Burn: A South Beach Bodyguards Book (3 page)

M
y mouth went dry. I took a good, hard look. I couldn’t help myself. She was not hiding a damn thing and there was a lot to hide. She was all curves and skin and private parts that were very publicly displayed for me. If she didn’t care, why should I, right? I hated myself for being like every other guy, but biology was a powerful thing.

But then she dropped a pepperoni on the vinyl floor and bent over to pick it up, turning just enough that I had a more direct view of her ass and the dip between her thighs. That was a view no man who wasn’t sharing a bed with her should ever see. I coughed and looked down at my shoes. I hadn’t even taken them off yet. Normally I was barefoot in thirty seconds upon entering the apartment. Nothing was as it should be though and I now had to figure out what I was going to do about it.

There weren’t a whole lot of coherent thoughts running through my head, and as for a plan, one was nonexistent. I was disgusted with myself for letting my gaze linger as long as it had on Isabel, and now I couldn’t unsee that view, blood coursing through my veins hot and thick, rushing straight down into my dick. No wonder I couldn’t process any thoughts. All my blood was down south creating the world’s most painful erection. It was like being fourteen and having a boner that had nowhere to go. There was no barn for this horse and I needed to get a fucking grip.

“Um, why are you naked?” I asked, staring resolutely at my work boots.

“It’s hot in here.”

“I can turn up the air conditioning. It’s not a big deal.”

“If you want. But I’m fine now.”

This was a joke. It had to be a joke. “Isabel,” I said painfully. “I’m trying to not be a dude here and molest you with my eyes, but you’re not making it easy. I really need you to put on your clothes.”

“I really need you to stop calling me Isabel.” Her voice wavered. “It’s freaking me out.”

Everything was freaking me out but I needed to take charge of this situation, once and for all. “I’ll stop calling you Isabel if you put your clothes back on. That’s my offer, take it or leave it.” I injected firmness into my voice, something that I was fairly certain she would respond to. Whatever the hell was going on at the moment, she had definitely struck me as someone who was a rule follower.

There was a brief silence then she said, “Fine.” I heard shuffling around.

“Are you dressed?”

“Yes.” Her voice was petulant.

I didn’t care. Looking up, I was reassured to see that while she still didn’t have pants, at least the shirt and panties were back in place. We’d have to work on the pants. Maybe I could offer her loose fitting shorts if she didn’t want to pour herself back into those skinny jeans. “Thank you.” I went for a piece of pizza and shoved half of it into my mouth, chewing hard, thinking even harder. Swallowing I eyed her. “Do you understand why you’re here?”

There was that momentary panic in her eyes again. “I… I don’t know. Because we…” She hesitated, her nose wrinkling.

“Because we what?” I asked warily.

“We like each other?” It was posed to me as a question.

One I didn’t know what to make of it. “Well. Yes. Sure. I mean, of course we like each other. But we don’t
like
each other, if you know what I’m saying.”

Her eyes widened. “You don’t like me?” Her lip started to tremble.

Ah, hell. “No, that’s not what I meant. Of course I like you. But we’re not naked friends. You need to keep your clothes on.” I almost called her Isabel but stopped myself in the nick of time.

“Why aren’t we naked friends?” She picked up a napkin from the stack the deliveryman had brought and wiped her mouth. “I don’t mind.”

If you wanted to get technical, I didn’t mind either, but I couldn’t do that. Isabel was not the kind of girl I could just hook up with and move on from. I wasn’t really a hit it and quit it kind of guy anyways, but when I did have sex, it was not with girls I might have to see at some family outing later on down the road, or girls who were as innocent as Isabel. Not that she was acting particularly innocent at the moment. But my usual type was strong, loud-mouthed women who got in my face and got pissed for no reason and threw all my clothes out onto the front lawn when we broke up. I didn’t date women who cried and I didn’t date women I would ever want to commit to long term or have as the mother of my future demon spawn.

