Chapter 2

"How many timeshas he been shot at?"

Waylon Hudson wanted a Marlboro Light 100. Bad. And he hadn't smoked since high school. But there was something about this Chayce Fall job that was giving him a bad vibe. Like there was something he wasn't being told. And he hated not having all of the information he needed.

Mrs. Melinda ‘I Will Bite Your Head Off and Serve the Leftovers to My Rottweilers' Fall stared at him down her perfectly done nose. "Too many. Obviously, he needs private security. My dear friend recommended Elite. You might have heard of her. I believe she goes by Governor."

"Yes, ma'am." Shit. He needed to remember that folks like this expected him to keep his mouth shut, no matter how much he wanted the intel. He wasn't slow. He was just too damn into his job to give a shit about rich folks and their protocols. "I just need to know if there's been an identified threat, or if I'll be looking into who's after him."

"If there has been, my son has decided to keep it from me. He doesn't want to stress me out." The air quotes were accompanied by an eye roll. "He seems to believe I'm delicate in some way."

His lips curved in a wry grin. "You do have a lovely illusion going on, ma'am." There was nothing delicate about this lady, from her too-big jewels to her too-white teeth.

She snorted, her green eyes twinkling. "I like you. I'm made of Teflon, son. Trust me. My son has a cut on his face. The media will see. I do not approve."

"Oh, I trust you, ma'am. All the way. I'll look into it with my main eye to positioning him to be safe at all times." Lord save his happy ass.

"Good. I did not watch him survive flinging himself off the back of bulls to have him gunned down singing silly songs about rodeo." She waved a beringed hand. Jesus, she had to have wrist muscles like a gorilla. "And his security now are all local men, none of them true professionals."

"Understood." He'd heard all of Chayce's discography, and after four albums, he was climbing the charts with every release. Traditional country was making a comeback thanks to the popularity of a few western TV shows, and it was good to see. Especially since his name was Waylon. "When do I meet him?"

"He's due downstairs in five minutes for lunch. He didn't get in until incredibly late. He almost missed the cake cutting due to the incident. He has a room here, of course, but he mainly stays at his house up in the mount?—"

"Se?ora! Se?ora, Mister Chayce is no esta aqui!" An older woman trotted into the room, her face red with the effort. She waved her hands in the air as if that was going to make Chayce appear.

He reckoned that was the housekeeper, and she seemed a little fluttery and panicked.

Shit. Chayce had disappeared already? How far could he go on this damn ranch? It was the size of some small countries.

Waylon looked at Mrs. Fall, knowing if anyone had a bead on her son, it would be her. She was sharp. "Where would he be?"

She rolled her eyes, her fake eyelashes leaving shadows on her mostly-invisible eyebags. "He's either in with the horses or the dogs, I guarantee it. He just can't stay where he's meant to be."

"Then I'll go have a look-see." He wasn't gonna crowd the guy here at his home, but at the same time, if someone was shooting at the man at shows, he needed a set of eyes on him. And that was Waylon's job. Stay with the primary. Period.

"Good. Until further notice, you crawl up his ass and protect him. He's not allowed to fire you. You're not on his payroll." She winked at him, but underneath the glibness was a real concern for her son, and he admired her for just taking the bull by the horns, so to speak.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll remind him about lunch." She did seem to want to see her kid, too, so why not be pushy about that one thing? That way Chayce could have more freedom around the place. Mommas got what they wanted, no matter who they had to shout at.

He headed outside. Waylon had oriented himself last night with maps and aerial pictures on the flight in, so he had a good idea of the lay of the land. And he'd been chosen for this job partly because he'd grown up on a ranch, so he wasn't stupid about animals. If he ended up in the wrong pasture, things could go very wrong in a big old hurry.

From what he understood, Chayce had a home in Colorado, a hidey-hole in Santa Fe and another one up in Maine, but that he spent a ton of downtime on his mother's ranch, playing cowboy. And why not? This place had all the comforts. The house was… damn. Like something out of a TV show. Dallas, maybe. Or Yellowstone. There was a lot of wood and whiskey and antlers and money. It all smelled like money.

He assumed both dogs and horses would be at or near the barns, and he was rewarded with being right. There was a group of cowboys hooting and laughing out by a corral, and in the ring was one of the top-rated country singers on earth, riding a big, gray bull.

Not the most energetic bull on earth, but that was probably a good thing. It was still a massive old brahma, and Waylon put that on the list of things they needed to discuss when he told Chayce he had a new bodyguard. No more trying to get himself killed when someone else was happy to do it for him.

The crowd around him was hooting and hollering as he jumped off, and Waylon saw at least three guys filming it, the ever-present cowboy accessory of a smart phone in full array.

