Rock the Bodyguard (4 page)

There was a pause. “What do you
mean?”

“You were nice to me after the
concert, then today you acted like I was just...” She couldn't finish the
sentence. She was going to say 'just a client', but she was just a client and
worse than that, they'd only known one another a few days. She was acting like
a crazy person and she knew it. “I'm sorry,” she sobbed. “Just... leave me
alone.”

“I'm not going to leave you alone,”
he said. She felt the bed dip under his weight as he sat beside her. “Talk to
me, Cash.”

“You hit me.”

“You were spoiling for it, and
you're not even of age to be drinking. Now tell me what's really bothering
you.”

“There's nothing I can say that
doesn't make me sound crazy,” she sniffed. “So just... leave me, please.”

“I strongly doubt there is anything
you could say that would make me think you're crazy,” he said. “Just try me.”

Cash squeezed her eyes tightly
shut. “I like you, okay? I know you don't like me and I know you think I am
some stupid slutty pop star, so can we just forget it? Please?”

“Cash,” he said. “I don't think
you're slutty...”

“Yes you do!” She exclaimed into
the downy softness of the bed. “It was written all over your face after the
concert.”

“I think you perform some
provocative songs,” he said. “And I'm old fashioned enough to prefer other
forms of entertainment, but that doesn't make you a slut. As for the rest of
it, Cash, I like you too, but I'm your bodyguard. I'm here to keep you safe,
and I intend to do that.”

“That's why you hit me?”

“I swatted you because you were
behaving like a petulant little brat,” he said, a touch of affectionate humor
in his voice.

Cash scowled underneath the covers.
That wasn't what she wanted to hear.

“I didn't mean to upset you,” he
continued. “It was something of a reflex.”

She scowled beneath the sheets.
“You reflex hit people? That's going to get you into trouble.”

“Well not most people,” he amended.
“Just young ladies who seem to really need it.”

“I don't need to be hit,” she said,
offended. “Nobody needs to be hit.”

She heard him sigh. “Cash, come out
of there and let me talk to you properly.”

Squirming onto her side she pushed
back the covers and looked at him. She immediately wished she hadn't. He was
looking at her with those dark gray eyes that held an unfathomable expression.

“Why did you do it?” She asked the
question to hide her own embarrassment. “Why did you have to smack me?”

“Because...” he sighed again and
ran a hand through his hair. He managed to look handsome whilst frustrated too.
“I can't really say without crossing a line, Miss Raine.”

“I think you already crossed that
line,” she pointed out. “When you smacked me and made me cry.”

“That's what bothered me, the
tears,” he said. “I didn't intend to upset you.” He smiled a little and patted
her thigh. “It didn't hurt that much, did it?”

“No,” she admitted. “It was just...
a shock.”

“I bet,” he said. “Nobody pulls you
into line much, do they?”

“I don't need pulling into line,”
Cash said indignantly. “I'm not like those other girls who are always getting
into trouble and getting arrested...”

“No, you're one of the ones who
flies under the radar,” he said. “The one who thinks nobody notices what she's
getting up to.” He gave her one of those looks that made her stomach fizz with
excitement. “Miss Raine, I used to command dozens of men. I know to watch the
quiet ones.”

She allowed herself a little
semi-guilty smile. “But I didn't really do anything...”

He chuckled, a warm, rich sound.
“That's what they all say.”

She looked at him, his lean frame
looking perfect and hard, even perched on the side of her bed. His long legs
were bent in a way that drew her eyes to his lap for a reason she couldn't
quite explain. Then there were his hands, she'd never paid attention to how
large they were before, but now that she looked, she saw how it was that the
sting in her bottom almost covered both her cheeks, his hands were huge.

Somewhere in all the gazing and the
heat sinking through her flesh, the mood in the room shifted. She was
technically wearing shorts, but they were thin and she wasn't wearing any
panties under them and she could feel a slow seeping warmth between her lips.
Goddamn, all he had to do was look at her and her body responded. Even her
nipples were hardening beneath the white tank top. With the way she was lying,
she felt, for a moment, as if she were offering herself to him.

