My job is to keep her safe, not investigate the who and where-the-fuck-for. But it looks as though this time around, that’s what I’d be doing. I simply have to make sure I keep it in my pants and don't fall for my client just like her current array of stalkers, her self proclaimedsasaeng.Shit, I had to look up the term just to get a handle on the idea of an obsessed fan that Cha Cha and her team let so close to her. And there are more on the streets who mob every building she enters. It might be fucking anyone who sent her the letters.
I want a whiskey, but I refuse to drink on the job. Tomorrow I’ll show her the letters, and tomorrow we’ll talk about her security. Right now, I have two hours until the sun rises, and that’s just enough to get a fraction of shut eye before I need to be awake before she starts demanding answers I’m not sure I can answer for her just yet
I place the letters on the coffee table and my phone on top, then tip my head back. From where I sit at this time of year, the rising sun will slap me in the face with the world’s worst tired hangover, but the best wakeup call I can ask for without actually having to set an alarm.
For the few hours of sleep, I’ll take that sun shiny, happy fucker of a glowy slap. My eyes drifted shut as I promised myself I'll analyze every letter in my sleep and what I need to do with Cha Cha tomorrow.
Trust the brain.The old adage has stayed with me for long enough, keeping me alive so far. It will work for one more night.
Fail.
I dream of a sweet voice calling my name, and soft, warm skin I can sink into, black hair wound around my fists like a custom designed noose I make for myself.
CHAPTER FIVE
CHA CHA
“Drake.Drake.What the hell are these?” I snap the papers from his side table in my sleeping bodyguard’s face.
So what if he got two hours sleep while I turn a specific shade of branded green because I did not? I emerged from my room to find him with his eyes closed and looking serene, far more so than I suspect I ever appear. Especially right when I need company, a hug I’m never going to get from him anyway, and information on what comes next.
Because Drake’s grand plan of moving me out to a mountain holiday has a huge flaw in it. Several, actually, but one is bigger than the others:
I’m a musician. I need noise.
Out here, there isn’t any at all.
No music. No chatter. No instruments, no working phone, as mine died last night and no matter how much I hunt through the house, I can't find a single charger. I do, to my horror, find a wall phone that plugs into the actualwall.
I know he has a phone. I can even see it. He has to charge it somehow.
“Drake. Wakeup.”
Teeth baring, I shake the sheaf of letters in his face thatsomeoneshould have shown me. “I said?—”
Warm, hard fingers whip out to grip my wrist. “I heard you, princess.” Dark eyes flash open to meet mine. “I wanted to see what you’d do. That temper of yours is infamous, after all.”
I wrench my hand back and helets me.Hmph. “That temper is…”Not always fake.But it is driven by anxiety, which is spiking right now. “Why did you hide these?”
Two eyebrows hike. “They were right out there in the open for you to read, princess.”
My teeth snap and I wish I had a…body bit to gnaw at. Maybe for a second. Then my ire retreats and I deflate as soon as his logic sinks in. “Why did Shayne hide these from me?”
Drake stretches his arms over his head. The front of his white shirt pulls across his barrel chest, doing little to hide the planes of taut muscle beneath, or the ink that was never designed with a white shirt in mind. “Maybe he was worried about losing a digit. Have you ever shot a gun before?”
I stare at him. “No.”
“Have you had breakfast?”
“No.” I lower the letters I was prepared to batter him with moments before.
“Good. Let's feed you up, have some coffee, and get you learning.” He rises, and I step back. The man is a giant, or I’m just short.
Maybe a bit of both.
“Coffee?” I look at him through my lashes. “Is there a chance of tea?”
Drake looks straight down at me. “Nope.” His fingers twitch at his sides. “Nothing like trying something new when the sunrises, Cha Cha.” The way he says my name is…final. Like he won’t budge.