Christ on a sparkly purple crutch, this man… Where was his regular security team? His assistant? He was supposed to have all of those things, even at his mom's house.

Waylon slid into the crowd, working his way through, silent and pretty much unnoticed. He was just another cowboy hat, and he wasn't jostling to take pictures or hooting for Chayce to go the eight seconds.

At the shout of eight, Chayce bounced off the bull, landing ass-first in the dirt. Then Chayce popped up and brushed his butt off, those mossy green eyes laughing at them all. "Okay, y'all. Pay up. I won the damn bet."

"C'mon on, boss…one more ride? Double or nothing?"

"Like I know y'all won't video it all and sell the footage. You're getting your pound of flesh. Put your money up." He held out a hand, and the guys slapped bills into it.

Waylon smiled, picking Chayce out of the crowd like he was a steer and Waylon was a cutting horse. The guy didn't even realize it until they were walking away, he didn't think.

Then he got a sideways look, the expression on Chayce's face way more knowing than he would have expected. "Where we headed?"

"Your momma wants to see you for lunch," Waylon replied. "She sent me on a mission to find you."

"You one of her new guys? I haven't met you yet." Chayce grinned at him, and damn, this son of a bitch sparkled. Just fucking shone with joy and charisma, topped with a gimme cap that read Fall Oil, blond curls just barely peeking out around the edges. The cut though, that sliced right across one razor sharp cheekbone, that was just wrong. That didn't belong there. "First thing you need to know is she lies. I am not seventeen still."

"I have your dossier." He let himself smile back. Let himself. Shit. He couldn't help it, and wasn't that irritating as hell. "And I'm usually the soul of discretion. I'm just here to keep you from getting shot again. But I wouldn't put it past your momma to take a pot shot at you for missing your first meal back."

"I had breakfast in the kitchen this morning. She assumed I slept in. Victor made me an omelet. He's got a good touch."

"Yeah? I'll keep that in mind." To be fair, Chayce walked along with him, clearly willing to go to lunch, which kind of surprised him. He'd expected a brat. This guy read way more easy in his skin.

"Trust me, Victor can make or break you with her. Just kiss up to him. It'll make your life easier."

A huge dog started galloping across the yard, howling like he was coming for their souls.

Was that a wolfhound? Seriously?

The dog hit Chayce hard enough that he rocked backward on his bootheels. "H-hey, Bubbles! How are you?"

"Good lord. He yours?" Waylon stared. That was a lot of drool. And hair. And dirt. Not that he couldn't handle all that, but damn.

"Yep. When we ride on the bus, he comes with, but he hangs with Momma a lot when I'm flying. He's good for her. Usually, she just has purse dogs around."

"He's huge." He'd never seen a dog that big, and he'd had Pyrenees.

"He's friendly. You might as well get to know him. Bubbles. This is…"

"Waylon."

There was that wicked grin again. "Like Jennings? Too cool."

"For all I know, I got picked for this job just for that." It was a joke. Kinda. Maybe not. Who the hell knew with his employers. Employer. Whatever.

"Job?" Chayce's head tilted like he'd heard a whistle. "What do you mean?"

"I'm your new bodyguard, Chayce. Your momma isn't happy with your current team." What had Chayce thought he meant?

Chayce stopped, one hand on the dog's back, and he blinked, then the laughter started, pure music. "What? Oh, fuck. I thought you were one of Momma's boy toys. My current team is cute and enthusiastic. They're good guys. You'll fit in with them." Okay, that was unexpected. He'd imagined a temper tantrum, a fit, a complaint, but no.

"Cute…" No one had ever associated that word with him before. Huh. "Well, uh, thanks."

"Sure. Have you met Chris? He's my assistant. He'll get you set up and all in the rotation. Tall skinny bald dude? Looks a little like Lurch?"

"I have not. I'll check in with him, but I'm not in a rotation. I'm your shadow until the imminent threat is taken care of." Might as well start out like he could hold out, get the guy used to the idea.

"Okay, but that's going to get exhausting. I won't tell on you if you slack." He got a wink, then the green eyes went wide. "Man, you get shot at a couple times…"

"It does tend to make people worry." Okay, so Chayce was far and away from the spoiled, entitled asshole he'd expected.

"So, seriously. Talk to Chris. He'll introduce you to the guys —I think there are three for the tour, maybe?—and slot you in."

"Mmm." He kept it noncommittal as he opened the door to the big house, letting Chayce precede him. He wasn't on a rotation. He got paid to be there. Period.

The momma bear was right there, eyes flashing. "Where were you? You were supposed to meet me for lunch."

"Hey gorgeous." Chayce took her hand and kissed it. "I'm only a few minutes late."

"You're dusty."

"That happens when you play in the dirt, Momma."

"Well, what are you doing rolling around in the mud?" She was smiling, though, clearly ready to kiss and make up.