Miles cleared his throat and drew
his hand away from her leg, leaving a sense impression on her skin where she
could still feel his warmth. Cash was almost certain he wasn't immune to what
was passing between them. If she wasn't very much mistaken, color was rising
even on his tanned face. She moved slightly and he leaped up as if the bed had
suddenly turned into lava.

“Just as long as you're alright,
and we understand one another,” he said, just barely meeting her eyes.

Cash bit her lower lip. “I
understand that you're running away.”

“I'm not running away,” he said.
“I'm keeping things professional.”

“Which means you won't be smacking
me again,” she said, sitting up on the bed.

“I wouldn't count on that, Miss
Raine,” he said, turning to leave. “There's ways and means of keeping that
professional.”

“You mean if I paid you to do it?
Wait, I sort of do.” She stood up and put her hands on her hips. “You work for
me, Mr. Rock, which means you should do what I tell you.”

“Cash, sweetheart,” he said softly,
taking her hand in his and patting the back of it lightly. “I wouldn't
recommend bringing that up too often. I don't think you'll like the
consequences.”

She looked into his face and
silently agreed that she probably wouldn't. Miles was clearly not a man to be
antagonized – not unless you liked pain, which she didn't. “Okay,” she said in
a small voice.

“Take a few minutes to compose
yourself,” he said, letting her hand go.

“Okay,” Cash agreed again as he
turned and left her and her still stinging bottom alone.

A few minutes turned out to be a
very conservative estimate. It took Cash a good hour to work up the courage to
leave her room. When she sheepishly crept out into the suite Miles was nowhere
in sight, but Kevin was sitting nearby, working on his laptop. He gave her a
smirking headshake.

“Damn Cash, you know how to make a
scene.”

She screwed her face up even as she
blushed. “Let's never talk about it again.”

“Don't sweat it,” Kevin said. “He
was a hell of a lot worse as a CO.”

“And you unleashed him on me! Why
would you do that?” Cash was only sort of teasing.

“Because he's the best, and he's a
damn good man,” Kevin said, tapping at the keyboard. “You'll get used to his...
weirdness.” As Kevin spoke, Miles entered the room from the balcony. Cash
noticed that he moved very quietly, though he didn't seem to be trying to.
Kevin certainly hadn't noticed that Miles was there.

In an attempt to prevent Kevin from
getting into trouble, Cash widened her eyes at him and shook her head, but
Kevin wasn't paying any kind of attention and kept staring at the screen, even
as Miles came within earshot. “He likes to be in control, that's all. Just keep
your head down and cover your ass if you don't. It's what we used to do.”

“Oh do tell.” Miles spoke up and
Cash almost giggled. The stricken look on Kevin's face was priceless as, for
just a second, he was obviously transported to another place and another time.
She watched as he shook it off and smiled.

“Water under the bridge,” he said.
“That was a long time ago.”

“Not that long ago,” Miles said.
“I'd love to hear any stories you have to share.” He spoke in a deadpan,
authoritarian tone tempered by a wry twist of his lips.

Kevin grinned. “A couple of years
ago and I'd be worried, today, not so much.” His confident

words were belied by the shiftiness
of his gaze. “Just giving Cash a little reassurance, is all.”

“I don't think Miss Raine needs any
reassurance of the kind you were in the process of giving her,” Miles said. “As
I said when I accepted the position, I like a little order about the place.”

“Order means hitting people,” Cash
said to Kevin, “so you better be careful.”

“The punishments he used to give us
would make you beg to be hit, Cash,” Kevin said. “Don't be fooled by his cuddly
exterior.”

“Cuddly exterior,” Cash giggled,
repeating the phrase. There was nothing cuddly about Miles, he was hard as
nails and though she hadn't yet had the pleasure of seeing him without a shirt
on, she was sure that his body was hard and muscular with little to no
'cuddliness'.

Miles folded his arms over his
chest as Kevin and Chase chortled at his expense. “Don't you two both have work
to be getting on with?”

