Hero - The Assignment: A Military Romance (10 page)

He didn't disappoint. “One of you has to plan for your future. One of you has to take some responsibility.”

My temper flared. “You want me to go to college? Fine, I'll sign up for online classes tomorrow. Whatever.”

He slammed his hands down on the desk, making me jump. “What I want is for you to be safe during what I'm hoping is a phase.”

I bit my tongue. Instead of saying any of the things that came to mind, I sipped my soda and waited. I'd already lost my temper once.

“Remember how your brother said a Special Forces operative saved his life?”

“Yes?” I asked, confused by the change of subject.

“I wanted to find some way to repay him for such a selfless act.”

“Didn't you have him shipped to Cedar-Sinai when you found out he was in a coma?” I asked.

“Yes.” He sounded pleased that I remembered. “But, as it turns out, he's also in need of a job and I've hired him.”

“Sounds good. I'm glad,” I said. I was, sort of. I didn't know the guy, but he saved my brother's life and that meant more to me than anything else.

“Excellent.”

Okay, that wasn't the sort of response I was expecting. How else should I have responded to hearing that my grandfather was going to help the guy who saved my brother's life?

“I'm happy you'll cooperate.”

My head jerked up. Cooperate?

“You'll be safe with him as a bodyguard, because even if I don't know where you are, I'll know how to reach you. And our hero will get a well-paid and much-needed job.”

Was he fucking kidding me?

“You hired a babysitter?” I asked. I was so angry that my voice was shaking.

“A bodyguard. It's the best thing for all of us,” Grandfather said as he opened the door to his office.

My head was spinning, but I was moving toward the doorway before I could process it. Habit. I turned once I was in the hallway, my mouth already open to argue.

His phone rang before I could say a word, and he gave me a rare smile. “I'm glad we got that settled.”

Settled? I thought as the door closed in my face. No fucking way. Hero or not, there was no way I was going to let someone settle into a well-paid position as my babysitter. I couldn't get him fired, and I didn't want him to quit since he needed the job. I did, however, need to figure out a way to get him to request another position.

But first, I thought as I texted my driver, I was going to enjoy my freedom while I still had it.

Chapter 8

Leighton

It
was easy enough to find Paris when I returned to the club. She was dancing on stage with the front man of the band gyrating next to her. She motioned for me to join her, but my grandfather's news had shocked me completely sober. Not only did he think me incapable of going to college or doing anything useful with my life, my grandfather had now decided I couldn't even be trusted to take care of myself. I knew Paris would find the idea of me trailing around a bodyguard hilarious, but I wasn't ready to make fun of it yet.

I need a drink, I thought.

The VIP Lounge bouncer still recognized me, so I slipped past his appreciative smile and headed for the bar. Ricky's tab was always open so I ordered myself a bottle of champagne. Ignoring the bartender's offer to join me, I took the bottle and leaned against a high top table overlooking the pulsing dance floor. I didn't want company just yet.

“You gonna drink that all by yourself?” a young man in a loose suit asked.

“You already have a drink or had, anyway.” I frowned down at my splashed shoes. “You're spilling most of it.”

“I can't help it,” he said, trying to give me a charming grin. “You knocked me off balance.”

I gave him a dismissive look. “Maybe it's a good thing the rest of your drink is gone.”

It didn't even faze him. He pushed up his sleeves and settled against the table next to me. The bouncer took a step forward, but I shook my head. In the back of the room I saw Ricky appearing from a narrow door with the blonde in a green dress. Maybe company is what I needed.

“All right,” I said suddenly as I turned toward the young man. “I'll forgive your sloppy introduction. Here, have a little champagne.”

I leaned over and poured a bit into his almost empty glass. I knew he was drinking something stronger, but he didn't seem to care.

“I like your hair.” He leaned closer so he didn't have to shout as loud over the music.

I smiled but didn't say anything. I didn't need conversation.

Ricky caught sight of me and his expression darkened.

Perfect.

He tore through the crowd. The blonde in the green dress called for him, but he gave her an over-the-shoulder wave. I could see her throwing her hands up in the air. Squawking like a bird, I thought. It might've been a nasty thought, but she'd known Ricky had a girlfriend, so I didn't exactly feel too bad.

“Red lips too.” The young man next to me was still talking. “I gotta know though, does the carpet match...”

He didn't get to finish the sentence because, suddenly, Ricky was there.

“That's my girlfriend, asshole,” Ricky said, shoving the young man's chest.

The reaction was almost immediate. The two started pushing each other, and I stepped back with a pleading look at the bouncer. He immediately towered over the high top table and clamped one giant hand on Ricky, and the other on my admirer.

“Lay off, man,” Ricky shouted. “Leighton, tell him I'm with you! I'm with her! She's my girlfriend.”

I sipped my champagne and let Ricky dangle by the collar in the bouncer's grip. The young man in the loose suit babbled a list of promises and the bouncer lowered him to the ground. I didn't even glance his way as he backed out of the VIP lounge.

“Oh, I guess I'll have to claim that one,” Paris said, joining me at the high top table.

The bouncer looked skeptical as he glanced toward me, but I shrugged and he released Ricky who immediately hurried to my side.

“Your friend is hoping you'll rejoin her,” I said, waving a hand at the seething blonde in the green dress. He didn't say anything, but he did try to slide his arms around my waist.

I gave a little side step and drained the rest of my glass. The champagne wasn't working fast enough, and I wished I'd ordered something stronger. I had a joint hidden in the lining of my purse, but I didn't really feel like that again. Sure, it made me all giggly, but I wanted to feel better than giggly.

I turned to my best friend. “Please tell me your new front man lover has some sort of bad habit he's willing to share.”