Nope, I purposefully chose women that would never tempt me to fall in love and get married, because then you got hurt. You got your face ground down into the dirt. You were vulnerable and whipped and when you least expected it, she rolled out on you, like you were nothing, leaving you standing in the drive, beaten down. Not going to happen to me. Ever.

So Isabel could put her little come-hither face away because I wasn’t going there with her, not ever. She was too sweet, and apparently, seductive too, which was well and truly the most deadly combination ever.

“Because I respect you,” I said flatly. But I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out and wiping the corner of her mouth where some errant pizza sauce was stuck, then bringing my thumb to my lips to lick it off. “Now I’m going to get you some pants, then you’re going to try to remember what happened earlier today. Let’s start with when you woke up and what you did first.”

She eyed me, silently. I couldn’t gauge how she was feeling and since she didn’t leap to answer me about her movements for the day, I went into my bedroom and yanked open a drawer, pulling out some basketball shorts. I returned and handed them to her. She took them and put them on, but gave me a look that about froze my balls off. Icy. No other word for it.

What the hell did I deserve that for? You try to be a nice guy, and look what it got you. The silent treatment.

But at least she was covered up, if I ignored her nipples poking through the cotton of her shirt. And I was going to get answers, because this was not how I’d planned to spend my Tuesday night and it was time to get to the bottom of this, and I didn’t mean that as a sexual innuendo. “So you don’t remember anything? Is that why you’re not speaking?”

I reached for another piece of pizza and gave her a long look, trying to make it clear I meant business. This wasn’t a game.

She looked beyond me. “I’ve never been here, have I? Your apartment isn’t what I expected.”

That was not an explanation for jack shit. I was starting to get frustrated. “What did you expect?” I asked, then wasn’t sure why. What did I care what she thought my apartment would look like? And why would she have given any thought to my apartment anyway? I hadn’t given any thought to where she lived most of her life. Not once. Not because I was a dick, but because Isabel and I weren’t in the same world, no matter that my father and her mother had been naïve enough to tie the knot. I admit, I had given thought to her in the house in Coral Gables, but that had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with the fact that I was pissed at my dad for signing the house over without even discussing it or telling me.

I wasn’t ashamed of my apartment, because it was mine, all mine. Not bought with my father’s dirty money. If Isabel and her college taste didn’t like that, oh, well. It was what it was.

“I expected… I don’t know. Something more personal.” She handed me my beer and I took it absently. “This is a lonely apartment.”

Did Isabel feel sorry for me? I was both touched and annoyed. “My apartment is not lonely. It’s a crash pad. I like to decompress here. I work a lot of hours.”

“Is what you do dangerous?”

“Sometimes.”

“I worry about you.”

She was worried about me. That was freaking ironic as hell. “I’m a little worried about you, too, you know. I can’t figure out how you landed at the foot of the stairs with a bump on your head and you’re not helping me solve this particular mystery.”

Isabel touched her head like she had just remembered she had hit it. “Where is my purse?”

“I have no idea.”

“Where’s my phone?”

“I have no idea.”

“Where is my mom?”

“Don’t know that either.”

“What do you know?” she asked, and damn, she sounded cranky.

She wasn’t the only one feeling a bit irritated. “I know nothing, okay? A whole lot of fucking nothing.”

There was a knock on my apartment door. Isabel jerked and immediately positioned herself behind me. My protective instinct came out, strong. “It’s okay. You’re fine. Go into the bedroom and close and lock the door behind you.” I squeezed her hand to reassure her and nudged her towards the bedroom. Then I went to retrieve my gun.

Once I heard the door to the bedroom close behind Isabel, I moved to the front window and flattened myself against the wall, peering through the tiny space between the blinds and the window frame. I relaxed. I didn’t have a great view, but enough to see that it was Kim. Tucking my gun in my waistband I unlocked the door and quickly drew Kim into the apartment. She looked startled to be essentially dragged through the door, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I had no idea what the hell was actually going on, but my father was given me decent reason to be concerned that Isabel and Kim were in some kind of danger.

