BAD BOY ROMANCE: DIESEL: Contemporary Bad Boy Biker MC Romance (Box Set) (New Adult Sports Romance Short Stories Boxset) (44 page)

Namir thanked the driver when he set his bags on the ground, and gave him a folded five dollar bill.  It was Namir’s last bit of cash money. 

“I would have tipped him!”  Jason insisted. 

Namir shrugged.  “It’s ok.  They were my bags.” 

Jason pulled a wad of money from his pants pocket, and shoved it into Namir’s hand.  “Here you go, one week in advance.”

Namir looked at the money with wide dark eyes.  Jason hadn’t even bothered to count the bills.

The two men walked into the house, and Namir was struck with how open and airy it was.  Two ceiling fans whirled in the massive living room that seemed connected to the dining area and kitchen.  Huge glass doors lined the far wall and were open to the salt air beyond. 

“My my….”  A woman with obviously dyed red hair said as she glided into the room.  Her face was completely smooth and had the stretched look of someone who had been under the knife several times.  Nonetheless she was attractive. 

“Yip.”  Jason whispered, then plastered the fakest smile on his face that Namir had ever seen.  “Namir Stone, this is Constantine Givens.  She’s Taylor’s mother.” 

Constantine lifted her manicured hand and held it out to Namir.  He shook it gently. 

“And where did Jason find you?”  She asked, seating herself gracefully in one of the white wicker padded chairs, crossing her legs and supporting her head, all in one movement. 

“I…”

“He worked for a temp agency as a security guard.”  Jason interrupted. 

Namir noticed that Jason bee-lined to the bar and made himself a drink.  He wondered how big a problem this man’s drinking would be. 

A lithe young woman with tawny hair and light colored eyes drifted into the room.  Her thin body was wrapped in a thin pink covering over a bathing suit, a large beach bag was on her shoulder.  She stopped mid stride and glared at Namir. 

“Who is this?”

“Your new body guard, sweetie.”  Jason said and raised the glass tumbler like a toast.  A small splash of amber liquid hit the floor. 

No one spoke for a moment.  The woman, Constantine, had a smirk on her pouty red lips, her eyes moving from Taylor to Namir with interest. 

Taylor looked Namir up and down.  “I don’t need a body guard.”  She started walking towards the open glass doors.  “Get rid of him.”

“You need a body guard, Taylor, until this…problem…stops.” 

“Problem?”  Namir asked, looking from one person to another for explanation. 

“Exuberant fan.”  Constantine whispered.  She raised her voice, tilting her chin towards her daughter.  “My goodness, look at him, Taylor!  He’s simply delicious!  That alone is worth it, don’t you think?”  She slid her eyes back to Namir, and he was sure she was attempting to undress him with her eyes.  It was the most uncomfortable feeling he had ever had, and he had been in some questionable situations. 

Taylor twisted her mouth and took a few steps towards him.  He noticed that her eyes were an odd shade of gray.  She had a presence that made him uncomfortable. 

“What’s your name?”

“He’s…”  Jason began.

“I asked him!”  Taylor’s words silenced Jason.  He tipped his glass to his lips instead. 

“Namir Stone.” 

“Namir?  What kind of name is that?  Are you foreign or something?”

“It’s Israeli.  My mother’s from there.” 

“Exotic.”  Constantine murmured from the background. 

Taylor narrowed her eyes.  “What’s your father?  Egyptian?”  It was meant to be a jab, and she didn’t expect Namir’s blunt answer. 

“He’s dead.” 

Taylor relaxed her face and posture.  “Sorry.”  She knew all too well what that felt like. 

“He was Irish-American if you want to know his origins.” 

Taylor ignored his comment and turned to Jason.  “I don’t want a bodyguard snooping around in my life!  Get rid of him.”  She said with finality and walked out if the house.  Once her feet hit the sand, she slid large sunglasses on her face.

Jason hooked his thumb in Taylor’s direction.  “Better get to work, big boy.  You are now on the clock.” 