“Sir, yes sir,” Cash said, giving
him a playful salute. She was already feeling much better, somehow the upset
from the smack had turned into something much more mellow – a sense of security
that was quite unexpected. Her spirit felt lighter and freer than it had in a
long time and though Miles mock scowled at her and threatened to repeat the
treatment if she didn't go and get ready for her interview, she couldn't help
but smile as she made her way over to the makeup team who were setting up on
the other side of the suite.

“I need all the details for
everyone coming on tour,” Miles said, sitting down with Kevin and turning the
conversation back to the business at hand. “Is it just Cash and the support
staff we already know?”

“Not quite,” Kevin said, looking
very pleased with himself. “I think I might have swung a deal to get another
one of my artists on the European leg as an opener for Cash.”

“Who is that?”

“Stabby. Longstockings.” Kevin said
the name in two distinct parts, as if Miles was supposed to be impressed by it.

“Stabby Longstockings,” Miles
repeated the name incredulously. “What's her real name?”

Kevin made an unimpressed face at
him. “Mattie Dwyer, or Matilda Dwyer if you want the full name. She's a bit of
a firebrand, but she'll add some edge to this tour.”

“I thought there was enough edge in
those dances Cash does,” Miles said dryly.

“Different sort of edge. Cash is
sugar, Mattie is spice.” Kevin turned the laptop so Miles could see it, and hit
play on a video. Discordant bassy sound began pouring out of the speakers,
followed by the semi-lyrical screeching of a young woman unleashing a torrent
of profanity that made Miles physically wince with the force of his own
disapproval.

“Don't tell me you're bringing some
strung out misfit on tour,” he said, reaching over to hit the space bar so the
cacophony stopped.

“She's not strung out, I don't
represent people who do drugs,” Kevin said. “She's talented, and she's starting
to get a following. Cash is ahead in the game at the moment, but this girl,
this girl has heart.” His face held a look of pure admiration that completely
mystified Miles. All he saw was a raucous little rabble-rouser.

“I'll have to meet her before we
leave.”'

“Oh don't worry,” Kevin said
cheerfully. “She's coming over soon. She and I need to go over some of the details
too, and I'd like to see her and Cash get along.”

“Yes, because what Miss Raine
really needs at this point in her life is a bad influence.”

Kevin shot him a look. “You're not
Cash's father, Miles. She's going to be around a lot of different people in
this industry, heck, she's been around them for years. She'll handle it just
fine. Besides, you're judging Mattie on first appearances, just like you did
Cash – and you ended up liking Cash, didn't you?”

Miles had to admit that Kevin had a
point. A good point, even. He reserved his judgment, even though his gut was
telling him that this Matilda Dwyer did not bode well for the peace and well
being of his little operation.

Later that afternoon, there was a
rough pounding at the door of the suite. Miles opened it and looked down at
what turned out to be a pint sized woman in a black leather jacket, black
jeans, and black leather boots. She couldn't have been more than five feet
tall, though she was clearly doing her best to make up for it by looking tough.

“Hey,” she said with a rough jerk
of her head that sent limp black locks slapping against her pale cheeks. “I'm,
uh, here to see Kev.” Her voice was rough and husky, it sounded like she'd been
screaming for days. Miles judged her to be a few years older than Cash, she had
a certain maturity and worldliness that Cash did not. She also smelled of
cigarettes and marijuana and he couldn't help but notice that her clothes
looked as if they'd been slept in.

“You must be Matilda.”

“Call me Mattie, only my dead
grandmother calls me Matilda,” Mattie said, slipping past him.

“Hey, Kev,” she said, forgetting
Miles completely as she sauntered in, tossed herself onto one of the palatial
leather couches and put her boots up on a coffee table. She looked up to see
Miles still standing over her and nodded again. “Hey, Muscles.”

“Mattie,” 'Kev' said with a goofily
broad smile. “This is Miles, he's in charge of security for Cash this tour.”

Mattie nodded as she looked up at
Miles with mild interest. “I bet nothing gets past you, huh?”

