I knocked on his bedroom door. “Ronan? Can I come in?” When I received no response, I opened the door and peered inside the dim room. It was surprisingly stark and barren—just a bed and a dresser. Ronan lay on the bed and didn’t stir when I stepped inside.
Standing over him, I couldn’t help noticing the way his long, dark lashes contrasted with his pale skin. I hadn’t paid much attention to the tattoos, but they fit his bad-boy image. For one crazy second, I wondered where else he had ink. Those lashes fluttered, and he gazed up at me with haunted eyes.
“I thought I kicked you out.”
“That sounds so harsh.” I grinned. “Technically, you asked me to leave. But I started to think about the job offer, and if you’re still interested, I think we should talk.”
Ronan propped himself up on his elbow. “Yeah? About what? You want to keep telling me I’m a crap human? Well, news flash. I’ve heard it all. And then some.” He fixed me with an unwavering stare. “I’m not looking for pity or to explain myself. I want someone who’s going to keep my head from getting knocked off.”
I had to hand it to Ronan—he wasn’t a bullshit artist, and he didn’t hold back.
“That’s my specialty. Keeping heads intact for almost fifteen years.”
He scooted up to a seated position. “Who have you worked for in the past?”
“Is this my interview? I’ve never had one in a client’s bedroom before.”
His gaze grew heated, and I felt a corresponding tug in my groin.
“I like being your first.” He worried his full bottom lip. “Who was your last client, and why aren’t you working now?”
I tipped my head to the door. “Maybe we should go to the living room and continue this discussion there?”
Ronan rolled off the bed and came to his feet right beside me. Disturbingly near. “I’m ready.”
Was he playing a game? I couldn’t tell if he was interested in hiring me or a hookup. And at this point, I wasn’t sure how I felt about either one.
Without looking as if I was running away from him, I headed out to the safety of the living room. I chose the club chair across from where Ronan had sprawled out on his large sectional couch.
“To answer your question, my last client was Senator Dan Bridges.” When Ronan showed no sign of recognition, I realized he might’ve still been in prison when the uproar occurred. “He was discovered to have been cheating on his wife with his twenty-three-year-old senatorial aide while he was supposed to be performing Senate duties. Following that, several other young female aides have come forward, claiming they were pressured to have sex with him to keep their jobs, or were sexually harassed in his office. He resigned last week.” I watched the news conference and hated to admit I’d felt a twinge of sadness for the broken man. Then I remembered how he lived his life by threats and coercion and what he’d done to me.
“Damn. What a prick.” Ronan’s eyes narrowed. “I hate cheaters—fucking pick a lane. It isn’t hard to do. Either be married or don’t. I’d never cheat if I was in a relationship. Not that I’ve ever been, but…” He shrugged.
Seemed a little odd for him to be so vehement about cheating when he’d stolen so much money from people, but everyone had lines they didn’t cross.
“I agree. Which is why I quit when I heard the news. I couldn’t work for someone like that. Anyway, that’s where I’ve been for the past five years. Working personal protection for the senator and his wife. I started out as a cop, but I decided it wasn’t the right path for me and turned to security. I’m damn good at what I do, and I’m single, so there’s no distraction. If my clients need me to live with them or work only certain hours, I’m there for them. I usually live with my clients.”
Ronan gazed at me thoughtfully. “I always thought a bodyguard would be necessary only when a person was going to an event.” He shifted his attention to the ink-stained wreck of the box on his kitchen island. “But now, after what happened to me today, I’m not so sure.”
The slight quiver in his voice was enough for me to understand that while Ronan Michaels might project a tough, gives-no-fucks attitude, he was very much a scared man. Not who I’d expected, for sure.
“People have different needs, and I’ve done both long-term and one-night-only work. If I’m with a person or a family over an extended period of time, it means I learn their comings and goings and the little ins and outs of their daily life, which makes it easier for me to protect them. I’ve worked with extremely wealthy people who were afraid of kidnapping plots against them and their children, and actors and actresses who feared for their safety. I’d go with them for their usual Starbucks run, to the gym, and if they wanted some measure of privacy, such as when they were out on a date, I’d position myself in an inconspicuous place at the venue, where I could still be on watch but not on top of them. But if you only want me to go with you to certain places, I’m fine with that as well. The client draws the parameters. I do what they want.”
Ronan sat quietly while I spoke, fingers laced tightly together, his white knuckles the only indication of stress. When I finished, Ronan’s eyes met mine.
“I never thought I’d be in this position, but my life didn’t exactly go according to plan, so I need to pivot on the fly and figure it out fast. Because I’m not going to give in, tuck my tail between my legs and run, even if that’s what people want me to do. I did my time. Isn’t that what prison is for? I thought so, but it looks like no one else does. So fuck it. I don’t like being afraid every time I leave my house. And now I’d also have to worry each time I open a box that maybe my pizza is going to be booby-trapped? I-I don’t feel safe.” That slight quiver again, giving my heart a painful twist. “I need you.” His smile was wry. “I mean, I need to hire you.”
I chuckled, although inexplicably, I liked hearing those three words.Get a grip, Gabriel.
“All right. So my fee is eighty dollars an hour, but if you want me to live here—”
“I do.”
“Fine. We can do biweekly payments. My regular hours are eight a.m. to six p.m., and I do get a day off, of your choosing, plus major holidays. If you want to go out at night, I’m at your disposal—same hourly charge. How does that sound?”
“Good, I guess. I’ve been staying in except for dinner because I can’t sit in this apartment night after night. I’ve been going crazy. I’ll definitely need you the most on the weekends because I want to get a damn social life. I need to talk to someone else besides myself.”
“I’m happy to keep an eye on you. Part of my job is also scouting out locations you want to go to and getting the lay of the place for any potential problems.”
