Back Off: Reed Security: Book One

by Robin Leaf

  I take a deep breath and study his face, how his jaw flexes and his eyes glass over.

  “Have you seen anyone?”

  “Like dating?” His nose wrinkles. “Hell no. I’m not interested.”

  “Actually I meant a professional.”

  “You want me to hire a hooker?”

  “No, dumbass, a therapist.” My hand finds his upper arm. “I don’t know what you went through after, but you might have some sort of post traumatic something or other.” I wait until he looks at me. “A therapist might help with –”

  “My reaction to blood? I’ve always had that. It wasn’t because of –” His eyes go back to the road and he sighs. “Yeah,” he nods. “It might be time to make an appointment.”

  We turn onto a grassy lot and drive toward a building, where a crowd of women seem to be gathered.

  “Who are they, Fionn?”

  He grunts. “Fans.”

  Fans? Who has fans that gather like this at eight in the morning?

  “Do not get out of the car,” he orders, pulling into a parking spot. After throwing the car in park, he pulls out his cell and hits a button. “We’re here. A little help, please.”

  Less than a minute later, a team of trained, muscular robots march out of the building, corralling the crowd backward. A gargantuan sunglassed black man with a stern face rips open my passenger door, removes me from my seat, and places me on the ground. His large hand wraps completely around my left bicep, and he walks so that he places himself between me and the screaming girls, who try desperately to reach through the wall of meat. It seems like he contemplates tucking me under his arm like a football, but ultimately, he decides against it.

  “If you’re going to save me from the locas, at least tell me –”

  “Joe.”

  He throws open the door and practically shoves me inside the metal building.

  “I was going to ask if you could tell me why I am here, but names are good. I’m Cristiana.”

  He grunts, “I know,” and motions toward the center of the room.

  I look around as I walk. We’re on some sort of set, and I get an eyeful of the man who left me hanging both last night and this morning. We stare for a minute, and I can’t decide if I am happy to see him or pissed that he ditched me. I take one step his direction before he flashes a sad expression and walks the other direction.

  Well, that just made up my mind. I’m pissed.

  “Is she finally here?” I hear from my right.

  I turn to look who asked, and I’m struck speechless. There, standing in all his beautiful glory, is none other than Ignacio Muñoz, the fantasy of every woman on the planet.

  Holy shit.

  He’s shorter than I expected, but damn, is the man fine.

  “Is this her?” he asks Joe, then turns to address me. “You know, if you really wanted this job, you’d have been on time, but no, you’re late, mi’ja,” he says, pretty condescendingly.

  And just like that, I go from fangirl back to one pissed off chica.

  “Oh my God, lo siento, your highness, but I don’t even know what this is.” I wave my hand around the room. “Just so you know, I was awakened at the butt crack of dawn and not told why we were driving forty-five minutes out to this killing field and almost mobbed by your loco fans.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I shift my weight to one foot. “So if you have a problem with my tardiness, you can complain right after you bésame el culo.”

  I turn to storm off, but I bounce off a hard stomach. Looking up, I see Joe flash his teeth at me, and it’s hard to tell with his sunglasses still on inside the building if it’s a smile or an attempt at intimidation. He turns me around.

  Ignacio looks up to Joe before looking back to me and smirks. “Okay, fuego poqueño, point made.” He looks up to Joe again. “Why didn’t y’all tell her what she’ll be doing?”

  Fionn, who somehow scored a cup of coffee he casually sips, steps up to us. “I wanted to surprise her.” He hands me a separate cup. “And we didn’t have time for coffee, so she may not be herself just yet.”

  I take the cup and slurp the first sip, checking to make sure it’s not going to scald me. Once I feel the caffeine hit my tongue, I relax, sighing my relief.

  “Oh, that’s good shit.”

  “Come on, Fuego. I’ll tell you what I need from you,” Ignacio says, nodding his head to follow him. “Let’s see wha’cha got.”