“Where’s Isabel?” she asked, putting her hand to her chest. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine.” I let go of her arm. “Except that she’s calling herself Julia and doesn’t seem to have a clue what happened.”

Kim frowned. “Julia? Who is Julia?”

“I have no idea.” That was my line of the hour. Kim was an older version of Isabel. She had dark hair and curves that she kept in shape with roller blading and swimming, according to my father. He had been proud to be with her, and as well he should have been. The years had been rough on Mickey, which didn’t bode well for me. Kim had definitely been the cuter one of the couple. Sort of like me with Isabel. My face had had too many fists slammed into it. There was no denying I was rough around the edges, a big tall guy with an ugly mug. Not that Isabel and I were ever going to be anything, because we weren’t, so why was I even thinking about how out of place I would be next to her beautiful face?

I wasn’t. Damn it.

“Where is she?”

“In the bedroom.”

The door actually swung open right then and Isabel came out. “Mom! Hi.”

“Are you okay?” Kim went over and hugged her. “I know the doctors said you’re fine, but Mickey has me worried sick.”

“Why?” Isabel gave her mother a puzzled look.

“Because you were assaulted.”

“I was?”

“Yes!” Kim shot me a look over her shoulder. “Isabel, honey, maybe you should lay down.”

“Why does everyone keep calling me Isabel? I’m really getting upset!” The panicked expression was back on Isabel’s face.

Kim’s eyes filled with tears and she looked bewildered. I didn’t blame her. I had no clue what was going on or how the hell to fix it. “Ryan,” she said, and the pleading in her voice kicked me in the gut. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out, Kim, I promise. Everything is going to be fine.”

She blinked and nodded, and squeezed Isabel’s hand. “It’s okay… Julia.” She looked like it pained her to say Julia but she forced it out. “There is no reason to get upset, baby. Let’s put you to bed for a nap.” She looked to me for permission. “Can I take her to your room?”

“Of course. I can sleep on the couch tonight. Hopefully by tomorrow we’ll have this all figured out.” I smiled at Isabel, in what I hoped was reassurance. “Don’t worry about not remembering how you fell. You don’t want to stress yourself out.”

She nodded. “Sure. Okay.” Then she turned and went back into my bedroom, closing the door behind her without another word to her mother.

Kim burst into tears. “What is going on? Why is she acting so strange?”

“I think it’s just the concussion.” It was weird, but now that I thought about it, it didn’t seem that off the mark for a blow to the head. She probably should have been in bed right from the minute they’d left the ER. “Don’t let my father scare you. Isabel isn’t in danger.” It was a lie. I didn’t know if she was or she wasn’t, but Kim looked like she needed me to blow smoke up her ass on this one.

“Promise me you’ll protect her if she is. Promise me that, please, Ryan.”

I could promise her I’d protect Isabel with a clear conscience, but I couldn’t promise her I wasn’t going to kill my father. This was such bullshit. Neither Kim nor Isabel deserved to be scared because my father couldn’t keep his nose clean. “I promise, Kim. No one is going to hurt Isabel. Don’t worry.”

She nodded, chewing her lip. “Thank you.”

“Do you have someone you can stay with? I don’t think you should be alone at the house in the Gables.” The house was surrounded by dense foliage, on a sleepy side street. It was a fantastic old neighborhood with historic homes, but that didn’t mean that it was safe if someone wanted to get to my dad.

“I’m going to stay with Mickey.”

He wouldn’t have been my first choice, but it was probably better not to go dragging anyone else into it, whatever
it
was. “Okay. I’ll call him and he can pick you up.”

“I’m sure he’s busy. I don’t want to bother him.”

“I’ll fucking bother him.” Then when I saw her stricken face, I tried to soften my words. “Excuse my language.” I wasn’t raised in a barn, but pretty damn close. My father was a criminal and my mother took off, so I took full responsibility for any shreds of me that were decent, including knowing when to apologize. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to upset you. But I’m angry with Mickey. He should be with you.”