"Playing cowboy, as I do. So you hired me another bodyguard? You know I have a team, right?"

Mrs. Fall's eyes rolled like thrown dice. "I do. This company is exclusive. Highly recommended. Your team is shit, son."

"Mother! Language!" Chayce rolled his eyes and wrung his hands, playful and teasing.

"Well, it's true." She waved Chayce to a chair, and Waylon slid into one that sat back by the wall.

"Have you had lunch?" Chayce asked, swiveling to stare right at him.

"No, sir. I flew in on the red-eye." And he'd listened to Chayce's momma for a good hour.

Chayce blew his lips like a fractious horse. "Well, come on and sit, Mr. Waylon. Everyone deserves to eat, right?"

"Of course." Mrs. Fall raised her eyebrows at him. "We don't stand on ceremony."

"And we rarely starve folks." Chayce's smile was wicked. "Well… sometimes she starves Chris."

"Chris deserves it." Mrs. Fall sniffed, a very ladylike sound. Then she guffawed, and that made him laugh.

"She's prejudiced. He's my stepbrother from my dad's third marriage." They both laughed together then, and he had to admit, these two were… strange bugs.

Waylon just put on a polite smile, but he did like them, oddly enough. That would make his job easier. It sucked to think his boss was a dick.

A young woman came in with a platter of tacos, along with bowls of salsa, guacamole, and sour cream. "Mr. Chayce."

"Hey, Zee. You doing okay?"

"I'm good. Staying busy. Taking classes." She grinned at Chayce, obviously proud. "I got an A in my poli sci class."

"Good deal. That's a tough one. Lots of stuff to remember, and lots of nuance."

"Yeah, but I'm loving it too, so… thanks for everything. You rock." She gave Chayce a one-armed hug.

"No problem, kiddo."

So had Chayce paid for this kid's college?

"Would you like iced tea, Mr. Hudson?" Mrs. Fall asked. "Or Coke?"

"Iced tea would be great, thank you."

"I'll get that," Zee said after leaving the tray on the table.

Mrs. Fall gave her son a glare that read pure alligator. "You spoil her."

"Yep. Most fun ever."

Mrs. Fall rolled her eyes. "I swear, you are a menace."

"Yep." Chayce said it easily, and it was clear they had this discussion a lot.

"What do you have next? Can you stay a bit?" After all the banter, this was the question that mattered to her. Any fool could see it.

"Just until Thursday. Then I'm heading out for eight weeks, twenty-four shows."

"Eight whole weeks?"

"Yes, ma'am. You know that sold-out tour? That's me." Chayce grabbed a taco, slathering it with salsa.

"Oh." She pressed her lips together. "Well, can I get you to commit to supper Wednesday night?"

"Sure. I'd love to." Easy as that. Just sure.

It was impossible not to respect this guy.

"Thank you." She beamed, looking ten years younger, and suddenly Waylon could see why Chayce had thought Waylon might be her new boy toy. She was an attractive woman. She didn't do it for him.

Not like her son did. That way was madness, though, so Waylon shut it down.

"Eat up, man. Those tacos don't eat themselves."

"Thank you." He took a plate, loading up.

Chayce's phone started blowing up, and the man sighed. "It's Chris. I bet the police want to talk to me about last night…"

"Tell him to set a time this afternoon," Waylon said. "I want to chat with you about it." He needed to know what had happened, and he also wanted to coach Chayce some.

"Yeah? I mean, I didn't do anything wrong by leaving, right? I had to get home."

"Of course you didn't, son. You didn't shoot anyone." That woman was pure haught. Was that a word? Haught. Waylon reckoned it had to be. If she could be haughty, she could have haught.

Some haught.

Whatever.

"Right." Chayce nodded, then sent a flurry of texts rather than answer the phone. "Okay, I have a call at three."

"Good. That'll work." Waylon munched his taco, humming at the taste of the salsa. That was good shit.

Chayce ate quickly, but the man's mind was elsewhere, and he stood before everyone else was finished. "Love you, Momma. I'm going to get some work in. Mr. Waylon, I told Chris to get you on the schedule, but he needs your contact info. I'll be in my studio."

"Sure." And he would be right outside the studio, wherever it was, making sure no one else got in.

"Cool. Love you, Momma. Having supper with Trent and Randy tonight, possibly some beers and a jam session. I'll see you in the morning." And then the Energizer Bunny was off and running.

"Have fun. Watch out for Chris. He's a flake, but Chayce adores him."

"Thank you, ma'am." He stuffed down the rest of his taco, then followed Chayce, feeling a little like a cartoon skunk, bouncing along. This was kinda fun.

Now, once they got on tour and he was getting shot at… Well, that was when he would be useful.