Dirty Detail: Sexy Bodyguard Romance (Down N' Dirty in Love Book 3) Page 2

  Our desks are in the same office. As owners of the security firm we could probably spring for separate offices—corner offices, even—but truth is, we’re rarely in the office. And when we are, we need to be on the same page and making decisions together.

  Right now, for example, we’re supposed to be looking over the roster of new hires, examining their performances to see who stays and who goes. Instead? I’m staring at my phone and Alex is anxiously waiting to hear the response.

  “Nothing,” I say.

  It’s been two weeks and still nothing from Maya. This is ridiculous. We should be letting it go already. She’s not ours anymore, not in any sense of the word. She’s not our client, she’s not our assignment, and she’s made it abundantly clear that she’d not our lover, or our girlfriend, or any of the other dreams we’ve been harboring.

  “I told you it was a mistake,” Alex says. He rubs his temples. “Sorry. I know, I know. I’m just as much to blame.”

  I scowl at him. I don’t have the energy to agree or disagree. Honestly, we’ve been over this so many times it makes no difference. Finally, I admit the truth. “You weren’t the only one acting rash. If you hadn’t made the first move, I would have.”

  We’ve relived that night so many times, none of this is worth repeating. We are both to blame. We’d both been crushing on Maya since day one and it had been through sheer force of will that we’d managed to keep some professional distance. But that night…oh shit, that night. It was our last night on her detail and she’d been so damn tempting.

  Saying no was never even an option.

  And it had been our last night, we haven’t seen her as a client since then. But then again, we haven’t heard from her at all since then either. She’s gone radio silent, not responding to our phone calls or texts. We’ve even done a couple drive-bys just to make sure she’s okay.

  Our assignment may have ended but that doesn’t mean her stalker gave his notice too.

  We’ve seen her car in the driveway of her small one-story house, we’ve spotted her coming and going. She’s safe, and that’s really all that matters.

  But try telling that to my pride. Or Alex’s, for that matter.

  “Why the hell is she ignoring us?” Alex asks, as if I suddenly know the answer. I don’t, obviously. I have no idea. I hate the idea that it’s because we drove her away with our rash actions that night. Maybe it had been too much too soon…

  But then again, she’d been into it. Hell, she’d instigated it.

  The buzzer on my desks goes off and I press the button so Gloria, our assistant, can speak to us both. “Rodham’s here to see you.”

  I share a frown of concern with Alex before telling her to send him in. Rodham is one of the producers for Singing Sensations and was the one to bring us in as an extra security measure when Maya started receiving messages from her stalker.

  Our contract had only been through the end of the show, and while we’d tried to get him to extend it because we were worried about Maya—still are, in fact—he’d told us in no uncertain terms that the production company had no say over the matter once her contract with them ended.

  He said he’d try to talk her into keeping us on, but he had no authority.

  How hard he’d tried to convince her was impossible to know, but all that mattered was it hadn’t worked.

  She’s out there on her own with no protection, as far as we could tell, while some weirdo with a serious infatuation was probably watching her and possibly still scaring the crap out of her.

  Alex and I have no time to question what he might be doing here before he struts into our office and drops down into one of the overstuffed guest chairs as if this is his home. His thick silver mustache twitches slightly as he flashes us one of his charismatic grins. “Hey fellas, how’s it hanging?”

  Rodham is one of those characters who talks like he’s in an old-timey movie or something. Normally Alex and I would be fine sitting here shooting the shit with this guy—he’s a good sort with a wicked sense of humor—but right now? We’re not in the mood.

  “What’s up?” Alex asks.

  “Is Maya all right?” I add.

  Alex and I have never been the type to beat around the bush. We met in police academy and became fast friends. After a few years on the force we realized those kinds of rules and regulations weren’t for us. We love to protect people but we’re not exactly rule followers by nature. So we struck out on our own and started this security firm. We train and supply personal bodyguards, and in some high-profile cases like Maya’s, we’re the bodyguards ourselves.