Namir tried to stay inconspicuously in the shade while keeping an eye on his charge.  She didn’t make it easy for him.  Taylor meandered up and down her private beach for an hour.  She looked for shells, she kicked at the sand, and finally walked past Namir and went back into the beach house.  He could tell she was testing if this were for real. 

“That went well.”  Jason said as he walked in. 

“How so?”

“She didn’t scream once.  Now she’s safely in her room, plotting her next tantrum, or silly request, I’m sure.”

Constantine tossed yet another magazine onto the floor and stood.  “You really are a jerk about my baby!”  With all the dramatic flair she could muster, Constantine marched from the room. 

“That was for your benefit.”  Jason said with a yawn.  “Normally she doesn’t give two hoots about Taylor, other than how much money she’s bringing in.” 

Namir grunted.  “She supports her Mom then?”

“Not really.  Constantine has her own money for sure…lots of it.  The bigger the job the better the location.  Taylor is Constantine’s excuse for the jet set lifestyle.” 

“Why doesn’t she just do her own thing?”

Jason smirked and shook his head.  “You have a lot to learn about the wealthy.” 

Namir didn’t understand, and he didn’t want to understand.  He walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Snapple.  Pink Lemonade, his favorite.

“I think you better go into a little more detail about this problem fan.”

Jason scratched his head.  “At first it was letters.  As time went on they became more and more bizarre.  Then she started getting text messages…to her personal phone.” 

“What did the text messages say?”

“Oh, the standard: “You’re a bitch”, “You’re trash and should just kill yourself”.  Stuff like that.”  Jason shifted his weight and crossed one leg over the other.  “I had her number changed, and it stopped for a while.  Then she received another text the day before I hired you.” 

Namir frowned.  “How do you know it’s the same person?”

Jason laughed.  “We don’t.  That’s the problem; but I think it is.”

“Has anyone approached her, or broken into her house or anything?”

“A limo we had rented was vandalized, but that could be coincidence.” 

Namir could tell Jason was losing interest in the conversation.  He uncrossed his legs with a loud yawn.            

“Oh, by the way,” Jason said as he stretched out on the couch.  “We’re flying out of here later this evening.” 

Namir looked at his bags, still sitting on the floor where he left them.  There was no need to unpack now. 

Namir was hardened combat veteran.  He had served three tours in the Middle East.  He had ridden in Black Hawk’s while things zinged through the air intent on bringing them back to the ground.  He wished with all his might that he was back there on one of those combat helicopters than in the pristine Leer jet he found himself in, listening to Taylor and her mother argue.  Just their two voices alone sounded like a gaggle of geese.  His eyes darted back and forth between the two.  Jason was asleep as soon as the jet took off.  No doubt it was his only escape. 

“I will not do a shoot for that magazine, Mom!” 

Constantine fretted with her hands.  “I did!  It’s just the exposure you need to stay fresh in the public!”

“So?  Who cares if you did?”  Taylor said, crossing her arms.  “And I am in the public eye!” 

“For now.”  Her mother snapped.  “Do you think you’re good looks will last?  You’ve already refused your first Botox treatments.”

“I’m twenty years old!  I don’t need Botox!”

“I’ll call Hugh and make all the necessary arrangements.”

Taylor’s face took on a feral expression, her lips pulling back from her teeth.  “No…you…won’t.”

Constantine raised her voice.  “You don’t have a choice in this, Taylor!  It’s for your own good!” 

Namir had heard enough.  “If she doesn’t want to do it, she doesn’t have to.” 

Both women looked at him sharply. 

“What?” 

“What’s it for?  What magazine?”

Taylor blinked.  “Playboy.”  She said quietly. 

Namir gave Constantine a scorching look.  “So, you want to peddle your own daughter, huh?  That type of magazine…what I’m saying is…”  He could feel heat rising in his cheeks.  “She should decide if she wants to be in those types of pictures.”

