by D. F. Jones
The owner, Carlos Reyes, was a dangerously powerful man. He named the gym Apollo, after the Greek god.
Spencer went into the small kitchen to grab a quick breakfast. He opened the refrigerator, peering inside before finally grabbing eggs, spinach, and avocado and whipping up an omelet. He made a point to eat healthy high protein meals. He sipped coffee and stared out the window into the parking lot full of old beat-up cars. His apartment wasn’t in the best part of town, but he had a roof over his head.
He took out his cell, swiped the screen, and pressed his bank app. His finger scrolled to look at his bank statement and balance. With frustration, he shouted, “I’m not going to survive at this rate!”
The fight was still three months away. He didn’t have anything to sell, and he’d be damned if he asked his stepdad for money. The man hadn’t hesitated to kick Spencer out of his fancy-ass mansion the day he turned eighteen, so Spencer joined the Marines.
What hurt him the most was his mother never stopped the physical and emotional abuse. The man was an admired, influential, upstanding citizen, and everyone loved him. Spencer bet the country club clique didn’t know that his stepdad was an abusive bastard. Countless nights, he beat Spencer because he looked like his real dad, until Spencer learned how to fight back.
His words still echoed in Spencer’s mind, “You’re a fucking loser. What the hell are you going to do now that you’ve graduated from high school? Do I need to mention you didn’t have the grades for college? I’ll never support your sorry ass.”
Spencer would prove him wrong.
He didn’t need the man’s money or his approval. He’d figure it out, somehow. Once he won the fight, he’d receive an exclusive UFC, Ultimate Fighting Championship contract.
He slid his cell into his pocket, then washed his dirty dishes. He tried keeping the apartment clean, but one day he’d have a housekeeper. He left the apartment, pulled up his hoodie, and sprinted to the gym in the early morning mist. Entering the gym, he waved to his buds.
“Hey, Spencer, do you want to spar?” Ash asked.
“Hell, yes. I need this win, you know.”
Ash said, “You will win, man. Positive attitude.”
“Let me get my hands wrapped real quick.” Spencer twisted off the water bottle cap and took several pulls, then smashed it and threw it in the recycle bin.
“I’ll get X to coach.” Ash walked to the cage.
Spencer smiled and followed him across the gym. He nodded at several fighters.
“Hey Spencer, I need a favor, man,” Ethan said. He was a fighter in the Light Heavyweight Division with several wins.
“Yeah, what’s up?” Spencer wiped his neck with a towel.
“I have this sweet job. The pay’s amazing, but I need to take care of my mom. She’s sick, and I don’t want to lose the job. Could you stand in for me until I return?”
“Hm, I’ll need more details, but sure.” He stood with a wide stance.
“It’s a guard detail for a very important man. You will be guarding his child, keeping the kid safe,” Ethan said.
“Uh, that sounds easy enough, I can do that. How did you get the job?” Spencer asked with an arched brow.
“My buddy Ryan got me the job since he’s the security manager, and that’s why he’s willing to allow me to find a fill-in.”
“Sounds good, I’m glad I can help out, and it’s also helping me out.” Spence said, “Give me the address where I need to report.”
“Awesome. You’ll report to Ryan. I’ll let him know you’re in, and I’ll text you the deets. How is this helping you?” Ethan smiled.
“I need money until my fight.” Spencer threaded his fingers through his hair.
“Cool, helps us both out.” Ethan pulled out his phone and sent the text with the information to Spencer.
“Talk to you later. X and Ash are waiting for me,” Spencer said and sauntered over to the cage area.
“Hey, you ready?” X asked.
Spencer extended his hands to get wrapped. “Yeah.”
“Sparring practice has helped sharpen your skills. You’re going to win the fight.” X slid the mitts on Spencer.
“Hell, yes, I’m so glad to hear that from you.” Spencer smiled and said, “I need to win, so I’m giving it my all.”
“I’m looking forward to your Vegas fight.” X slapped Spencer on the back.
“Seriously, you’re going to be there?”