  ***

  When he played the song for me, immediately I had a vision of how the video should look. The song is sultry, sexy even, lyrics about how a man wants a woman to notice him. I took it a bit more figuratively than what the lyrics suggest.

  He wants it to be about seduction… a man seduces a reluctant woman until they have sex. I think it needs to be how a woman can be a partner in a man’s life, not an accessory. His idea is sexist; mine is progressive.

  Let’s just say this cabrón isn’t exactly on board.

  “Last time I checked, it’s my video,” he growls in my face. “My fans expect –”

  “I don’t care what your fans expect, Nachito,” I spit out. “And you’re right, it is your video, not your fans’.”

  His hands fly up in the air. “But my fans are the ones who will watch it. They want the sex stuff,” he screams, pointing to the door. “I’m not going ruin my career by letting some unknown niñita tell me how to run my shit. So just keep your boca shut about things you don’t understand.”

  “I can’t do that.” I cross my arms over my chest again. “Look, you called me. If you want me to work on this project, the concept needs to change.”

  “I didn’t call you. Your friend did. And I wish he didn’t now.” He turns to walk away. “This is no way to get a job.”

  “A job I didn’t even know about an hour ago, so if I walk, hey, no skin off my nose, but you… you lose another day of production and time finding someone else to take this pinche job.” He keeps walking, so I yell louder. “If you want to look like a pendejo and ruin your career, make the video your way.”

  He spins around, walking toward me with his finger pointing in my face. “I plan to. In case you forgot, I’m Ignacio Muñoz, the hottest ticket in the nation.”

  “Yeah, you’re Ignacio Muñoz, who is about to make a video where he looks like a twisted pervert who can’t take no for an answer and coerces a girl to have sex.” I get right in his face. “You. Will. Lose. Fans.”

  Some guy in a suit interrupts and pulls Ignacio aside. They stand close, whispering some apparent argument I can’t hear before the guy makes an emphatic point and walks away. Ignacio watches the suit leave.

  When he sees me watching, he scowls, grinding his teeth.

  “So I guess he agrees with me?”

  He rolls his eyes and grumbles, “My music stands on its own. There’s too much emphasis on the importance of a video.” Crossing his arms now, he looks like he’s trying not to pout. “MTV doesn’t even play them anymore.”

  “Yet here you are… making one.”

  He throws his hands out to the side once more. “Because the record company expects it.” It almost sounds like a whine.

  I relax and let my hands rest on my hips. “Then why not do something that won’t make you look like a raging asshole and make one that will empower your fans?” I lean closer and stage whisper, “We can even end it with the sex you want.” Turning around to walk away, I throw over my shoulder, “As long as the girl gets to be on top.”

  Fifteen

  Noah

  “Noah, you made it,” Ignacio yells over the crowd he pushes through to shake my hand. “Thanks for coming, amigo.”

  I force a smile. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”

  Lie. I would have missed it, if not for the opportunity to see Cristiana, the girl who invades my every waking thought. Hell, she even takes over my non-waking ones, thankfully replacing the dreams I usually have. The one who I haven’t seen since I left her in the warehouse that day three months ago.
/>   This stupid video release party was just an excuse to see how she is.

  To see if she hates me.

  “Actually,” Ignacio says as he leans in, “I never got a chance to thank you for hooking me up with Nana.”

  Fuck. Hooking him up. I hide my cringe. He gets to call her Nana?

  “Please don’t tell her I said this,” he lowers his voice, “but she is a genius.”

  Yeah, dumbass, I’ve known that for eleven years.

  “He doesn’t have to tell me,” the voice that haunts me announces. “You just did.”

  He steps to the side, and you know those breaks in the clouds where the sun’s rays shine through, streaking the sky with beautiful bright light? Yeah, that’s what it’s like. I’m currently caught in one of her rays.

  But her eyes stay locked on his.

  God, did she get even more beautiful? She’s dressed in expensive jeans that really accentuate the curve of her ample ass, a short shirt that exposes her flat stomach and hangs off her shoulder, and brown leather boots. Her makeup is perfect, and her hair is in a braid casually thrown over her shoulder.