Taylor felt a smile tugging at her lips.  She looked at her mother smugly and raised one eyebrow. 

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”  Constantine said in disbelief.  She reached across the aisle and smacked Jason on the knee.  He jumped and nearly fell to the floor.

“What was that for?” 

Constantine pointed at Namir with a long blood red fingernail.  “The body guard thinks he can call the shots now!” 

Namir scowled, leaning forward in his seat.  “If she’s having a problem with an excessive fan, do you really think showing her tits to the world will help?”

Constantine stared at him with her mouth open, and Jason laughed out loud.  Taylor relaxed against her seat and offered him the first real smile she had given anyone in a long time. 

Taylor and Constantine’s home in the Hamptons was a surprise for Namir.  He thought the excessive women would own a thirty room mansion, but instead it was a rather humble house sitting on four acres of manicured lawn in front of a horse shoe ring of tall trees.  He noted with a frown that the driveway and exposed perimeter of the property did not have a fence or gate.  A single light burned on the porch for exterior lighting. 

Namir walked up to the front porch, a wraparound number that had several rocking chairs and a swing, and set his bags down.  He felt uneasy since Jason had said his goodbyes at the airport and headed home, happily telling anyone that would listen that he was taking a week’s vacation.  Constantine had whispered that he always said that, and usually showed up on their doorstep two days later, bored with his wife and family. 

Taylor unlocked the front door and quickly pushed buttons on the alarm keypad.  A single light was lit in the living room.  Namir inspected the keypad, satisfied with the name brand and capabilities. 

“Oh, Taylor, I wasn’t expecting you so soon!”  An older woman in her mid-fifties said as she rushed towards them.  She glanced curiously at Namir before turning her attention back to Taylor.  “Is the driver bringing the bags in?”

Taylor yawned and touched the woman gently on the arm.  “Yes, he is, and  I’m going to bed.” 

The woman nodded and watched silently as Constantine followed her daughter up the stairs. 

“Greta, draw me a bath, please.”  Constantine yelled, when she reached the top of the stairs.

Greta looked at Namir, her small wiry frame straightened as she attempted a severe expression. 

“Young man, I have no idea where Taylor picked you up at, but…”

“I’m the new bodyguard.”  Namir said bluntly, his face void of emotion. 

Greta blinked.  “Oh.  Well, good!  It’s about time.” 

They stood looking at each other for a few moments.  Namir scanned the small foyer and saw that it led directly into a large living room to the right and a dining room to the left. 

“How many bedrooms are in this house?”

“Five bedrooms with four and a half baths.  Will you be staying here then?”

“That’s what I was told.” 

“We do have a two room pool house that’s meant for guests.  Would you like to stay there?”  Greta had no preparation and was at a loss as to what to do with the handsome young man. 

“No, I better stay in the same house with Taylor for now.”

“Let me show you to one of the guest rooms.”  Greta led him up the staircase that made a sharp turn to the left half way up.  The top floor was fairly straightforward.  The staircase ended towards the left side of the house.  The hallway doubled back over the original staircase, so one standing by the banister could actually see down the first portion of stairs and see the front door.  He counted three doors on the left side, and three on the right past the banister.  There was a room at the very end of the hallway that had double French doors. 

“Taylor’s room?” 

Greta’s lips thinned.  “Constantine’s suite.”  The force of her words pushing through her teeth left no question as to what she thought of Constantine.  As if on cue, Constantine’s voice drifted through her doors asking Greta to please come and fix her bath.  Greta grimaced so slightly, Namir wasn’t sure he had seen it.  She led him back towards the banister and opened a door.  She flipped the light switch and Namir found himself in a large bedroom with a four poster bed with a navy blue comforter that matched the drapes and comforter.  There was a bedside table with reading lamp and a chest of drawers.

“You have your own bathroom.  Linen closet is at the top of the stairs.  I’ll bring you fresh towels after I deal with Constantine.”