“Wouldn’t miss it, man. The entire team will be there, even Carlos.”
“Awesome.”
Spencer stepped into the cage and bumped fists with Ash.
Chapter 4
Spencer
Spencer dressed in a black suit and white shirt supplied by Ryan. A little odd just to guard a child. Whatever, he needed the money. He would dress like a clown if they needed him to. He had to clock in at six a.m.
He drove his old Honda twelve miles then entered the Plaza parking. He’d never been in the building. He caught the elevator to the tenth floor where he met Ryan, the security manager. He had read and signed the NDA.
He knocked on the Plaza Security door, and Ryan greeted him. “Hey, Spencer. So you read the brief and signed the DNA.” Ryan wore the same suit style. He had dark piercing eyes.
“Yes, sir.”
“Fantastic, come on in.”
Spencer followed him inside, down a long hallway and inside a super sweet conference room which reminded him of that tv show, Succession.
“I’m glad you’re here on time. Mr. Ford is particular about being on time. It's better to show up early than late. Let me review your job description and your charge.” Ryan went into the details.
The kid must be a real pain in the ass. “So, this is a difficult child?”
“Oh, she’s feisty.” He paused with a slight grin. “Dior Ford is twenty-one years old, spoiled, Daddy’s darling, and very challenging. You’ll be her shadow. It is imperative to protect her at all costs. She doesn’t know this, but her ex has threatened to kill her. Cost him millions, and the ex has the chops to do it. Ford wants her protected until we take the bastard out, you dig?” Ryan brought up the security screen.
Oh, shit! What in the hell had he signed on to do? She’s not a child. She’s a grown woman. So why hadn’t Ethan mentioned that particular fact? Were they going to take out someone?
He watched the screen with Ms. Ford. Damn, she was beautiful and sexy. Bitch patrol? “Um, ex needs taking out? Is that something I must do? If so, I’m going to need more money. And, who is Mr. Ford?” Spencer rubbed the back of his neck.
“He’s a high-level mob boss. You know the mafia?” Ryan scrutinized Spencer’s reaction.
He clenched his jaw. He appeared calm on the exterior, but on the interior, he trembled. People do not mess with the mob. “Okay, look, I can handle any situation. I’m a marine, but just so we’re clear, this is a temporary job.”
“We’re cool. Here’s her address.” He threw Spencer keys. “The key to the SUV you’ll drive her around in. I have another car that will follow close behind. Alfred and Peter are her regular detail unit. Listen, most important— don’t let her out of your sight. Call me only if a situation arises.” Ryan smirked. “She’ll be expecting you in ten minutes. Good luck.”
“Right.” Spencer nodded, turned, and exited the security office.
He pressed the key fob and went to the SUV that honked. He turned his cell to vibrate then pressed the ignition. The GPS lit with her address. He pulled out of the garage and hit the freeway. Ten minutes later, he drove to the electronic gate, rolled down his window, and entered the code, then he continued up to the circular driveway.
He thought his stepfather was loaded. This mansion made his house look small. He exited the vehicle and made his way to the ginormous entrance.
Before he could knock, the door opened, and a butler said, “Miss Ford is dressing. Eliza will take you to the kitchen until your services are needed.”
Wow, the house w
as massive, like a museum or something.
Spencer followed Eliza down the hallway to the kitchen. The scent of bacon made his mouth water. “Hi, I’m Spencer. That smells delicious. Is it possible to get a cup of coffee?” He grinned. Most women loved his dimples when he smiled.
“Sure, I’ll pour you a cup,” she said with a smile. “I’m Ivy, the cook. I’ve never seen you before.”
Spencer leaned against the island. “I’m Ms. Ford’s new security guard.”
“Ah, that’s good.” Ivy handed him the cup, then said, “Hungry?”
“No, thank you. Um, the butler told me to wait in here, but I have orders not to leave her side.” He took a sip.
“She’s in the master suite.” She pointed and said, “Down the hall. Dior’s room is the last door on the right.”
“Thanks.” Spencer finished the coffee and left the empty cup on the counter.