  She leans toward Ignacio and kisses him… on the fucking lips… for just a beat longer than is considered friendly.

  Fuck.

  “Thank you, Nachito,” she purrs, leaning her forehead against his cheek. She still hasn’t looked my direction.

  While swallowing down the rising bile, I look away, searching the room for someone to provide me an escape. There’s Joe, watching the crowd.

  “Excuse me,” I say.

  Finally, she turns my direction. I notice her eyes flash at my presence, as if she didn’t know it was me. She subtly steps away from Ignacio, except I’ve already seen what I never wanted to see.

  “I need to check in with Joe,” I explain, smiling their direction before walking away and concentrating on appearing casual.

  I feel like the pin has been pulled on my grenade, five seconds before I blow. I move with purpose, hoping I can at least put a hold on the explosion until I can force the pin back in. Pushing my way through the crowd, I get several dirty looks that turn withering when they see my face. Yeah, it’s best they back off. I haven’t found the pin just yet.

  Joe is assuming his normal stance, huge arms crossed over his enormous chest. I turn to stand next to him with my back against the wall, taking a second to perform some deep breaths to calm the rage threatening to burn this whole place down.

  “You okay, Boss?” Joe asks out of the side of his mouth.

  “You didn’t tell me they were together,” I growl through my teeth.

  He turns to me and narrows his eyes. “You didn’t ask.”

  “I shouldn’t have to.”

  “I’m sorry, Noah,” he says quietly. “But isn’t he a client, whose NDA I signed states that I’m not supposed to report on his private life to… anyone?”

  I push off the wall and face him.

  “That doesn’t apply to employees within the company.”

  Someone shushes the crowd to make an announcement about the song and video; I think it’s one of the record execs. I ignore the speech and keep staring at Joe.

  He looks me in the eye and moves his jaw back and forth, lowering his voice to a whisper. “If it caused a security issue, you’d know about it.” Turning to face the crowd, he adds, “They’ve been discreet, so there’s no cause for concern.”

  Damn him. He’s right, of course. Anything he told me about their relationship would just be gossip. I can’t be mad at him for upholding my own rigorous company policies.

  The lights in the large room at the record company dim, and the large screen flickers, beginning the video, which is so loud, talking is impossible.

  The song pulses like a heartbeat, exuding sensuality. Ignacio’s face takes up the entire screen as he sings to the camera.

  A woman comes into focus, dancing toward him… Cristiana.

  What the fuck? She was just supposed to choreograph the damn thing, not star in it.

  The video goes on to tell a story… one like I’ve seen her tell before through dance. He sees Cristiana, and she tilts his world sideways. They fall in love together, as partners, building a relationship of mutual trust and unity. It’s beautiful watching the story unfold.

  It’s beautiful watching her.

  The way she moves, so graceful and intense. I can see only her, ignoring anything else in the video. It’s easy since she is the real star.

  Her character in the video is so strong, so commanding. A siren.

  An angel.

  Not unlike the real thing.

  Ignacio’s character has no choice but to fall for her.

  I assume that’s also not unlike the real thing.

  They move to a bedroom, and the dance becomes more sensual… more sexual. More real.

  At least it alludes to it. It’s actually pretty artfully done, veiled through sheer fabric and suggestive flashes of skin. They both face each other, sitting up, her arching back… it’s hard to tell if they’re still dancing or having sex.

  Her face… it looks just like it did when I was on my knees in front of her, teasing her, touching her, tasting her. The taste I have dreamed about for three months.

  The end of the video shows Ignacio’s face… the face of a man in love.

  A face that doesn’t look faked.

  Fuck.

  The lights come up, and everyone cheers and rushes to congratulate Ignacio and Cristiana, who are wrapped in each other’s arms smiling. I slip around the crowd toward the door.

  With my hand on the push bar, I look over my shoulder. Cristiana locks those toffee-colored eyes on mine.

