Burn: A South Beach Bodyguards Book (4 page)

She waved her hand. “He had to work. It’s okay, I understand.”

“I don’t.” But there was no point in me making her feel worse about it so I shut my damn mouth. “I’m going to call him. Can I get you a drink, or would you like some pizza?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” She smiled at me. “I always told your father you’re a good boy.”

That made me snort. I went for another beer. “I’m sure he disagreed with you on that one.”

For a minute, I thought she was going to try to convince me otherwise, but she remained silent as I opened the refrigerator. “I have to wake up Isabel every two hours, right? Isn’t that protocol after a concussion?”

“That’s what the doctor said.”

When I turned around, she was digging in her purse. “I picked up the pain pills they prescribed for her if she needs them.”

“She doesn’t seem to be in pain.” But I took the pills from Kim and put them in the cupboard next to my gun. “Can you leave me your number? I don’t think I have it.”

After she did, I texted my father and told him he needed to pick up Kim. He called me back. “I’m busy,” he said, as a greeting. “Call one of the other guys to pick her up.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. Call Wester, he’s free right now.”

“Dad, he just got shot. I don’t think he’s up for escort duty.” Wester was a buddy of mine who had taken a bullet out on Star Island at some party gone wrong. I didn’t know the details, just that Wester had been grazed and was in pain and pretty pissed off.

“He’s bored. He’ll be glad to do it.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Could Mickey be any more annoying? I hung up, called Wester, and explained that he needed to provide a safe escort. He said he was in South Beach, so depending on traffic, he’d likely be there in fifteen minutes. I lived in North Beach, which on a map was about 1.5 miles away from South Beach, but in reality that might as well have been twenty miles during tourist season, which we were swinging into.

Once all of that was taken care of, I asked Kim if she knew where Isabel’s phone was.

“It’s in my purse.”

“Can I see it?”

“Sure.” She pulled it out and handed it to me. There was a passcode on it. “Do you know the code?”

“No.”

“What’s her birthday?”

“March 16.”

I tried 0-3-1-6. It worked. “Tell her to change her passcode. That was way too easy.” Then I had a random thought. “How old is Isabel?”

“She’s twenty-one.”

I had honestly thought she was younger than that. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe because she seemed young. Fresh. Innocent. “She’ll be twenty-two in March?” That was only two and a half years younger than me, which seemed hard to believe. Clearly, her childhood had been a little more buffered than my own, lucky her.

“Yes.” Kim anxiously ran her fingers through her hair and peered over at the phone. “Do you see anything?”

“Just a bunch of texts with someone named Brandy, and a guy named Juan Carlos.”

Kim made a face. “Juan is bad news. I can’t stand him. He’s a liar and a user, but Isabel doesn’t see it. She wants to give everyone a fair chance. But me? One date and if there are any red flags I move on. Next!”

That did not explain how she had ended up married to my father, but I kept my mouth shut.

“Brandy is her best friend. She’s a nice girl.”

“It looks like she was supposed to meet Juan tonight at Lincoln Road.” I felt my gut tighten. There was nothing out of the ordinary as I scanned the texts, other than the fact that it was clear Isabel and Juan were dating. They were flirty and… what the fuck? He had sent her a dick pic. What a tool. I closed it quickly before I threw up or before Isabel’s mother saw it.

It wasn’t even a good dick. I mean, if I was going to send a shot of my junk to someone, I’d make sure I looked huge and hard as a rock. This guy was semi-erect and hairier than a gorilla. I leaned over and lifted my beer up. I needed to force that bile back down my throat.

“Well, I’m not calling him,” Kim said. “Let him think she stood him up.” She flipped her hair back. “Maybe that’s wrong, but I don’t care. My daughter deserves better than a weasel like him.”

I would agree with that. By all accounts, Isabel was a nice girl.

“We should probably talk to him. See if he knew what Isabel was doing, or if he knows anything about anyone who might want to hurt her.” Hell, maybe he wanted to hurt her. Though I couldn’t imagine why anyone would want that. Isabel just seemed so sweet. Normally.

“Can you handle that? I don’t think I want to talk to him.”

“Sure. No problem. Can I keep the phone?”

Kim nodded and then she rubbed her temples. “Lord, I need a martini. I’m so stressed out.”

“Well, if anyone knows how to get you drunk, it’s my dad.” I didn’t mean it to be funny, but Kim suddenly laughed.

“That is true. He’s always a lot of fun.”

Yeah. Just a barrel of laughs. That was Pops. “Don’t worry, Kim. I’ll take care of everything.”

I got a text from Wester that he was outside my apartment. I let him in. “Hey, man, thanks.” I gestured to Kim. “This is Kim, my dad’s ex-wife. Can you take her to my dad’s place in Sunny Isles? It’s right on Collins.”

“Sure, no problem.” Wester was a good-looking guy. The kind of guy that women immediately noticed, straightened their backs, and smiled for. It was those damn blue eyes. He always noticed, but he never cared. He was even more allergic to commitment than me and that was saying a whole hell of a lot. “Ma’am.” He reached out and shook Kim’s hand. “You ready?”

“Yes, thanks.”

Kim’s voice had changed. Even at twenty years older than Wester, she had instinctively reacted to him. It was what all women did and most of the time it amused me, and I didn’t really care if my dad’s ex-wife thought Wester was hot. He apparently was. But at that moment as Kim walked out the front door of my apartment, Wester’s eyes lit up with interest as he glanced back into my apartment. He was looking over my shoulder.

“I see how it is,” he said, nodding with his chin towards my bedroom.

