Protect Me (3 page)

Abbi shot him a smug look; ok two can play this game. “I tell you what Mr. Dirty.” She annunciated the name clearly. “I’ll take a shot with you, but ladies choice.”

“Ah-ight’, pick your poison.”

“We will be shooting whiskey. I hope you wore your big boy pants.” Abbi could see the smirk on his face as she turned to make her way back to the bar.  As she walked out of the velvet ropes she could feel eyes burning into the backs of her legs.  Stopping she turned around to meet the dark eyes of one of the body guards, who had a grin on his face that was quickly turning into a laugh. What the hell was his problem? She narrowed her eyes to him. Who knows maybe he thought her tight shorts were cutting off the oxygen to her brain, even she had to admit that she did look like a fool back there. Not that it was any of his concern though. Turning back she marched towards the front bar.

“Hey Judy I need a bottle of whiskey and some shot glasses!” Abbi yelled over the bar.

“They done drove you to drinking already haven’t they?”

“Ha! The rapper is actually pretty cool; his stuck up body guards however, are something else.”

Damn this phone if it didn’t stop ringing.  Slamming the weight on his bicep machine down in frustration, Ryan made his way over to the other side of the weight room.  Seeing Jace, his number two’s name on the screen, he knew it would be work related; grudgingly he pressed the answer button.

“Dixon.” Ryan said trying to hold back his frustration.

“Hey boss man, I just got off the phone with Aaron.  Looks like somehow he got double booked tonight.  He flew out this morning for a gig down state, but apparently there was a detail here in town with, uh, hold on what was his name? Yeah he goes by Dirty Deuce; some rapper that hired two bodies to escort him to a new nightclub in downtown LA.  How do you want me to handle it?”

Ryan knew off the top of his head that he didn’t have anyone else available for the night.  All of his other local agents had been sent out for other personal protection jobs.

“Call his manager and tell him it’s covered, and emphasize that it won’t happen again.”  Not able to hide the irritation in his voice now.  “Also text me the address of pick up, and email me his detailed information.  Guess I’ll be dusting off my suit. Again.”

“Ten-four Sir.  I will get you the information now.”

Ryan ended the call and plopped down on the bench.  Looking up into the mirrored wall in front of him he wrung the towel through his hands.  Damn he was getting too old to be covering for these guys.  This was twice in the last month that one of his agents had been double booked.  He didn’t mind taking on a job every once in a while, but since he had come out of the sand box called Afghanistan, he preferred the CEO roll of his company more than the hands on one.

Ryan Dixon had served in the Military for fifteen years, a Silver Star recipient Army Ranger, before an injury while serving a tour overseas forced him into an early retirement.  He had taken advantage of the education the government had provided, getting a bachelor’s degree in homeland security and going on to get a Master’s in business.  Once he had transitioned into the civilian sector, he uprooted from his home in South Carolina and traveled to Los Angeles in hopes of starting his own company. It hadn’t proved to be an easy task, but taking on a challenge was a part of Ryan’s demeanor. Over the past five years his personal protection services company had taken off, and he now operated a Multi-Million dollar company based out of his Los Angeles office.  Though as tonight proved, he didn’t get to where he was without getting his hands dirty.

When he had first opened his office, they operated in one of the suites of a small office building. His company consisted of a receptionist desk and three offices. Jace had been a longtime friend he had served with overseas, who got out of the military a few years before Ryan. He was who originally turned Ryan on to the idea of a bodyguard service. They both had the security background and Ryan had a very large savings that he had accrued over the years. He threw everything he had into the company and prayed it would pull through in the end. And it had. By chance he was offered a job for a high profile recording artist, when the original security detail that was booked fell through. The rest was history. Their main offices now took up the fifty-fourth floor of a large gray stone skyscraper in the financial district. They also had offices in Miami as well as New York and were now expanding outside of the United States.