  I smile, this time a genuine one. I mouth, “Congratulations.”

  She furrows her brow, turning to Ignacio to whisper something in his ear.

  The bile threatens again, so I push the door open and walk through without looking back.

  I push the button to summon the elevator and wait, checking the time on my phone. Damn, I was only at the party for fifteen minutes.

  It kind of feels like it takes the elevator longer to arrive than I was in the party, but when it does, I push the button for the first level of the parking garage. I pat the keys for the ‘Cuda in my pocket, loving that I finally had an opportunity to drive her again. Sometimes, when I drive, I wish I could just take off up the PCH with my surfboard, only stopping to catch some juicy waves. If I only had the time right now.

  I’m slowly gathering information on the senator. I haven’t seen De La Torre at the club again, but Jack has met with several other unsavory characters in the last three months. Bringing any type of cameras in the club is strictly forbidden, but I was also able, with the help of my tech guy who provided some pretty sneaky surveillance technology, to get video of the senator in some, um, let’s just call them compromising positions. I mean, I don’t care what sexual shit he does. I don’t think Jason really cares, either. But we know the information would not sit well if it were to go public.

  Once I step off the elevator, I curse my late arrival to this event since I now have to walk way across the structure to my car. My phone rings in my pocket; it’s Jason.

  “Hey,” I answer, “I have some new evidence –”

  “What?” he asks. “Oh, that’s good. But that’s not why I called.” He clears his throat. “If I send you some information, can you check a Swiss Clinic out for me? They approached me stating that they’re running a clinical trial on some sort of treatment for my particular problem, and I want to know if it’s legit.”

  “Sure. But don’t email it. I’m coming to San Francisco tomorrow for Mom’s birthday. We can meet then,” I suggest. “I can show you my new evidence.”

  “Oh, hell no, Noah. Last time you showed me pictures of my dad tied up with… objects sticking out of him.” I can tell he shudders. “That was an image I just didn’t need burned into my brain.”

  I chuckle. “Not a fan of the Death Star butt plugs, huh?”


  “Not coming out of my father, and certainly not while he kneels in front of Darth Vader. It almost ruined Star Wars for me.”

  “Yeah, that wasn’t particularly pleasant to see in person, either. Vader? Wasn’t much of a grower. I mean if you’re going to tattoo a lightsaber on your dick, you should at least have the length to back it up. ”

  “God, you sound like Darla,” he laughs.

  It’s good to hear him laugh. Ever since he started hanging out with his mystery woman, he laughs a lot more.

  “At least I spared you the jizz shots.”

  “Jesus,” he mutters under his breath, snickering, “why do I call you?”

  “Because I’m your friend as well as your business partner.”

  “Yeah, well, one of those things can end.”

  “Okay, but just remember I have given you a great return on your investment. You’d be stupid to back out of our business deal now.”

  My car is just around the next concrete barrier, so I dig my keys out.

  “Then I’m ending our friendship,” he says.

  I know he’s joking, so I decide to push back.

  “C’mon, sweetheart, you know you can’t quit me,” I quip flirtatiously.

  He groans. “Call me when you get in town, asshole,” he says and hangs up.

  I pass the barrier to see someone leaning against my car… Cristiana. She pushes off the car but continues to look at the ground biting her thumb.

  “How did you beat me down here?” I ask.

  She looks up, and her lips turn up at the corners, but I see sadness in her eyes. “I took the stairs, güero.” She slinks toward the trunk of the car. “That elevator takes forever, you know. It sometimes pays to not be lazy.” Running her hand along the back of the car, she sighs. “You’ve taken good care of her.”

  For some reason, her presence here in this garage makes me angry. Until tonight, I’ve done all I can to avoid her, to stay away, yet here she is, chasing after me, when she is supposed to be with Ignacio, where she is happy and getting everything she deserves. I don’t get why she wants to tempt me…

  I take a step toward her. “I doubt you came all the way out here to see my car, Nana.”