Necessary Risk (Bodyguard) (9 page)

Fairfax frowned, looking both unconvinced and unimpressed. “Let me ask you a question. Do you think it’s fair that we held up our end of the deal and got you exactly what you wanted, and now you can’t pay us for services rendered?” He nodded at someone behind the chair, and suddenly a plastic bag came down over his head, clamped in place with strong, immovable hands. He struggled for air, kicking out his feet as his lungs burned, his vision blurring around the edges. After a moment the bag lifted, and he sucked in a lungful of air, sputtering and gasping as his pulse thundered in his ears.

“Answer me. Do you think that’s fair?”

He shook his head rapidly, spots dancing across his field of vision. “No.”

Fairfax smiled, all tanned skin and white teeth. “I’m so glad we agree.” The smile still in place, he leaned down, his hands braced on the arms of the chair, his face inches away. “You will pay me every cent you owe me with interest, you fucking worm, or I will end you, slowly and painfully. The next time I set eyes on you, you better have my money. Don’t make me break your fingers. I hate resorting to clichés.”

He nodded. “I’ll have it. I promise.”

And he knew exactly where he was going to get it.

Chapter 7

S
ierra stepped into the restaurant with Sean and Jamie at her back, a sea of customers enjoying their lunches before her. She glanced over her shoulder at Sean, who sent her a reassuring smile. Not only was she not looking forward to the meeting with her agent, but she suddenly felt open and exposed. Her eyes darted around the restaurant, looking for…something. Anything out of place. Her shoulders stiffened as she realized how right Sean had been about the potential danger in public spaces right now. She didn’t even know who or what to look for, or what they’d do next. Fear mingled with anger, and she gripped her purse a little tighter.

“Relax. You’re fine. Jamie and I have got you.” Sean’s deep voice was quiet, and it washed over her, unknotting the tense muscles in her back and shoulders. He laid a hand on her lower back and guided her farther into the restaurant. “I’ll be at a table nearby, and Jamie will be watching the doors. If it wasn’t safe, I wouldn’t have let you come.” She glanced back at him again, and his hand pressed a bit more firmly into her back, warmth radiating out from his touch and relaxing her even further. She nodded, gratitude that he was here and trust in his ability to keep her safe extinguishing the anxiety eating at her chest.

She caught Linda’s eye and waved, weaving her way through the maze of square tables, each topped with a pristine white tablecloth. The sun streaming in the front windows reflected off the wine bar on the opposite wall, illuminating the elegant space done in shades of cream and tan. Nearly every table was full, mostly with industry types conducting business over twenty-five-dollar salads that wouldn’t have satisfied a rabbit. As she approached the table, a waiter appeared and pulled her chair out for her. She smiled politely and took a seat, watching as Sean settled himself a couple of tables away. Close enough to protect her, but far enough away to give her some privacy. The low buzz of conversation, clinking glasses, and scraping chairs hummed through the restaurant, shrouding them in a hush of sound.

Linda tucked a smooth strand of ice-blond hair behind one ear before taking a tiny sip of her water. “Sierra, sweetheart, how
are
you?” Her well-preserved face barely moved as she spoke. Her head swiveled around, taking in Sean a few tables behind her. One slender eyebrow arched inquisitively. “You weren’t kidding about the security.”

“I’m fine, Linda. And no. I wasn’t kidding. After what happened the other day, I’d be stupid not to have security.”

Linda flipped open her menu, her thin lips pursed. “Hmm. Well. You could just, you know. Quit. Then you’d be out of danger, right?”

Sierra bit back the scoff rising up in her throat. “If I quit, they win. And Choices loses. I refuse to let some whack-jobs have that kind of power.”

“I just don’t understand why you’d put yourself at risk for them.”

“Because I understand the importance of what they do, Linda. And I’m not going to let these bullies scare me.”

“But you already are scared, darling. I can see it. You’re pale. You look tired. You keep looking at your bodyguard as if you’re terrified he’s going to leave.”

As Linda spoke, Sierra realized that her eyes had, in fact, drifted back to Sean. Almost guiltily she pulled them away, not sure what to do with the realization that she needed Sean around to feel OK. That she’d attached herself to the safe harbor he provided like a barnacle to a ship. Eventually, mercifully, this would be behind her, and then he’d move on to another job.

Oh. The thought hurt like pressing on a bruise, tender and sore, purple and black around the edges.

Oh.

Pushing the thought away, she flipped open her menu, which was divided not by type of cuisine but by type of diet. Raw, vegan, gluten-free. Only in LA was this completely normal.

“I can get you work. Real work,” continued Linda as she pulled a script out of the briefcase tucked against her chair.

“My work at Choices
is
real work.”

“It puts you in danger, and makes you almost no money.”

“I’m not hurting for money, Linda. You see my residuals. I’m doing just fine.” She certainly wasn’t rich—especially by Hollywood standards—but the residual payments from both
Family Tree
and
Sunset Cove
brought in a few hundred thousand dollars a year, which was plenty. In fact, those residuals were pretty much the only reason she even still had an agent. She’d bought her house outright, and didn’t have any extravagant expenses.

Well, aside from what was likely to be a whopper of a bill from Virtus. She’d done a little Googling, and figured her weekly tab would be somewhere around ten thousand dollars.

So far it had been worth every penny.

“Why do fine when you can do great? Take a look at this,” Linda said, sliding the script across the table to Sierra. “This is right up your alley.”

Before she could reach for the stack of pages, the waiter approached to take their orders. Linda ordered the “farm lettuce special,” which was basically a head of lettuce with salad dressing. Salad dressing on the side, of course.

“And for you?” The waiter turned to Sierra, pen poised over his notepad.

