“So what? Will he carry my bags?”Tad asks.
“Mr. Roarke, I don’t think yourealize the importance of what’s going on here,” Roeder says. “If it was up tome, you wouldn’t be out there this season at all, in the most vulnerableposition you could possibly be, but since we can’t expect you to give up yourlife over some psychopath, we’re just asking that you cooperate with this onething that you can do to ensure your safety. We’re offering you what protectionwe can, not just for your sake, but to keep this from happening to others.However, we need your compliance if we’re going to make this work.”
Tad silences. Looking smug asever. Like he’s too fucking good for protection. Ungrateful. That’s what thisprissy brat is. How can he not understand the seriousness of this situation?We’re not talking about one of the many random threats he gets for being gay,but a clear indication that he’s potentially the next target in a series ofhate assassinations.
Debra glares at Tad like she’spissed that he hasn’t shut the fuck up and gone along with all this. I think that’show pretty much everyone feels right about now.
“Fine,” he mutters, his expressionrelaxed in resignation.
Three
Bryce
I stand outside the locker room, waiting for Tad and histeammates to head out to practice. I lean against the wall, taking a deepbreath as I glance at the mounted gold-rimmed clock on the other side of thehall.
Since our first powwow with Tadtwo days ago, he’s avoided me. Hardly even made eye contact. Despiterecognizing his need for a bodyguard, it’s clear he doesn’t plan on making thiseasy for me, which is understandable. I don’t imagine I would be eager aboutsomeone following me around all the time either. But I would also never putmyself in the spotlight like Tad. I’d never want the attention—all those eyeswatching me. Judging me. Scrutinizing my every move. My every decision.
His hot-as-fuck assistant Darrenstands beside me, chatting with a restaurant over the phone to have dinnerdelivered for when Tad’s done with drills for the day. When he finishes, hescrolls on his phone for a bit, occasionally looking at me like he wants tostart a conversation. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he wants to domore than chat. I wouldn’t have a problem with that, but since I’m planning onhaving this job for a while, it’s not like we need to rush into anything.
His almond-colored hair combed ina wave in the front, one hand tucked into his shiny black slacks, his eyesdrift about like he’s stressed about something. I imagine this is the way heusually looks.
“So you’ve been doing this a longtime, it sounds like,” he says.
He’s still not making eye contact.There’s something charming about his meek attitude. Makes me want to loosen himup a little. Although, considering how he looks, it seems more like an act thangenuine insecurity. God, I should have fucked someone before starting this job.
“Six years,” I reply.
“How’d you get conned into havingto deal with an ass like Tad?”
“I could ask you the samequestion,” I say with a smile.
“Fair enough. Just a stupid kidmaking stupid decisions straight out of college. Been going on three yearsnow.”
“Good job?”
His gaze wanders. He looks like he’schoosing his words carefully. Like he knows he does too well to complain.
“I get to meet a lot of people,”he says, looking me in the eyes once again in a way that rouses my interest.The crotch of my jeans shifts.
“So where’s your gun?” he asks.
I open my jacket enough to revealthe holster on my belt, sporting a Sig Sauer SP2022.
He whistles. “That’s no joke, isit?”
“She’s been good to me.”
“I wasn’t talking about the gun,”he says.
I can’t disguise my interest—afact I’m made even more aware of as his gaze moves to the expanding bulge in mypants.
He looks back up at me, hisexpression serious.
“You meet a lot of new people?” Iask.
“Enough to know how to be a goodhost.”
“I bet,” I say, impressed withthis aggressiveness. “It’s been a while since I’ve been anyone’s guest, so I’mnot sure I’d be very much good at it.”