He made his way out of the gym and down the hallway to his bedroom. Throwing the towel in the hamper he heard the ping from his phone that meant he had gotten the information he needed on the client.  Starting towards the bathroom, he brought the information up and started reading while he twisted the large copper handle of the shower. Testing the water with one hand as he scanned through the text.  This looked like it was going to be a routine night. He would be working with Troy one of his best agents, a former Marine, who approached the job as all business, though at times he had been known to drop a joke. He stood over six feet tall and looked like a brick wall. At times he felt as though Troy was waiting for an attack, nervously scanning the room and always waiting for a few seconds before taking the client any further. Ryan knew how it was though, having spent copious amounts of time in a war zone himself. Some nervous ticks became unrecognized habits and they weren’t anything that anyone wanted to talk about.

After showering he walked into the closet just outside of the bathroom door. There were two huge walk in closets on either side of the room. Ryan’s closet was neatly hung with a variety of suits mostly in black and grey. His dress and tennis shoes lined shelves that took up the first half of the wall to the right. Then there were drawers set back into the rest of the wall that contained the necessities, and at the end an assortment of ties draped across small metal arms that protruded from the wall. The farthest half of the left wall held drawers filled with his gym clothes.  This was a complete difference to the closet that sat empty on the opposite side of his large four poster bed. When he first bought the house Ryan had played around with the idea of turning that additional space into storage for his collection of guns and ammo, though he always found himself pushing it off.

The master bedroom was spacious. On the wall to the left of the closet there stood a large cedar chest of drawers. Atop it sat an elaborate mirror outlined in scrolling black steel, facing towards the bed and the wall of windows directly across from it. Ryan’s bed was made of the same cedar, with matching side tables. Symmetrically placed lamps sat on top of both. A brown leather chaise lounge tucked back into the corner next to the window. Heavy white canvas curtains with dark metal eyelets draped down each side of the oversized windows, pulled back with thick curtain ties to showcase the stunning view of the LA skyline. Lights from the buildings and traffic from the city twinkled from one end of the window to the other, bouncing off the cream colored walls.

Wandering his way around the closet, Ryan took the towel from his waist and threw it into the hamper. He pulled on some boxers and socks before putting on a plain black t-shirt and then grabbing his body armor. Some agents preferred not to wear it because it made them look bulky, however Ryan didn’t joke around about safety. He had been shot at enough times. Made of a highly durable Kevlar, his vest was very breathable and it was practically invisible under his suit. He chose a solid black dress shirt to go with his charcoal gray suit. Sliding on his black dress shoes and finishing off with a black tie.

After reading through the detailed information on Reginald Johnson aka Dirty Deuce, originally from Houston Texas, who would probably be in the NBA right now if he hadn’t had a knee injury resulting in the loss of his scholarship, Ryan headed downstairs. He went through the foyer into a hallway on the right leading to the staff quarters and the garage entrance. He grabbed his keys that hung inside a small cabinet to the left of the door leading out. He hopped into his black Toyota 4Runner and headed towards his office to collect Troy.

After trading in his vehicle for one of the company’s Land Rovers, he met up with Troy and together they went to collect the individuals in their party for the evening. As they walked up to the club Ryan adjusted his earpiece. Scanning the line that drew out of the building and down the block, nothing looked out of place. It all seemed the norm for most of the night scene here in LA.

“Troy you copy?” Ryan asked, testing his mic.

“Ten-four Sir.”

“Cover the rear. I will be up front. The VIP Lounge is in the back of the club.”

“Roger that.”

Ryan made his way into the door past the large bouncer dressed in all black. Curse words aimed in his direction from the line of people who had been waiting too long to get into the club. As Ryan made it a few steps into the door he was greeted by a man in a white dress shirt and slacks. Ryan sized him up as the man walked over to him smiling.
Pretty Boy
.

“Good evening sir, I am Trent Williams” extending his hand “owner of the club. I will be showing you back to the lounge.”

Ryan took his hand with a firm grip “Roger that sir, lead the way.” He watched as Trent retrieved his hand, flexing it back out.