She pushed back strands of long
hair and reached inside her jacket pocket for a cigarette, which she put to her
lips and lit. “Wouldn't fit past you,” she said out of the side of her mouth as
she drew deep on the white cylinder, sucking all manner of toxic chemicals into
her lungs.

“Not in here please, Ms. Dwyer.”
Miles motioned to the cigarette.

“It's okay,” she said. “It's
clove.”

“This is a non-smoking suite,” he
insisted patiently.

“It'll be fine,” Mattie said,
exhaling a plume of smoke.

“Yes, if you put it out.”

“What's your deal, Muscles?” She
puffed away as she spoke. “Are you with the hotel? Worried about the
furnishings?”

Tiring of the argument, Miles
reached out, plucked the cigarette from Mattie's fingers and carried it away to
stub it out in the sink. “No. Smoking,” he reiterated.

Mattie flipped him off, but smiled
as she did it, blurring the intent of the message. Miles gave Kevin a look, a
look that said he was not impressed, and that Kevin better get his artist under
control.

“Give it a rest, Mattie,” Kevin cut
in. “Quit tormenting the man who might save your butt if it needs saving.”

“I thought he was Cash's security?”
Mattie said, asking the question Miles also suddenly wanted to ask. “I don't
need security. I like to keep it real. And in the spirit of keeping it real,
let's face it, nobody knows who I am. Getting shot or something would probably
help my career.”

Before Miles could tell Mattie what
he thought of casual references to being shot, Cash disengaged herself from the
last stages of her interview. It had been for one of the major media outlets
and as a result she was dressed in a light blue silk dress that emphasized her
slim waist and clung to her toned hips. Her makeup was light and natural and
she looked utterly flawless, a breath of fresh beauty as elemental as the great
ocean that crashed against the beach visible through the suite's floor to
ceiling windows. Miles, Kevin and Mattie all fell silent at her approach,
awe-struck by her beauty.

It was Kevin who recovered first.
“Cash, this is Mattie – or as you might know her, Stabby Longstockings.”

“Oh my god!” Cash let out a trill
of excitement as Mattie got up from the couch and crossed over to her. In spite
of looking like a young goddess, Cash seemed to have forgotten that she was a
celebrity. She blushed visibly as Mattie drew closer.

“Hey, beautiful,” Mattie said,
taking Cash's hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Cash giggled, a
melodic sound as Mattie bent at the waist in an exaggerated bow. “It's going to
be a pleasure working with you,” she said in a husky purr.

“I'm really looking forward to it,”
Cash said. “I love your stuff. It's so... raw.”

“And your dancing is amazing,”
Mattie replied smoothly. “I could watch it all day long.” Her voice dropped a
little lower and became playfully suggestive. “I can't wait to see you move to
my beats.”

Miles' jaw almost dropped as he
watched a woman half his size putting the moves on Cash – and doing a damn good
job of it too.

Cash smiled broadly. “Well thank
you,” she said, visibly pleased. “I was really excited when Kevin said you
might be coming on tour with us. Do you think you'll be able to make it?”

“As long as Muscles over there
doesn't decide to wreck me before we go, sure,” Mattie said, looking at Cash in
a conspiratorial manner that Miles did not like.

“If you're implying that I would
hit a woman, you are very much mistaken,” he said stiffly.

“Well, she's not entirely
mistaken,” Cash corrected him.

“That wasn't the same thing.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Mattie held her
hands up. “What are you two talking about?” She leaned in close to Cash and
gave Miles a dirty look.

“Nothing like that,” Cash said, “he
just swatted me. He's sort of old fashioned.”

Mattie's scowl turned into a death
glare. She stalked across the room and reached up to poke Miles in the chest
with a pointy finger that hurt. “You think it's fun to hit women, do you,
punk?”

Miles clamped his jaw tight. “It's
not hitting, it is discipline.”

“Oh really, how about you and I go
outside and I show you some fucking discipline?” Mattie snarled the question,
her rage completely out of place in the pleasant hotel suite.

“Hey, it wasn't like that,
seriously,” Cash tried to intervene.