  Maya hasn’t been far from our minds since that night—that epic, insane, life changing nights—so it’s hard to tell if I’m being paranoid or just obsessive. Either way, my gut is telling me that something is wrong with our girl.

  That’s right, our girl. She might not know it but Alex and I aren’t going to stop until she gives us a chance. She’s ours, whether she realizes it or not. I’m not a romantic sort but I know when it’s the real deal. And that connection we had with Maya?

  That was it.

  Rodham scratches the back of his head with a grimace. “Yeah, about the girl…”

  The girl. I hate that he calls her that, like she’s one of a dozen. I bite my tongue, though. Now is not the time to fight that battle.

  “Is she hurt?” I ask.

  “Is that stalker back?” Alex adds. He’s leaning over the desk, not even trying to hide his concern.

  “As far as I know he never left,” Rodham says.

  At our glares, he throws his hands up defensively. “Look, if it were up to me the girl would never have dropped the security detail, but what can I do? Once her contract is up, it’s her life.”

  I barely resist the urge to roll my eyes at the unspoken innuendo that when she’s on contract, her life isn’t hers. And in a way it’s not. We’d been on the set long enough to see what a tight ship they run. The contestants pretty much sell their souls when they sign on, even though most of them probably have no idea what it really entails. The crazy hours, the lack of privacy…the stalkers…

  Okay, maybe only one contestant had a stalker, but I knew for a fact she hadn’t signed up for that sort of fan. But for some reason Maya had been unwilling to talk to police, unwilling to take any action, really. If the producers hadn’t forced us on her, I doubt she would have done anything to protect herself.

  Rodham keeps talking and he sounds uneasy. It’s only then that I realize Alex and I are both staring. Glaring, actually. Neither of us looks weak and unassuming—we work out and train bodyguards on a daily basis. We’re not the kind of guys you’d want to run into in a dark alley and I’m guessing Rodham is thinking the same thing.

  His voice gets wary. “Maybe she thought the attention would stop since she didn’t win. I mean, she came in second, which is great and all, but second place doesn’t typically get a lot of attention, right?”

  I continue to glare. As far as I’m concerned, that show is rigged. Our girl was so much better than the guy that won. His success had been met with outrage as her new, loyal fans protested the win. I don’t typically follow that stuff but this is Maya we’re talking about.

  She didn’t protest or complain at all, as far as I could tell. She’d smiled graciously, gushed about how lucky she’d been to be a part of the experience, and walked off stage and out of our lives.

  But her fans had been crying foul for the last two weeks. She’d been the clear-cut favorite, better than all the others by a mile. Maybe the producers had wanted to spark a debate, maybe they’d wanted to make a splash and do something unpredictable.

  I don’t know and quite frankly I don’t care. What I do care about is Maya and her safety. I’d love to know how she was really holding up after not winning like everyone expected.

  Maybe I’d know if she’d ever answer any of my messages.

  I scowl down at my phone, even more irritated at the silent treatment she’s been giving us. Now mor
e than ever it feels like a special form of torture.

  “So what are you doing here?” Alex asks, ever the voice of diplomacy.

  Rodham doesn’t seem to mind the bluntness. “The powers that be are lining up a tour for the top five finalists. They’re all on board…” He gives a smirk that makes me want to smack him. “They have to be, I guess. They’re contractually obligated to be at the company’s beck and call for the next two years.”

  I glance over at Alex and he’s not even trying to hide his disgust. Neither of us were terribly impressed by the way this production company runs things. They were manipulating the show, the contestants and the fans from the very start.

  And now, it seems, they’re doing it again. My bet is they got everyone in an uproar over Maya’s unexpected loss to sell tickets when they bring her and the winner back on the road for this tour.

  God, I hate Hollywood.

  “And this affects us how?” I ask. I can guess, and I hope that I’m right, but there’s no way I’m going to let on to Rodham. He has no clue how we really feel about Maya and that’s the way we’ll keep it.

