Bodyguard Dearest (Bodyguard #1) (3 page)

I learned the art of the five-minute nap in the Korengal Valley in Afghanistan. No matter how hostile the squat, I could get a few winks whenever my gun wasn’t needed. I might wake up to a living hell, a world where dreams spilled as fast as blood from veins, but for five minutes I floated in the ether above the fuss and the fray. Rifles rang out all around me and just turned into thunderclaps within the clouds of my slumber.

I brought back my ability to nap and little else from those five years in the service of God and country. I also possess a few specific skills of little value in the civilized world except to men like Jordan Kane.

One-by-one, I shut down the electricity within. I know how to do this. I lean back and chase away the light from what burns brightest inside me. Gone is the violence. Gone is the emptiness. Gone is the sense of duty.

Her eyes are the last thing I am able to chase away.

Trista

H
ow on earth could my life get worse? I’m a hot mess and a train wreck and a total fuck-up all rolled into one miserable time bomb. In classic Trista form, I’m not just back where I started, but so-much-fucking-WORSE. That gorilla Tanner Hayes will be breathing down my neck every second of every day for at least a month.

Totally numb. Beyond anger or any human feeling at all, I need to channel all the suppressed negative energy into something useful before I explode. A hot shower might be a good start. I kick a few random pieces of clothing off the floor and into my hands. Walking into my spacious bathroom I stop when I see how red my cheeks are in the mirror.

I drop the clothes into the empty laundry hamper, fighting off the annoying thought that both my father and Tanner might have a point when they suggest I’m spoiled. Even the hamper reminds me of my pampered life. When I left here, it was packed full with my laundry and now all that clothing is gone, miraculously folded and placed in drawers or on hangers.

The invisible hands of household fairies and pixies have been spoiling me this way since birth. There is so much I take for granted. True independence begins with the small things, like doing your own laundry or cooking your own meals. I should be able to do these things without help.

I’m about to slide out of my jeans to shower when I hear a loud thud coming from outside. I rush back to the bedroom to peek outside the window.

Two beefy security guys walk down the path to the main gate with a third man between them. By the looks of it, they’re escorting him out forcibly.

Who is this poor guy? An intruder? Someone my father’s not pleased with? What the hell are they going to do with him? It’s not like anybody would be willing to answer those questions for me, but I decide to go out and look for answers anyway.

I’m tired of being outside the loop. If Tanner is my bodyguard now, doesn’t that mean I’m his boss, more or less? One thing’s for sure, it won’t be easy for him to dodge my questions anymore—not if he wants a single moment of peace. He can’t run. He’s stuck with me.

The big guy thought I was annoying before? Huh! You haven’t seen nothing yet, Tanner Hayes. My teeth are coming out. You’ll wish you were back in the Middle East before I am through with you.

I zip up my jeans and run down the stairs to the back door that leads to the security team’s building. Mister muscle cake will regret having agreed to guard me like some rabid animal who needs to be subdued.

I’m about to go out the door when I hear my mother’s voice.

“Honey, you're back!” Her hair is a softer shade of blonde than it was three days ago when I left. Really, Mom? You found time to do your hair while your sweet daughter was missing?

Oh well, I might as well give her the benefit of the doubt. It’s not the first time I took off like that and she probably was left in the dark for a while. I decide not to get clarification on the matter of her hair. I’d like to think she would cancel a hair appointment if I had been kidnapped or worse.

She wraps her arms around me before I can respond. All my senses are instantly submerged in her distinct combination of perfume and soaps, the most exquisite and sublime scents money can buy. I’ve always loved the way my mother smells and I kind of feel like a child when she hugs me, which is a rare thing these days.

“Mom, it wasn’t a big deal. I was with a guy I’m dating,” I say, pulling back a little.

She steps back to shake her head. “Another romance? Tris, I wasn’t born yesterday. Whoever this young man is, I know he’s just another way for you to escape. I just don’t understand why? Don’t you know how much we love you?”

“I know, Mom. Love isn’t the question here. Breathing is the question. I’m spiritually suffocated and just want to lead my own life.”

I don’t know why I bother. I’ve said it all before. We’ve said it all before. Everyone at Casa Kane knows the deal. This shit is stuck on repeat. I’m sure the house staff find us ridiculous. I live in a room the size of most family apartments and I arrogantly refer to it as a prison.