“No problem, I’ll bring Dior breakfast in a few minutes.” Ivy turned back to cooking.
He made his way down the hall, mentally taking in all doors, windows, and exits. Any place that a would-be assassin might access. At the last entry, he took a deep breath and lightly rapped on the door.
He couldn’t believe he was going to guard a drop-dead gorgeous, mafia daughter. Hands-off, Spencer, he mentally repeated the mantra.
“Come in, Ivy. Good morning, and please set the tray on the table.” Dior waved her hand without looking, and she went into the private bathroom.
He couldn’t help but stare at her long, golden-brown wavy hair hitting at her mid-back, briefly glancing at her firm breasts and taut nipples outlined against the tank top.
“Um, hey, I’m Spencer, your new guard.” He swallowed.
“What are you doing? I’ve not finished dressing,” Dior yelled, blushing while covering her arms across her chest.
“I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I have strict orders. I must search your room.” He didn’t wait for permission, but proceeded to check the windows, armoire, a walk-in closet that was bigger than his whole apartment, and lastly, the master bathroom. “All clear. Is there somewhere specific you would like to go today?”
Her cheeks fired red. Steam practically came out of her ears. “Let’s be honest, um, Spencer. I do not want, nor do I need a bodyguard inside my bedroom. Wait outside.”
He watched her labor to breathe while he gazed into the most spectacular turquoise eyes he’d ever seen. She bit her bottom lip, and he wondered how it would be to taste it. She pointed to the door and said, “Out, now.”
He took a step closer and could see the rapid pulse along the cord of her throat. “Miss Ford, we’re going to be very close over the next few weeks. We’re going to be attached at the hip because I am getting paid to be your shadow. I need this job, so how about a little cooperation?”
“You cannot be serious,” Dior replied; her jaw muscles ticked. “Wait. Outside. My. Door.”
“I’m not an idiot.” His eyes scanned her lips, then traveled the length of her body, her small waist, the swell of her hips to the tips of her painted pink toenails. “I don’t work for you, Miss Ford, I work for your father. I am your babysitter, and if you don’t want a time out, I suggest you pay close attention to me. I may save your life one day.” He threw his hands up in surrender. “I’ll wait at the door.”
She picked up the Tiffany crystal egg from her side table and threw it at his head just as the door closed, making a significant dent in the door.
“Oh my god,” she muttered. That-that man, bodyguard or not, wasn’t in charge of her. She fumed.
He’s something else. He’s enormous with lethal good looks. Okay, so she admitted, his light gray eyes framed by thick black lashes nearly took her breath away. Not to mention, he had perfectly shaped lips.
Her father didn’t hire that man. She’d bet her life on it. Oh, she was going to have some fun at her dad’s expense.
After dressing, she opened the door. “I have a lot of things to do today. I hope you can keep up.” She grazed his arm.
Spencer seemed amused. “I’m at your service.” He bowed, then took her hand and kissed it. “I will take you anywhere, and I promise to take care of you, Miss Ford.”
She withdrew her hand and said, “Please, call me Dior.”
Chapter 5
Spencer
Spencer pulled out of the driveway onto the street and made his way to the freeway.
“Spencer, here are my destination points today.” She rattled off a list of upscale boutiques in the city, and then she surprised him. “Our last stop will be Ford Children’s Hospital. I volunteer in the Critical Care Pediatric wing. So, I am glad you’re helping me. I can multitask much faster when my guards stay on schedule.”
He glanced in the rear-view mirror. Uptight rich bitches didn’t volunteer except for fundraisers that landed them in the society magazines. Most of the wealthy women he’d met were more concerned about the selfies they took and the followers they reached. Maybe she wasn’t as shallow as she appeared.
“Hm, I’ll keep up.” Spencer's gaze returned to the road.
“It looks like Alfred and Peter are tailing us. Any enlightenment about what my dad’s been up to? Three bodyguards seem like overkill.” Dior reached in her purse and pulled out a hand mirror, then applied more red lipstick and smacked her lips. “Look, Spencer, I’ll try not to be a pain in your ass, but I know my father, and I know he wouldn’t hire you.”