“You mean like these?” Paris reached into her purse and pulled out a bag with two tiny orange pills.

“Up or down?” I asked.

“All the way up,” Paris said.

Perfect.

“As long as I don't end up on the roof,” I said as I let her drop one into my palm.

“Hey,” Ricky protested. “Don't I get one?”

“No,” I said sharply, as I popped it with a chaser of champagne. “What you get to do is pick out my next dance partner and he better be handsome.”

Ricky ran both hands through his hair. “Come on, babe, I wanted to be with you. I
want
to be with you.”

No way. He wasn't going get away with it that easily. “And I
want
you to pick out some handsome man for me to dance with.”

“Ooo, let me, let me!” Paris begged.

The blonde in the green dress was still trying to get his attention, and I knew the moment he saw her because his arm slipped around my shoulders. “Alright, beautiful, you're right. My penance will be to watch your gorgeous body up against...”

I watched him scan the crowd.

“Him.” Ricky pointed.

The man's white tee shirt was so tight it was more like a layer of film than clothing. Wide shoulders flexed underneath the taut fabric, and when he saw us looking he flashed a bright white smile.

“Underwear model, has to be, right?” Paris asked.

“How about I find out,” I said.

I filled my champagne glass and raised it to the hunk with a wink. He smiled again, and a dimple appeared above his chiseled jaw. I felt a fizz of excitement as the alcohol and orange pill took hold. I could feel the tension radiating off of my boyfriend as I slipped out from under Ricky's arm and sauntered across the lounge to meet the handsome man.

“Please tell me you want to dance,” I said. “I'm tired of talking.”

He smiled another bright flash and took my hand without a word. The muscular model pulled me down the stairs to the dance floor and then wrapped me close. I liked the way he leaned back and let me hang across his body, holding on as he set the rhythm. We danced in silence for a couple songs before I finally spoke.

“Not bad dancing for an underwear model,” I said, purposefully leaning into him.

“Who told you what I do?” he asked.

I laughed. “Just a lucky guess from my friend over there.”

Paris waved with one hand, her other arm clamped through Ricky's as she held him back. I supposed one dance had been enough and two was making him a bit crazy. Too bad. I wasn't done yet.

“What's the deal with that guy over there looking all mad?” my model dance partner asked.

“Oh, he doesn't think I can take care of myself.” I gave Ricky a dismissive look, and then muttered, “Kind of the theme of my night.”

The colored lights and lasers over the dance floor shattered into feathers and floated around me as the orange pill worked on my senses. Ricky's shaggy hair extended over his face until I thought he looked more like a donkey than a man. What the hell had Paris given me?

It was great.

“You remind me of someone,” I told the underwear model.

“The guy from that superhero movie?” he asked. “I get that a lot.”

“No, that's not it,” I said, letting my fingers squeeze his wide shoulder muscles. I frowned. He was almost as big as my...whatever he'd been. “A real life hero. Did I tell you I almost drowned once?”

He let his hands slip down my back to the curve of my ass. “You almost drowned? Maybe someone should be taking care of you.”

“Maybe you?” I asked, the room whirling around us. I laughed. “You remind me of the guy who saved me from drowning. He pulled me from the pool and was there when I woke up. Kept me up all night too.”

“Should I be jealous?”

“Oh, yes,” I giggled, the noise turning into butterflies that danced around our heads. “He was supposed to make sure my concussion didn't get worse, but instead he made my night really, really good.”

The underwear model slowed our dance steps and pulled back. His expression had changed. “You're gorgeous, don't get me wrong, but I'm not up for games.”

He glanced back to where Ricky was dragging Paris down the stairs. I could hear him shouting about his girlfriend getting groped.

Fuck. The shit was about to hit the fan.

The bouncer signaled his man by the stage to grab Ricky. The front man interrupted the song to ask Paris if she was alright. The drummer slammed his cymbals with a deafening crash.

“What are you talking to her for?” the drummer yelled into his microphone.

Laughing hysterically, Paris released Ricky and ran up to me. “Are you as messed up as me? Let's get out of here.”

Ricky went straight to the towering underwear model who was too busy gawking at the complete breakdown of the band to pay much attention to Ricky yelling at him. The drummer was now wielding his stool like a club and chasing the front man back and forth across the stage.

All of that, I assumed was real. I was pretty sure the koala bear riding on the drummer's back, however, was just the drugs.

I protested as Paris grabbed my hand. “But the show's just getting good.”

She laughed and yanked me toward the side door. We burst into the alley and ran out onto the street. A passing cab honked and slammed on its brakes. Paris ran up and drummed across its trunk until the driver jumped out. He yelled as she spun on her high heels, and we ran across the four lanes of traffic to the Western-themed bar.

“Howdy, boys,” I said as we ducked behind a group of cowboy wannabes.

There were shouts from across the street, and it was impossible to tell if it was Ricky, the fighting band members, or the angry cab driver. Either way, it was fucking hilarious.

“I'm not going home with Ricky tonight,” I told Paris suddenly. “And I'm not going back to my grandfather's house either.”

“Who says we're going home?” Paris winked at me. “I think we might need to buy some cowboy boots and dance until dawn.”

One of the men we were hiding behind tipped his hat and smiled as he looked down at us. “Sounds like a plan, ladies.”

I blinked as his white hat became a puffy owl. Fuck. I was afraid its sharp beak was going to peck at me.

“Why does everything have feathers?” I asked in a not-so-quiet whisper.

Paris peered at his hat, her eyes wide. Suddenly, she shrieked. Flapping her arms she stumbled back and almost fell into traffic. The cowboys stared at her, but I wasn't sure which they were more concerned with, our sudden fear of hats or the fact that Paris was flashing all of them her very skimpy pink thong.