My mother lets out a sigh. “Believe it or not, I understand,” she says. “But that doesn’t make me any less worried. We all have to accept our place in life, baby. You’re my youngest. You will always be my baby whether you like it or not.”

Okay, I did not expect that. Sincerity is not my mother’s usual approach. I guess she’s been thinking about Miles, my brother, who took a part of her with him when he passed. I try not to judge my mother and her manicured life.

“Don’t worry, Mom, please. One of daddy’s good squad is never too far. You know that. Your baby always has a sitter.” I realize that didn’t come off as humorous as I intended. Sounded a little bitter in fact. An actress I’m not.

“Your time will come, honey,” she says, brushing back my hair. “You just need to be patient.”

Real strong advice. I’ll pack that away with
the grass is always greener
and
the sun will come out tomorrow
. I should be set for life with such wisdom on my side. I nod with a smile and then cover the few yards to the security building quickly. I feel rudderless now. My conviction to make Tanner’s life harder has even begun to weaken.

Like in a bad movie, I walk right into his chest as he steps out the exact moment I reach out to ring the door buzzer.

Tanner puts both his big hands on my shoulders to steady me.

“You almost,” I say without a clue what to say next. I just stand silently looking up into his intense eyes.

“Can I help you with something?” he says, face cold as stone.

I straighten my back and neck before I talk. Shit, I should never stand that close to Tanner without heels on. His sheer size makes me feel like I’m about to vanish. “Everything?” I say, shrugging. “Aren’t you supposed to be my shadow? I could have slipped on a banana peel by now.”

“I have that covered,” he says. “You’re good.”

“But I’m not good, that’s the whole point.”

He starts walking away before I even finish my sentence. What the hell? Why is he being so polite? I’d expect at least a sarcastic remark or two.

It takes me a second before I make up my mind to turn and follow him. I’m not sure what I’m doing. It’s supposed to be the other way around—him following me and me trying to lose him.

Tanner gets to the fitness center in the basement where most guards work out as part of their ongoing training and daily routine.

My heart skips a beat, or maybe all the beats, when he takes off his jacket and his upper body pops out of a tight sleeveless shirt. Maybe it’s just reflexes that keep my heart going when he bends over to pick up a barbell because I sure as hell don’t control it anymore.

My mouth reluctantly waters at the sight of his huge flexing biceps underneath that perfect, unblemished golden tanned skin of his as he starts working out. This is all Vaughn’s fault for so completely lacking in masculinity.

Tanner acts like I’m not even here. It just makes me more determined to get his attention. “Hey, what happened earlier?” I say. “I saw two of your goons escorting someone off the property.”

“That’s classified,” he says, grimacing as he lifts.

“So you won’t tell me?”

“Nope.”

He puts down the barbell and walks to a shelf on the wall to get a towel.

“Tanner, Tanner, Tanner,” I say with a sigh. “Is this new tactic supposed to keep me in line? If only you were half as smart as you think you are.”

He wipes his forehead and upper arms before he climbs onto an elliptical bike. The stubborn jerk is completely avoiding eye contact.

“Not a thing? You won’t say anything?” I pester as I follow him. “You won’t ask me my point?” I don’t know why it pisses me off that he doesn’t take the bait, but it does. I’m furious like he owes me something, like he’s obligated to talk to me. “Like it or not, you work for…”

He cuts me off just by finally fixing his severe eyes on me. “That man you saw?” he says. “He was supposed to be watching you the day you ran off. That’s the result of the little tricks you pull. A man loses a job.”

This throws me off by a lot. “What are they going to do to him?”

He stops his workout. “What do you think?”

I swallow hard, feeling my throat going dry. “You don’t mean…?”

“You’re so gullible,” he says with a slight grin. Finally, I’m getting a human reaction out of him. “He lost his job. That’s all. And he will probably never get hired again, at least not in this city. Your father will see to that.”

He resumes his workout, completely ignoring the frustrated look on my face. Did I really cause a man to lose his job? Wait, I must have caused many men to lose their jobs with my escapes.

“Why are you still here?” Tanner asks.

I can’t think of anything more to say.

He’s honestly managed to make me feel smaller and smaller now. I’m not liking myself much right now. “I need to get to school,” I blurt out. “I guess you are to escort me?”

“You can take one day off,” he says. “Hell, only hours ago you were planning to drop out permanently.”

Condescending bastard. Exactly who does he think he is, treating me like I’m some stupid child? Even if I am.