The club was packed with bodies grinding into one another, grasping their drinks in their hands, as the blue and purple lights swirled around the walls.  The smell of stale alcohol and sweat wafting through the air hit you hard as you made your way through the crowd. As Ryan approached the booths in the lounge, he turned to confirm his party had made it without problem. With a nod from Troy who was standing at the rear of the party, he ushered them towards the roped off area in the back.  As he got closer, he saw the sexiest set of legs he had ever laid eyes on come walking from the back corner of the booths.

As she introduced herself to the rapper she seemed to fight for the right words to say. She was obviously nervous about his notoriety, but most people from this area were used to seeing and being around people with some sort of fame. Ryan glanced at Troy with a grin, they both found it humorous that she had referred to him as Mr. Dirty. He wasn’t sure why but something immediately intrigued him about this girl. He wanted to know her story, her past. How she liked her eggs and what she did for fun.

It wasn’t very often that a woman caught his eye quite like that. Actually no woman had ever made him think those things. Sure he’d had his fair share of hook ups. Nameless one night stands. Obviously tail wasn’t too hard to come by when you wore a suit and tie and had an endless bank account. Most women knew his face when he was out on the town, but none of those women were ones he had ever wanted to pursue. He really didn’t wish to pursue anyone into a long term relationship. He made that very clear when anyone approached him and none of the women he had been with had asked for anything different. However this girl, who was stumbling over her words and fidgeting, seemed intriguing. She was different.

Her tan legs seemed to stretch towards the sky as he scanned up and down her body. Her supple backside was well proportioned with the rest of her body. Her hair was long and wavy, soaked in the color of chocolate. And even more intriguing was the handles of two pistols tattooed in black ink peeking out from the top of her short black shorts. He found himself practically staring as she made a sarcastic exchange with the rapper. Quickly he turned his head back toward the crowd as she made her way out the ropes.

As she headed back up to the bar in front he couldn’t help but enjoy the view.  Just as she had made a few steps away from him she turned around and he made contact with a pair of sharp brown eyes. Brown eyes that didn’t look too pleased that he was laughing at her tenacity with the rapper. This girl was a spit fire. As she turned on her heel he took a second to regain his composure.

Quietly Troy leaned over towards Ryan’s ear “Looks like they got a feisty one.” He said grinning.

Ryan just answered with a nod.

His eyes followed the bartender into the crowd towards the front bar. He wondered again what her story was. Most of the women in this town threw themselves at the opportunity to rub elbows with the rich and famous. And yet, here was a woman who was actually putting the “so called” celebrity in his place. Was it true that there were still women out there unaffected by fame and wealth? Highly unlikely.

He caught her eyes again as she made her way back through the crowd holding four shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

“Allow me ma’am.” He smiled as he reached for the clip on the velvet rope

“Thanks.” She smiled back but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Holding the rope open he found his hand gravitating to the small of her back, leading her into the private area. He saw her eyes flash back towards him. Man, if looks could kill he would be dead on the floor right now. Usually his All-American smile could knock the chip off anyone’s shoulder, but this one looked like she was going to be a bit of a challenge. Luckily he had all night. He found it hard to wipe the smirk off of his face as he opened the area for the two new members of the party and their escorts.

*****

Walking back through the crowd of people she was met at the entrance to the booth area by a handsome smile.
Shake it
off girl, no sense in getting your heart wrapped up over a pretty smile.
As she made her way into the private area, she felt his hand find the small of her back. Flames spread across her skin at his touch. Narrowing her eyes she glanced back towards him.
Who the hell do you think you are putting your hands on a stranger?
His smile faded slightly as she cut him with her eyes.

Making her way back to the table she found that her original party of three had grown. There were now two other men with arm candy themselves. All of the men dressed in the same style baggy shirts with graphics on the front. Chains dangling from their necks, pants that could honestly use a belt, and shoes that matched the color of their hats.