Crap. I spun around and yep. There was Isabel. Totally naked. Again.

“You don’t know anything,” I said, shoving him out the door and pulling it ninety percent closed behind me. “And no looking.”

“I wasn’t trying to look.” He winced. “And could you not shove me right where I got shot, motherfucker?”

“Sorry.” Not sorry at all. I’d seen the glean in his eye. He couldn’t turn a blind eye to every other woman on the face of the fucking planet then actually be attracted to Isabel of all people. I wasn’t having it.

Wester’s eyebrows went up. “That didn’t sound very sincere.”

“Fuck you.”

It was so unlike me to be overly emotional, Wester started laughing. “Chill out, man. I’m just giving you shit. But now I know your weak spot. Don’t let anyone else know or you’re fucked.”

My jaw twitched. “I don’t have a weak spot.”

“Uh-huh.” He leaned closer and murmured to me, “You take the daughter, I’ll take the mother.”

“Fucking pig.”

That made the corner of his mouth lift. “You know it.”

I called a goodbye to Kim then went back into my apartment and slammed the door shut. I took a deep breath and turned around to face Isabel and all her curves and temptations.

She was smiling and running her hands through her hair.

I was dead. Just fucking dead.

I
couldn’t sleep. I’d only gone into the bedroom because Ryan had upset me, so when I got too bored to lie there anymore, on his sheets, smelling his scent, I decided that Ryan and I needed to get a few things straight. Most of them involving the fact that I was tired of him treating me like a little girl who didn’t know her head from her backside. Along with the fact that he seemed offended and appalled by my body, which was seriously upsetting. Not at all the reaction I’d been hoping for. Him catching me in the shower had not been planned, but I certainly would have appreciated a different outcome considering I’d been crushing on him since the first second I’d laid eyes on him at my mom’s wedding to Mickey.

I knew I should get dressed before going out there, but I just had an overwhelming desire to finally get a rise out of him. Today I had the courage I’d never had before and I wanted to take advantage of it, or at least get some kind of reaction from him other than averted eyes.

It seemed like I should have a headache, but I didn’t. I just had… fogginess. I kept trying to remember the day before, two weeks before, today. Five minutes ago. But everything kept slipping through my fingers. I knew things. Just knew them somehow without thinking about it. But I couldn’t remember specific details.

It was a completely bizarre feeling, but oddly, not scary. It felt more like when you’re just about to drop off to sleep and thoughts roll in and out and you can’t get a hold of them. They flit in and flit out and you don’t mind, because your eyelids are heavy and you feel aware yet dreamily unaware. There was a bit of a knot on the back of my head, and it was tender when I touched it, but beyond that, I was pretty sure that once I got a full night’s sleep I would be fine and my sleepiness would abate.

Until then, who objected to not having racing thoughts and a giant to-do list? Not me. I felt like I’d spent the afternoon lying on the beach dozing, the sound of other people and the ocean waves a lulling white noise in the background. I felt oddly relaxed, and tactile. My skin felt alive, my breasts heavy, my body responding to being around Ryan. Because while I didn’t remember falling or going to the ER, I did remember that I had harbored many a secret thought about Ryan Harris and what he and I could do alone together, naked.

The minute I opened the bedroom door I hesitated, confused for a second. I thought I heard my mother’s voice, and briefly I was disconcerted trying to pinpoint how I’d gotten to Ryan’s, but then I saw him close his front door and turn back to me, and I forgot why it mattered. What mattered was letting Ryan know precisely how I felt about him.

“I can’t sleep,” I said.

“I see that.” Ryan’s jaw was stern, his eyes stormy.

He wasn’t classically good looking and was the very opposite of a pretty boy. Having grown up around beautiful Latin men, I liked the difference in Ryan, in his rugged dirty man appearance. He looked like he didn’t give a shit about what he was wearing, or about putting product in his hair, or wearing jewelry. He looked like he liked guns, fast cars, and fucking. It was exciting as hell to me.

“Was my mom here?” I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around why my mother would be there when I was supposed to be having sex with Ryan.

Ryan frowned. My feelings exactly. “Yes, she just left. You talked to her.”

“No, I didn’t.” I just stared at him, trying to piece together what had happened earlier, but I just had flashes, images of me being startled, of bright lights that hurt my eyes, and then Ryan. Maybe I had talked to my mother though. I was confused again. Nothing seemed to be making sense. “Aren’t you coming to bed?” I asked.

“Um, no. It’s only six thirty.”

“It is?” I glanced towards the window and sun was beating through the blinds. “Oh.” My head was starting to hurt. I had come into the living room to seduce Ryan, and now I just felt confused. “I didn’t mean to sleep though. I meant to do better things than sleeping.” I couldn’t let him distract me from the obvious.

“Is-“ Ryan made a face and rubbed his hand over his face. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You’re not yourself. You don’t want me to come to bed with you.”

That actually made me laugh. Was he joking? “Yes, I do. I always have.”

“Oh, God.” He sounded pained, and he tore his T-shirt off over his head.

Now we were getting somewhere. My breath caught in my throat. His chest was ripped, broad. Lickable. I wanted to run my hands everywhere over him. I wanted to dig my nails into his flesh and hold on while he pushed inside me. I started to move towards him, but suddenly his warm shirt hit me in the face.

“Put my shirt on. Please. I’m literally begging you,” he said.

That was not at all the reaction I’d been hoping for. I peeled the fabric off my face. Suddenly I felt such a hot stab of disappointment, I thought I was going to cry. “Why? Don’t you think I’m hot enough for you?”