I’m done with trying to be civil with him. Whatever my issues may be, he has no right to make them worse. Turnabout is fair play. I plan to make things worse for him as well. He deserves it. You better watch out, Tanner Hayes. There’s a storm brewing and its name is Hurricane Trista.

Take Me Home

-Two Years Later-

Trista

I
t’s fucking snowing. It’s been snowing for hours without a single break. Soft, swirling snowflakes stick to the dirty motel windows like wet glue.

I’ve never seen that much snow before, not that I can remember anyway. I might have when I was a little girl and my father took us with him on one of his business trips up north or maybe to Europe. But I have no memories of it. I suppressed a whole bunch of memories when Miles, my five-year-old brother, was killed in that road accident. Our trips ended after that. My father started traveling alone and my three sisters and I went into therapy. I still haven’t been able to bring back all of my childhood memories from the time before my little brother died.

Even up here, somewhere near Penticton, Canada, almost fourteen hundred miles away from Los Angeles, I know I’m not safe from my messed-up family’s reach. No matter how far I go, I will never be free or rid of them. They will haunt me like evil spirits in a medieval castle.

In theory, a twenty-one-year old has every right in the world to pack up and go, even a few days before Christmas. That would be true everywhere else except in my father’s world. In that world, you do as you’re told and you say
thank you
for it. As long as he’s breathing, none of us is free or safe or even allowed to live a sane life. We live in fear of my father and in fear of his enemies, but maybe I will have a few days of reprieve this time before he locates me like he always does.

My father has friends everywhere—the criminal world, the stock market, the entertainment business, politics. Sadly, that means he also has enemies everywhere, men who want nothing more than to bring him down or replace him. Loads of them. I’m never allowed to forget that. Ever since Miles died, he’s paranoid that the accident was orchestrated by a rival organization and it could happen again at any time which is why he keeps all of us, his daughters and wife, under a close watch. He always needs to know our location. I’m the only one who actively rebels against that. My sisters seem to be okay with most of it as long as they have their credit cards and drivers at their disposal.

As soon as I got to Penticton, after twenty-four miserable hours in buses and at bus stations, I found a cheap motel near the highway because I wanted to pay with cash and I don’t have much. I’m beginning to realize how that might not have been the smartest choice. The heater works only anemically and the linen is anything but clean. Stains and hairs of various lengths still linger on the pillowcase and under the blanket—some of them look like they could be pubic. Yikes. There’s no way I’m getting under that blanket.

The lady at the desk asked all kinds of random questions while I was checking in a few hours ago, like if I had a husband and children and where I went to college. For a moment, I got the impression she was trying to stall me but then she finally gave me the key and lost interest.

Maybe I’m a little bit more paranoid than usual.

Whatever. Even a dingy motel beats spending one more Christmas day with my family, surrounded by security and household staff, the constant presence of which makes it impossible to ever have a real conversation. Even worse, my control freak of a father barks out orders to employees and family members alike, giving instructions, supervising our every move.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve said that I want a normal life away from my father’s insanity. One that doesn’t involve security cameras and bodyguards and chauffeurs—most importantly one that doesn’t involve me living with my parents during my senior year in college. I’m fucking twenty-one years old already. Everyone must view me as a sheltered freak even if they don’t dare mention it to my face.

My skin feels prickly as I’m snapped out of my self-pitying thoughts by a knock on the door. It’s gentle enough that I wonder if I just imagined it, but then quickly comes a second knock, a little bit more insistent than the first.

“Who is it?” I say, looking through the peephole. All I can see is a… Christmas tree?

No reply. I guess Christmas trees aren’t big on conversation.

“What the hell?” I mutter as I open the door just a smidge. A second later, I yelp in shock and try to close the door shut when a man emerges from behind the green plastic tree.

Tanner Hayes.

“Did you really think it wouldn’t be me? Santa knows who’s naughty and nice,” he says, lodging his big boot between the door and the door frame before he pushes it wide open, flinging me backward in the process.

My mind goes numb with thoughts of fleeing. I shouldn’t be stunned. Tanner is a curse I can’t shake, not for years, but I am at a loss as to how he could find me so fast.

Tanner paces around the room, putting the Christmas tree down by the bed. It’s a huge, fake tree, complete with cheap ornaments and lights that start blinking when he finally plugs them in after struggling to locate an electrical socket.

“Kind of brings a little of the season into this shit hole,” he mutters.