“I will have the portobello mushroom chicken, and a glass of sparkling water. Thanks.” She snapped her menu shut and eyed the script in front of her warily.

“It’s not going to bite you. Just look at it.”

She hesitated, running her thumb over the chunky edge of the script, flipping the corners up with a soft burr of sound. “Linda, I appreciate this, but I’m not really acting much right now.”

Linda sighed heavily and reached across the table, opening the script and tapping a manicured finger over a name on the front page. Elle Breccan. Sierra frowned slightly. That name was familiar. Why? She racked her brain, trying to pull the information free.

“The film’s called
Bodies
,” said Linda, continuing to leaf through the pages like a saleswoman presenting a brochure. “It’s based on a true story. Remember that human trafficking ring that was discovered in Atlanta a couple of years ago? The film focuses on Elle Breccan, the lawyer responsible for both discovering it and saving all those girls.” Linda looked up, sending Sierra a meaningful look. “Even though she got shot and almost died in the process.”

“Wait, you think I could play Elle Breccan?” She remembered the story now. Breccan had discovered an underground ring of over two hundred massage parlors that served as a front for sex trafficking. Girls as young as eleven—many of them immigrants, both documented and undocumented—had been abducted from their families and forced into the trade, often being sold to the highest bidder. Breccan, the assistant US attorney for the area, had done everything in her power to stop it.

“Absolutely. You’re in your thirties now, so you could play someone up to forty.”

Sierra rolled her eyes, knowing there was little she could do about the pervasive ageist sexism in Hollywood. She pulled the script toward her and began flipping through the pages, a tiny spark of excitement flaring up inside her as she read.

“Are you interested?” asked Linda after a few minutes. The waiter returned with their food, and Sierra moved the script to the side. She cut a piece of her chicken and chewed thoughtfully.

“Intrigued,” she answered finally, flipping through a few more pages. It had been years since she’d acted, but this story…it was incredible. Not only was Elle Breccan a compelling character, but the story was one that needed to be told. At first glance the script looked solid. Well written and dramatic without being preachy.

“Just promise me you’ll think about it. I can get you on the list to audition, but I need to know soon.”

Sierra felt herself giving in, her interest in the project winning out. “I promise I’ll consider it.” Linda’s face lit up in triumph, and Sierra felt compelled to add, “I’m not saying yes or no, just that I’ll think about it.”

Linda speared a chunk of lettuce and pointed her fork at Sierra, smiling confidently and looking completely pleased with herself. “I told you it wasn’t a rom-com.”

*  *  *

Sean’s gaze roamed over the restaurant, returning every thirty seconds or so to Sierra, who was deep in conversation with her agent, a script open on the table between them, their plates now empty. He made eye contact with Jamie, who was stationed at another table by the door, and he nodded. The restaurant was busy, but there were no threats. Maybe he’d overreacted, telling her she couldn’t go to the Chateau Marmont with her friends. She’d been so disappointed. He glanced at her table again, and her eyes met his for a second before she returned her attention to the script. Something hot and possessive seared through him, and he knew he’d made the right call.

Keeping her safe was
everything
. It was the
only
thing.

His phone buzzed from inside his suit jacket pocket, and he pulled it out, his eyes still scanning the restaurant as he answered.

“How’re things going with the Blake job? I noticed you pulled a lot of resources in for this,” said Patrick by way of greeting. The man was physically incapable of saying hello.

“Everything’s fine so far. Equipment’s all installed, and we’ve got the rotation going, so between the guards and the surveillance, I feel we’ve got a good handle on the situation.”

“No further signs of the bastards, huh?”

“Not so far. I talked to Antonio, and they’re still investigating. The cops have been looking into Sacrosanct for a while, but they don’t have enough evidence to move on them.”

“Are we sure it’s Sacrosanct? Could it be anyone else? She got other enemies?”

“Sacrosanct makes the most sense, but it’s possible the harassment could be coming from somewhere else. Antonio’s looking into it, and I’ve also got Clay checking on a few people.”

“People like state senators?” Patrick’s voice was crisp and sharp.

Sean grimaced. “Just covering all the bases.”

“If Jack Nikolaidis finds out you’re having him investigated, shit’s gonna hit the fan and splatter all over you.”

“Clay’s good, Dad. Discreet and smart. Nikolaidis will never know.”

“But you think he’s involved?”

Sean rubbed a hand over his mouth, the back of his neck prickling. “I don’t know. He and Sierra dated, and it ended badly.”

There was a moment of silence before Patrick spoke again. “Yeah, OK. That’s worth looking into. You just pray he doesn’t find out.”

“He won’t. I trust Clay.”

Patrick grunted before changing the topic. “Priestley was in this morning, looking for you.”

Sean glanced at the ceiling and shoved a hand through his hair. “Why?”

“Probably because he wants his job back.”

Sean laughed, one short, bitter burst. “He burned that bridge. Hell, he didn’t just burn it, he blew it the fuck up. No way is he coming back.”

“We should give him another chance. With his military experience, he was a damn good bodyguard. Smart. Brave. Tough.”

The ease with which his father complimented someone else ate at Sean, but he shoved it down, ignoring the acidic churning in his stomach. “He was also reckless, with a temper. I almost lost an eye because of him.”

“But you didn’t.”

“
But I didn’t
? That’s your defense? Jesus.” Sean forced himself to take a breath, not wanting to get drawn into the usual argument right here and now. “The answer’s no. Colt Priestley is never coming back to Virtus. He’s too much of a liability.”

“Fine. But I like him.”

Of course he did. A muscle in Sean’s jaw ticced. “Great. Go have a beer with him then, but he can’t have his job back.”

“Keep me updated on the Blake job.” And with that his father hung up. Apparently he was just as allergic to
good-bye
as he was to
hello
. Not to mention the myriad other things he never said.