“You don't have to say that,”
Mattie said, poking Miles again. “I know what these scum are like.”

“I can assure you,” Miles said.
“You have no idea what scum like me are like. Now kindly remove your finger
from my chest.”

Mattie cocked her head. “Or what?
Are you going to hit me too? Is that what you do when people don't do what you
want? You hit them?”

“I won't lay a finger on you, Miss
Dwyer,” Miles assured her. “Not without permission.”

“Permission from who?” Her face was
still all twisted up, her voice high with outrage and incredulity.

He nailed her with a look. “You.”

“Oh.” She stopped and dropped her
hand. “Ohhhhhhhhh.” She looked from Miles to Cash. “Ohh, okay, I see what this
is... you two are... mm hmm... okay. Kinky.” Reaching up again, Mattie brushed
off the spot where she'd poked Miles. “Sorry about that.”

“Kinky?” Cash looked confused. Miles
could almost see the innocence falling away from her in Mattie's presence.

“I hope you're not in the habit of
picking fights with people twice your size,” Miles said, ignoring Cash's
question. “We don't need anyone making trouble.”

Mattie shrugged and put her hands
in her pockets. “Maybe sometimes I say some things I shouldn't.”

“Definitely you do. You'll have to
rein that in.”

“Okay, fair call, Muscles,” she
said, retreating from his personal space.

Miles shot Kevin a dark look. He
was not impressed. Even if Mattie wasn't strictly his problem, it didn't mean
she wasn't capable of causing problems for Cash. The fact that she seemed to
realize she'd been out of line was but a small comfort. Mattie obviously had a
temper and some serious issues to back it up with. She was the one thing Miles
really didn't like – a complication.

At the first available opportunity,
he drew Kevin aside. “Get rid of her,” he said. “She's a time bomb.”

Kevin shook his head. “I can't.
This is good for the tour. It's good for Cash and it's good for Mattie.”

“Assuming Mattie doesn't fight her
way through Europe.”

“She's a little passionate,” Kevin
admitted. “But she's a professional, just like Cash, she knows how to behave
when it counts.”

“Oh, so picking a fight with me was
professional, was it? And hitting on Cash? What if they decide to get together?
Do you really want your star being led astray?”

Kevin feigned a thoughtful
expression. “I don't think Cash swings that way, but the media typically takes
an interest in that sort of rumor.” He smiled his 'up to something' smile, an
expression Miles knew all too well.

“Kevin, you little snake, this
isn't about music. This is about sensation. This is about publicity. You're
trying to start rumors about Cash and Mattie...”

“I'm doing nothing of the kind,”
Kevin said. “If the press leap to certain conclusions, I can hardly...” he
trailed off under a very hard look from Miles. “Hey,” he shrugged. “It's
business.”

“It's cheap and it's tawdry and
Cash deserves better.”

“Ease up,” Kevin said. “I'm not
going to orchestrate anything. It's perfectly normal to have lesser known
artists open for bigger acts, and both Cash and Mattie are talented.”

“Fine.” Miles ground the word out.
“But you need to keep that kid under control.”

“I will. I promise.” Kevin smirked.
“I might even enjoy it.”

Miles didn't quite believe Kevin,
but there was no point in arguing further. At the end of the day, business was
business and Mattie was just a variable he'd have to account for when he was
working. But as he watched Mattie and Cash smiling and laughing together over a
fruit smoothie, he couldn't shake the ominous feeling that nothing good would
come from taking Miss Stabby Longstockings on tour.

*
* * * *

Mattie was a problem, but she was
not the only problem. A two-month long tour throughout Europe was no small
matter to arrange and though most of the bookings and dates had been set in
advance, the security issues were yet to be entirely settled. Over the next few
days, Miles found himself buried in work. Cash was likewise busy. Her schedule
was beyond frantic, she worked almost every minute that god sent and she barely
slept. More than once he observed her pacing in the middle of the night,
occasionally working on a few dance steps or humming a few bars of a song.

“Miles?” He looked up late one
night to find her standing at his elbow. She was smiling as usual, but she
looked tired. Overtired, even.