I stare at him silently, unable to understand what the fuck is happening. I don’t get it. How in hell did he find me? Yes, my father’s security team is sharp and fast but for the life of me I don’t see how Tanner even figured out I fled, let alone how he located me and drove up here. Did he take a helicopter? A plane? There’s something not adding up.

He suddenly turns to me with a smug look on his face. I hate him and yet I can’t stop noticing his bulging muscles. Tanner is one of nature’s most successful experiments as far as integrating a breathtaking physique with cocky coolness. I never tire of composing a quick list of all his attributes in my head—tall and spectacularly ripped and poised with a closely cropped crew cut that accentuates his angular features.

He oozes sensuality and confidence. He can grab control of any situation. Too bad he’s arrogant, not to mention my father’s right hand. I can’t even count the times he has saved the great Jordan Kane’s ass.

“What’s your plan about the cockroaches?” he says after an interlude of silent staring as he assesses the miserable room.

“Cockroaches?” I cringe a little at the idea. “They’ve probably all frozen to death in here.”

“Yeah, you’d like to think that, wouldn’t you? This room would be warm to many people in the world,” he says and then leisurely extends his leg to crush something with his boot.

It takes me a while to determine the squishy sound was him stepping on a cockroach.

OMG, this is so disgusting. I’ve had it with him and his cold, controlling, manipulative ways. “I’m an adult, Tanner. Go the fuck back to Los Angeles. You can’t make me do anything against my will. This is Canada. I won’t cross at the border and I won’t get on a plane.”

The staring competition begins once again until a grin forms on his lips. “I think I can make you do anything I want,” he says, as cool as ice.

His nonchalance disturbs me a little. It always has. I better strike back fast before he takes over completely. “I get it. Little Tanner is afraid my father will be mad if he goes back empty-handed,” I say in a mocking voice. “Do you want to be a good boy for him? Just pretend you didn’t find me, because I’m not going.”

He takes a step closer and grabs my wrist, forcing me to take a few steps backward to the couch. “Sit,” he says, pushing me down. “You and I are going to have a little chat.”

I’m thrown off my game like by a lot. No matter how menacing or even lethal Tanner can be, he’s never laid a finger on me for years. Not since the little incident when I was nineteen. Since then he’s always handled me with care and a distant reverence, almost as if I could break if he touched me.

He leans over me until his face is barely an inch away from mine. “Your little rebellion comes to an end. It’s not as simple as you think. If I can find you, then others can find you, too. If Jordan Kane’s daughter runs off from his protection, eventually the wrong people will show up at your doorstep.”

“Huh! Isn’t that what just happened? The wrong guy showing up at my doorstep?” I say. “Tanner, I should think by now you know me better than that. I grew up in this world. You can’t scare me so easily.”

“If your father sends his other men or if his enemies come for you one day, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

“Who asked for your guarantees? You’re so deluded thinking I am only safe under your protection. Christ complex much?”

“Your father’s other men are not so careful. They take chances. I do not. How about we stop wasting time and you do exactly as I say? Sound doable?”

“No, I am not doing anything with you,” I say, glaring at him.

He takes hold of my arm and squeezes it.

“You fucking asshole,” I say, trying not to show discomfort. “My father won’t tolerate you manhandling me.”

He chuckles. “Oh yeah? He’d do far worse if he could get his hands on you right now. You’ve been a thorn in his side ever since I’ve known you.”

Three years. That’s how long he’s known me. Apparently that’s how long he’s thought of me as a problem. Not the most flattering way to think of a woman. I don’t give a shit what he thinks.

Tanner sighs, letting go of my arm to sit on the couch next to me. “Listen, Tris. Do you really understand who you are? There are limitations. You can’t just run off. People care about you.”

I think I prefer his brutish side. The cozy animosity of our combative relationship has become strangely comfortable. This fake concern bothers the shit out of me.

“Why you exactly?” I say, trying to return us to a contentious track so this strange proximity will mutate back into a welcome hostility.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re the head of my father’s sizable security team. The days you were supposed to be my personal bodyguard are long gone. Why does it have to be you that comes after me every fucking time? I know you’re sick of me. You just admitted it.”

He licks his lips and then forms a sly grin. “Nobody else wants the job.”

Yeah, right. I bet he gets a sick pleasure out of my defeat every time. It must feel awesome to resolve the
problem
girl
issue for my father, to bring me to my knees, to keep me weak and resigned.

That’s the nature of his unique profession. He makes all the unsightly problems disappear for whoever is the highest bidder.

*