  No telling what kind of hell they’d drag us into if they caught wind of how much we care about our former assignment.

  “We want you back on her security detail.”

  I keep my face still despite the rush of adrenaline that makes me want to pound a fist on the desk in victory. I don’t dare risk a glance at Alex or one of us will give away some sort of tell.

  But really…this is it. The opening we’ve been hoping for. I know it’s a stupid pipedream but I ask anyways. “Did Maya request us back?”

  Rodham shakes his head, completely unaware of how much that head shake cuts us to the bone. “She doesn’t know we’re siccing security on her again. Honestly, she’s probably not going to be too pleased.” He winces but it’s not genuine. He clearly couldn’t care less what “the girl” wants or needs.

  But we do. And I fucking hate the fact that she might not want us. I clear my throat and give Alex a look to make sure we’re on the same page.

  After being friends for so long and going through so much, sometimes a look is all we need.

  “Look, Rodham, we’re grateful you want us back but we won’t do it unless she says it’s okay.”

  Before he can question me or protest at all, I continue. “We only work with willing clients. The only way we can assure an assignment’s protection is if there’s a level of trust there. If she doesn’t want us, we’ll help you find a better fit.”

  Rodham didn’t protest but his face was wrinkled up in confusion. “Why wouldn’t she want you? You guys did a good job, she said so herself.”

  “She did?” Alex spoke too quickly and I cut him a look.

  Jesus, we’re supposed to be the professionals in the room but we’re dangerously close to sounding like lovestruck teenagers.

  Which isn’t too far from the truth, actually. We’ve got a bad case of lust for Maya, and if it ended there that would be fine. Lust we can control. Unfortunately we also started to fall for her. It’s a danger in our line of work. I’ve seen it happen to other men.

  You get so close to your assignment, you start to feel like a part of their life. You get to know them in an intimate way, whether you intend to or not. And Alex and I are used to that. It’s not like Maya was our first sexy assignment. Far from it. We live in Los Angeles and our clientele regular includes models and actresses. Since we’re not bad looking, there’s been more than one occasion where temptation set in on both sides.

  But we’ve only acted on it once.

  Maya is different. She’s in a class all her own, as far as we’re concerned. Maya’s the first who’s intrigued us, fascinated us…she’s the first to go beyond skin deep and make us feel things, want things we were starting to think was never going to come along. She’s a sexy siren, yeah, but more than that, she’s a sweetheart through and through. We saw her when she was tired, when she was stressed, but she was always thoughtful. Always empathetic. The girl has a huge heart, the kind you want to claim for your own.

  Rodham shook his head and let out an exasperated sigh at our admittedly odd behavior. “Look, she’s not going to like having a security detail again, but there’s no way around it. I figure at least she’s used to you guys, right?”

  I hesitate, glancing down at my still silent phone. I know with absolute certainty that she’s not only going to hate having bodyguards, but that she’ll freak when she learns it’s us. Her silence has made it loud and clear that she wants nothing to do with us.

  But before I can say anything of the kind, Alex pipes in. “We’ll do it.”

  I cut him a look and he flashes me one of those cocky grins of his. He’s up to something and I have a good idea what. He wants to use this detail to win her over.

  I hold back a groan at the complete and utter lack of ethics involved in this plan. I try to catch his attention to give him a glare warning him off but he outright ignores me. “Do me a favor, man. Let me and Darren be the ones to tell her.”

  The older man’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline but there’s no suspicion in his eyes, just relief. He probably wasn’t eager to inform Maya that her privacy is about to be completely invaded for a second time.

  “Of course,” Rodham says, coming to stand and shake our hands. “Send the paperwork to our office and we’ll get it all sorted.”

  We say our goodbyes and watch him leave. I wait until the door clicks shut behind him before I whirl around to face my partner. “What the fuck, Alex?”

  The jackass actually tries to look innocent. “What’s the matter?”