“Why wouldn’t he hire me?”
“Have you met Alfred or Peter?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you looked in the mirror?”
He wanted to hear her say it. “This morning, as I spruced up for the detail.”
“They’re not exactly GQ material. You, on the other hand, could be on the cover.”
He chuckled. “So, you think I’m hot.”
“That’s an understatement. My father wants me married to one of his associates. I tried to appease him, but the man, well, let’s say, he stayed on the prowl. So, I don’t want to marry—ever. I love kids, but I don’t want to expose my children to the scrutiny of the organization. I do like to play. You wanna play with me, Spencer?”
He swallowed hard. “Hmph, I plead the fifth, Dior.”
He drove to Union Square shopping center and parked on the top floor. He exited the vehicle and opened the passenger door for Dior as her backup guards parked next to the SUV.
“Keep up, Spencer, I have lots of shopping to do,” Dior said with a grin.
The first stop was in the Louis Vuitton shop. She occasionally glanced over her shoulder as Spencer stayed close but allowed her some independence.
He knew the circumstance of her extra detail and kept a sharp eye out for anything or anyone suspicious. She was a looker and man he could bounce quarters off her tight ass.
She held up a cream leather stylishly square oversized Onthego GM tote. “Cute, right?” she asked.
He shrugged then gave her a slight nod.
She laughed. “Awesome. I’m buying it.” She handed the tote bag to the salesperson.
“Hello, Miss Ford. Charge?”
“Yes, please, Anna. And wrap it. It’s a gift.” Dior took a step back and placed her hand on Spencer’s forearm. “Ivy’s birthday is tomorrow.”
Spencer noted the price tag. Rich people. He could live six months on that kind of green.
“Are we having fun yet?” Dior asked.
The salesperson handed her the shopping bag, and Dior gave it to Spencer then headed out the door.
She went into the lingerie boutique. “If you’d like, you can wait outside.”
“No, ma'am. I’m not to leave your side.”
She was testing him, and he knew it. But she’d have to do better than lingerie to get under his skin. Her fingers grazed silk undies, the lacy bras then picked up a lilac cami, and she asked, “Like or not like?”
He’d love to see her wearing that little number with him taking it off with his teeth.
/> He shrugged again. “It makes no difference to me one way or the other.”
“Careful, Spencer. Your words relay indifference, but your body says something else entirely.”
A young hot redhead approached. She directed her attention to Dior but kept looking at him. “May I help you, Miss Ford?” she said and wet her lips.
Dior waved her hand. “One in each color, please. And for heaven sakes, stop drooling over my bodyguard.”
Spencer laughed out loud then quickly recovered to his stoic demeanor.
She spent another half hour torching him with sexy pajamas and see-through nighties. His jaw hurt from clenching, and he needed to adjust himself in the worse way.
After the salesperson rang up several boxes, she went to hand them to Dior, who pointed to Spencer. “He’s my errand boy, little red.”
She turned on a dime and practically sprinted out the door.
“Hey, wait up, Dior, stop.” The multiple shopping bags hindered his ability to keep up with her, and as he exited the store, he learned all too soon, she’d given him the slip. “Damn it.” He dropped the bags and phoned Ryan with trembling hands. “I lost her.”
In the hallway, he put the phone on speaker while trying to determine which way she went.
“She’s good at escaping, but we have eyes everywhere. She’s hailed a cab. Alfred and Peter are in pursuit. Get to your vehicle and head north. Keep your phone on speaker.”
He raced to the SUV and spun out of the garage, heading north.
The little bitch knew what she was doing the whole time. He lost his charge in a little over two hours and prayed nothing happened to her, or he was dead meat.
Ryan said, “Dior’s at the hospital. Do you have the address?”
“Yeah. Pediatric Critical Care?”
“Yes, Alfred and Peter are watching the two main entrances. Find her, Spencer. Hey, don’t beat yourself up too hard— but don’t let this happen again. Are we clear?”
