Dee grinned. “If it makes you smile like that, Jameson, how could I say no?”
For the rest of the afternoon, Jameson was able to slip away from his worries. He and Dee exchanged songs back and forth, and right before she left, he did her makeup for her date that evening. They took a million photos that no one else would ever see, and once Dee took off for New York, he picked his favorites, adding them to a special folder on his computer.
Jameson plopped back down at the makeup counter. He grabbed two wipes from the dispenser, then smoothed them across his face, pulling color from his eyes, cheeks, and lips. He stared at himself, then slapped his hand against his forehead with a whimper.
Dee wasn’t out the door for more than two minutes, and already, he was back to thinking about Gray.
Gray
One week later…
Gray passedbetween two small trees as he wandered the property. The branches all had little green nubs on them, but the trees were still bare enough that he could see across the property a bit, and he did his best to memorize the landscape.
Considering the jobs Gray had pulled with Raiden and Horatio, he was pretty damn confident about his skills. He could sneak, fight, and keep watch better than just about anyone. But a week of watching Jameson from afar had definitely perked Gray’s interest, from the glimpses he caught of the beautiful man on the porch many mornings to the brief moments of conversation they shared together, just a few words enough to lift Gray’s mood for the rest of the day. And the more he’d started to crush on Jameson, the more he started to fantasize about playing the hero. If he could show up and do the job right, he wouldn’t do just do good by his uncle—he’d be doing good by Jameson, too.
And to do all that, to keep Jameson safe, Gray needed to know every inch of that property, even better than he knew it when Declan had made him memorize the map. He rounded a slant in the hillside, sliding a little on the dirt as he committed the landscaping to memory, then headed back toward the house.
Everything was looking good, and he was about to treat himself to a little TV time when his phone started beeping. He’d linked it with the security system, and the map that popped up showed an alert on the fence near the back.
Gray took off like a bolt of lightning. His muscles sprung to life, launching him through the trees and around the bend in the hill. His breath came out heavy and fast, and his boots slid against the muddy ground.
And sure enough, when he pushed through the last bushes, a man with a camera was climbing down the fence.
Rage flew through Gray, flashes of silver anger clouding his vision. Why the hell these assholes couldn’t just leave Jameson alone, he didn’t understand. He knew that it wasn’t just a photograph they were after. They would be happy to destroy Jameson, to sell his deepest secrets, and there was no line they wouldn’t cross to do it.
Gray grabbed the startled man by the shirt, then threw him against the fence. The photographer grunted as he crashed into the heavy bars, his camera swinging wildly off his shoulder. Gray grabbed it by the strap, tearing it away before he dropped it to the ground and crushed it beneath his boot.
“Private property,” Gray said, then stomped on the camera again, satisfied by the crunch. “You must be lost.”
The photographer stood up to full height again. He was bigger than Gray realized at first, with a solid mass behind his muscles and a square jaw. “That was my best fucking camera,” he growled.
Normally, that was right about the moment when Raiden would lunge at the guy, and Gray would have to jump on his best friend to stop things from getting ugly.
Except now Gray didn’t have his guys. There was no one to get his back, no one to grab him if he made a bad decision. He had to take care of things himself, and that meant playing smart.
“There’s nothing to see here,” Gray said through gritted teeth. “If you want a story, you’re wasting your time.”
The man smoothed down his jacket, then chuckled, clearly not bothered at all by Gray. “Whatever you say, champ. See you soon, I’m sure.”
The smirk on his face was so fucking rich; that alone could have made Gray snap. But then the photographer turned around to climb himself back over the fence. He hitched himself up in the air and left his ass just hanging there, like a piñata or something. “And tell Justin Sweet I send my love,” he added over his shoulder.
Gray swung his boot back, then sent it flying with a satisfied thump against the photographer’s rear. “Get your paparazzi ass out of here!” he hollered, then burst out laughing as the man yelped and climbed like he had hell chasing after him. “And don’t you fucking think about coming back!” he added, landing one more swift kick on the man’s rear as he disappeared up and over the fence.
Gray shoved his hands in his pocket, fuming as he stomped back toward the house. The spikes on the top of the fence looked intimidating, but it seemed like they were going to need an upgrade. At least he knew the alarm system was working properly. If he was going to secure the space that Jameson needed, he couldn’t let a single intruder through.
He rounded the corner back to the house, then paused beside a small stone path to the side. Curled around, not too far from his house, an old firepit sat, surrounded by wooden benches that were built into the hillside. It clearly hadn’t been used in ages, but it explained the piles of wood kept beside the guest house.
Gray rubbed the back of his head, staring at the firepit. He turned up to glance the mansion, then back to the spot, with that cozy-looking bench and the clear view of the sky above.
“Fuck it,” he grumbled, then headed toward the main house. “It’s not like I’ve got anything else going on.”
JAMESON
“Did he have a beard?” Jameson asked. He tightened his jacket, then stepped a little closer to the fire’s warmth. “If he was a big guy with a beard and with really bushy eyebrows, then he works for the supermarket tabloids.”
“Bushy eyebrows for sure,” Gray answered with a nod. “Really gross ones. Like he needed a weedwhacker.”
Jameson laughed with a nod. The public persona he had developed would never insult someone’s appearance, but he was allowed to laugh along when Gray made the joke for him.