  “What’s the matter?” I repeat far too loudly. “You know very well she won’t want us on her detail.”

  Alex is already back at his desk, shoving his keys in his pocket and turning off the desk light. “And if that’s the way she feels when we’re done talking to her, we’ll back out,” he says. “But at least we’ll have a chance to talk to her and see what’s going on with our girl.”

  I rub my eyes, weary suddenly at being the only grownup in the room. Granted, I hadn’t shown a whole lot of maturity when I’d gone along with fucking Maya, but I at least know how wrong it is to try and get her to love us by taking her on as an assignment again.

  This just reeks of all sorts of wrong.

  When I look up, Alex is holding out my car keys. “Come on, man. You heard Rodham. Maya’s still in danger.”

  The words send a jolt of adrenaline through me that makes my primal instincts kick in swift and fierce.

  Alex nods as though he can see my anger, and maybe he can in my eyes. “Exactly. Now in light of that, does our work code really mean anything at all?”

  I press my lips together, trying to be the ethical responsible one but seeing Alex’s point way too clearly. Bastard appealed straight to my overprotective side and now all I can think about is keeping Maya safe.

  And no one could keep her safer than us because no one would care more.

  I let out a long exhale and Alex grins. He already knows he’s won.

  “We’ll talk to her,” I say in my most reasonable tone. “But if she doesn’t want us, we’ll walk away.”

  Alex nods. “Of course.” He lifts one brow. “And if she does want us?”

  I inhale swiftly, my mind conjuring up an image of just what it would mean if she wants us. There’s no way we could resist. But I know what Alex is asking. He wants to know if I’d be on board with having an affair with a woman we’re being paid to protect.

  No. The answer is no. Or at least it should be. But I can’t lie to myself. If she wants us, there’s no way I can deny her. My will power just isn’t that strong. I meet Alex’s questioning look. “If she wants us…” I relent with a sigh. “Then she’ll be the exception.”

  Chapter Three

  Maya

  My heart jumps into my throat at the knock at the door. I stop scrubbing the kitchen counter and give myself a mental slap on the back of the head
for being such a ninny.

  It’s the middle of the day, for God’s sake. My stalker is not going to do something so stupid as walk up to my door and knock.

  Or would he?

  There’s the knock again. I drop the washcloth into the sink and peel off the rubber gloves I use when I’m doing a hard core scrub. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. I’d had to quit my waitressing job to be on the show—not that I’m complaining about ditching that dingy bar. But now the show was over and I was unemployed. I’d just started going on interviews when the producers hit me with news of a tour.

  On the upside, a tour would make me some money. Fun fact about reality TV competitions. You only win if you’re the winner. Since I came in second I walked away with a meager paycheck that barely covered my rent for the month.

  On the downside, a tour means I’ll be back in the spotlight again, for better or for worse. When the show ended and I came back to reality, I’d made the decision to give up on my dreams of being a professional singer. I’d gotten some flattering calls from producers and record labels but I’d told them all I’d think about it…which was really just my way of procrastinating on saying no.

  Why? So many reasons. My whole life I’ve dreamed of being rich and famous and for a little while there I got a taste of it, the good and the bad. The good was great. I mean, I had a suspicion that I’d like being on stage if I ever got the chance.

  But then I got the chance and Oh. My. God. It’s the best thing ever. Seriously. It’s like drugs and sex all rolled into one. It’s a rush of adrenaline and happy pheromones, which gives me a high like I’ve never known.

  But with any high comes a low. And man did I get the lows. Not just the low of leaving a crowd full of adoring fans for the loneliness of my little house, but all the other lows. The sting of criticism, the invasion of privacy…the creepers who won’t leave me alone.

  Okay, one creeper in particular, but there’ve been others too, to a lesser degree. I’ve had to scrub my presence on social media to avoid the trolls, and when I realized I was being tailed by paparazzi on the way to my four-year-old niece’s birthday party I’d had to skip the whole thing altogether.