the right thing is hard. Someone who has strong values and ideals, and who sticks to them, even when things get tough.” At some point during his little speech, his hand had come out of his pocket, because it now rested on her knee, his thumb tracing small circles on her soft skin just below the hem of her skirt. “I think you’re incredible.”

  She laid her hand over his and squeezed, warmth flooding through him at the contact.

  “Thank you,” she said, her eyes bright, her words quiet. She squeezed again.

  Holy hell, did he want to kiss her. Kiss her until she wasn’t scared anymore, until neither of them could breathe, until he heard his name dropping from her swollen lips.

  But that simply couldn’t happen. So with a small smile, he pulled his hand away and dropped into the driver’s seat of the SUV, hoping his heart would eventually slow the hell down and some of his blood would start flowing back toward his brain and away from his swollen cock.

  Jesus. He’d be lucky if he didn’t have permanent zipper-teeth marks indented into his dick. And all she’d done was touch his hand.

  Somehow he managed to wrench his attention away from the situation in his pants and the woman who’d inspired it and eased the SUV into traffic without killing them.

  Chapter 8

  Thanks for changing your plans, Chloe. I really appreciate it,” said Sierra as she pulled her friend in for a hug. After her lunch meeting with Linda, she’d called Chloe and explained the situation, asking her if she wouldn’t mind celebrating her birthday at Sierra’s instead of the Chateau Marmont. Chloe, sympathetic and sweet as always, had agreed instantly. Sierra had spent the afternoon arranging to have cupcakes and other treats delivered, even sending Jamie on a decoration run because Sean wanted her safe and sound at home as much as possible.

  The sound of raucous laughter erupted from the living room, and Chloe smiled.

  “I see Taylor’s already here,” she said dryly.

  “You’re actually the last one to arrive for your own party.” Sierra took the bottle of wine Chloe held in her hands and led her into the living room. “You know, you didn’t have to bring wine, seeing as I’m the one who insisted you come over.”

  Chloe shrugged and tucked a strand of her gorgeous cinnamon-colored hair behind her ear. “With everything going on, I figured you could use it. You’re OK?” she asked, concern filling her wide hazel eyes.

  Sierra nodded and patted her arm reassuringly. “I’ve got top-notch security, and the cops are looking into the attacks. I’m OK.” She glanced around, taking in the newly installed security cameras, the slightest twinge of claustrophobia stealing her breath for a second. Zack approached with a rueful smile.

  “He’s got to check you and your purse. I’m really sorry,” said Sierra, heat prickling her neck.

  “No problem.” Chloe gamely held her purse out to Zack. Once he was finished, she stepped into the living room with Sierra, Zack’s gaze following her. With her golden-brown skin dotted with freckles and her startling hazel eyes, she was stunning, but didn’t seem to realize the effect she had on men. She and Sierra had been friends for over twenty years, having grown up together. Chloe’s father, Julius Carmichael, had been one of the executive producers on Family Tree, and while Chloe didn’t act, she’d been around the set quite a bit. She was only a year younger than Sierra, and they’d both been grateful for another kid to play with during the downtime on set. They’d bonded over Barbies, Polly Pockets, Disney movies, and trying to play jokes on the older kids. Even as Sierra had drifted away from Hollywood, going to college instead of pursing an adult acting career, she and Chloe had remained close. Chloe’s father was still one of the most powerful television producers in Hollywood, and she was following in his footsteps, writing scripts and working with him on different projects.

  Chloe was greeted with a rousing chorus of her name, and she moved deeper into the living room to accept hugs and birthday wishes from Taylor, Rory, and Alexa Fairfax. Sierra ducked into the kitchen to pop Chloe’s bottle of pinot grigio into the fridge, needing a second to catch her breath. The anxiety she’d been fighting back all day had resurfaced, making her stomach churn and her chest tighten. She felt trapped in her own home, hiding and forcing her friends to accommodate her. She wrenched open the fridge and shoved the bottle of wine inside, slamming it shut with satisfying force.

  “Whoa. Should I start hiding the steak knives?” Sean’s voice came from behind her, and she spun to see him leaning against the island. Something funny tightened in her stomach when she laid eyes on him, a sensation in direct opposition to the anxiety she’d felt a moment ago. He wore a black T-shirt that hugged all those muscles in all the right places and a pair of worn jeans, and despite her frustration, she felt herself smiling. Curiosity and humor danced across his face, his eyes crinkling slightly as he watched her.

  “No, I’m good. Just feeling a little…” She gestured around her. “Cooped up, I guess.” She grabbed a cupcake from a nearby tray and peeled the wrapper off, taking a healthy bite. The cream cheese frosting was slightly tart and perfectly sweet, melting on her tongue with the red velvet cake.

  Sugar always made everything better. Temporarily at least.

  “But you get that this is what we need to do right now, right? It’s for your own protection.”

  “Of course.” Her eyes met his. “I trust your judgment, Sean.”

  “Good.”

  “Doesn’t mean I like any of this, though.”

  “Maybe you should take the wine out of the fridge, then. If the door still works,” he said, his tone light. She tried to stifle it, but she laughed, a brightness filtering over her at his gentle teasing.

  Sean’s phone buzzed, and he yanked it out of his back pocket. As he studied the screen, he ran a hand through his hair. In the bright lights of the kitchen, she noticed a few sparse strands of gray threading through at his temples. Her fingertips tingled with the urge to touch his
hair, to sink her fingers into it.

  “Sorry,” he said, looking up from his phone and shooting her that lopsided smile that sent heat flushing through her.

  She waved away his apology. “So I thought you would’ve retreated to the guesthouse.” Zack was on duty tonight, and just as he’d done with Chloe, he’d briefly checked each guest as they’d come in, which had been beyond embarrassing, but each of her friends had tolerated it with good humor. Except Taylor, who’d immediately turned it flirty and dirty, inviting Zack to frisk her, among other things. By far the cockiest of Sean’s team, he’d flirted right back.

  God, she loved her friends. Not everyone was lucky enough to have such a supportive, fun, tight-knit group. She was beyond grateful to have them in her life. A little bit more of her anxiety slipped loose, and her shoulders felt lighter.

  Sean shrugged, the black cotton of his T-shirt pulling tight across his strong, wide shoulders. “I thought I’d stick around, keep an eye on things for a bit.”

  She tipped her head to the fridge, which was well stocked with appetizers, a fruit tray, drinks, and various other goodies. “Help yourself to anything you want.”

  He smiled. “Thanks. But I just had dinner, so I’m good.”

  “Not even a cupcake?” She picked one up from the tray on the counter and walked over to him, holding it out. It was as though her skin were sensitized to him, and the closer she got, the more her nerve endings came to life, stoking the heat curling slowly through her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d wanted a man the way she wanted Sean. He was gorgeous, and kind, and strong, and her body craved him with an intensity that was both thrilling and a little frightening. Just looking at him sent her heart racing and her stomach swirling with want, not to mention the warm throbbing that settled right between her legs whenever she was near him. Or thinking about him. Or dreaming about him.