CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

RYDER

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I'm trying to recall what the jail term for shooting a celebrity between the eyes is while he's dining in a Manhattan restaurant. And where I'd like to spend my final years if I can escape American soil.

I think Columbia could be nice.

It's a dangerous place, but then so is the woman sitting several feet from me laughing with the celebrity I'd like to kill.

Nick has touched Savannah seven times this evening. Seven unnecessary times.

I've watched as she's opened up to him and expressed how unhappy she's feeling. I hate that he's the one consoling her and making her smile.

I'm trying really hard to remember I'm simply her bodyguard.

That's all.

One day she's going to be on a date and I'm going to watch her fall in love. Right in front of me.

Well, fuck that.

What is it with this woman? I don't give a shit that she's a celebrity. She could have been some random woman attending a wedding. From the moment I saw her...

She doesn't understand. I cannot kiss her. I cannot be with her.

And by the looks of things, she doesn't care.

She's already moved on.

My focus needs to be on keeping her safe and working with the Black Hawke team to see if we can identify who this stalker might be.

The latest note regarding her DNA was fucked up. The offender took her panties. So far, we have no match on fingerprints or handwriting.

Our tech guys hacked the police database so we could keep the information out of the media. There is always a leak when it comes to high-profile clients. Someone like Savannah is worth too much.

The media pays good money which would put some cop's kids through college.

None of us expected the note to return any information, but it was worth a shot. Still, it was a disappointment.

At this point, I'd like to find out who it is and then get off this job. Liar, you'd lose your mind if you weren't with her every day.

Fucking hell.

Aidan's advice was to keep monitoring it and wait for the team to get back to us on the background and activity checks they're doing on her team.

Gina is someone I'm watching, even if it does just seem like she is a jealous ex-friend with a crush on a man who is way out of her league.

In saying that, I followed Gina this afternoon, and she went to Nick's room.

Did he invite her? Are they sleeping together?

Or was she delivering something for Savannah?

I just don't know.

It's easy to make assumptions, but I'll piece it all together eventually.

Does that make Gina guilty if she is sleeping with Nick? No. In fact, if she is, then—and as a man, I can almost certainly confirm he won't be interested in her for long because I've watched their dynamics—she has no motivation to blackmail Savannah.

Although she hasn't asked for anything yet.

Just threatened.

If it's her.

Luis is an interesting one. Far too quiet for my liking. He lurks in the shadows. He's nervous around me.

Then there is Nick. It could be him.

Just because it doesn't make sense doesn't mean it's not him. He could be scaring her...driving her into his arms. If Savannah has been telling the truth, and she hasn't slept with her co-star, then I'm watching a man who is keen to change that status.

Has she lied?

I grind my back teeth and Savannah pushes her chair back and stands. I follow her through the restaurant to the restrooms. When we hit the hallway, she turns.

"You can stay here. I'm fine." Her voice is soft and a little sad, despite laughing just moments ago. I walk right up to her, and her face lifts in question.

"What's going on?" I ask roughly.

"I'm going to the restroom," Savannah says and starts to turn her head toward the door to indicate it, but my hand cups her face.

She frowns and those green globes of hers are confused but wild. She's a little drunk. More than just a little after two bottles of champagne.

"You going to kiss me, bodyguard?" she purrs.

Jesus.

"Or are you too scared?"

I lift my brow and feel my body demand that I take her. Fuck her. Kiss whatever part of her delectable body she wants.

"No, ma'am," I gruff.

"No, you won't kiss me, or no, you aren't scared?" she asks and juts out her hip.

"Both," I growl deeper.

She wobbles a little bit, and my hands steady her hips. I hold her like she's a bomb about to explode.

She might be.

Or perhaps I am.

"You like touching me." Savannah smiles.

Goddamn her.

"So does your date," I say before I can stop myself.

"Are you jealous?" She grins, her eyes lighting up.

"I am your bodyguard," I ground out, reminding us both.

A man steps out of the men's restroom, and I take a step back. When he passes, Savannah presses against me and flattens her hands on my chest. "Come inside with me and make me come."

Jesus Christ.

"Savannah, you need to get back out to your date. Then I'm taking you home." I close my eyes and then open them, because yeah, angry sex and fucking her up against the restroom sink sound perfect right now.

She slumps, rejected, like a little girl. "He's the only one who gets me. The only one who cares."

What?

Savannah spins and pushes into the restroom.

The only one who cares? Nick? Fuck that.

He is trying to get into your panties, you beautiful little idiot.

I use the restroom at the same time and find her walking down the hallway when I return. She glances over her shoulder but ignores me and returns to the table.

Before she sits down, she says, "You can go if you like. Nick's bodyguard is here. He can see us home."

Us?

The fuck is she doing?

"Absolutely. Head home man," Nick says, leaning back in his chair and winking at me.

Wow. Pretty sure the sentence would be like fifteen years. Maybe twenty-five.

I'm going to google it.

I'm young. I'm a former Delta operator. I'll survive in a maximum-security prison.

Hell, I could fucking escape one.

It would be worth it.

I've never liked his acting, anyway.

Lies. I do, but I hate that he thinks he can touch Savannah and worse, that she's letting him.

"I'm not going anywhere." I say, taking a few steps away and crossing my arms.

Savannah sits down and sneers at me, then claps her hands. "More champagne."

––––––––

TWO HOURS LATER we leave. Instead of going separate ways, Nick insists he walk Savannah back to her hotel room.

Which is my job.

But that's not the point. Instead of climbing into the bullet-fucking-proof vehicles, she's looped her arm through his and they're wandering along the streets of Manhattan, causing a huge stir.

Savannah Sinclair and Nick Marciano.

Nick's guard and I share frustrated looks, then do our best to keep them safe while fans surround them and ask for photos and autographs.

It begins to get out of hand.

"Savannah. We're not equipped for this. We need four more men." I lean into her ear. "I can't protect you out here."

She should have fucking warned me. I have two BHS men in New York, but they are in their hotel rooms because we didn't need them.

I could call for backup but I'm hoping she will get in the damn car.

"Please stand back. Get back." I hear Nick's guard grunting.

Nick sends a smirk this way. "You've got this. Right, big man?"

I don't react.

If this cunt thinks he can rattle me when I've seen things that would make his little manicured toes curl, he's got another thing coming.

The crowd continues to get bigger and out of control, despite it being almost midnight. But this is the city that never sleeps.

Nick leans in and kisses Savannah's cheek for a photo and I'm done.

I wave out to the driver, and he climbs out and opens the door while I nudge Nick out of the way and lift Savannah over my shoulder.

"What are you doing?" she cries, wrapping her arms around my neck as I carry her to the car.

That's more like it.

"The hell man!" Nick follows.

"Get in." I say, and his guard physically pushes him as people close in on us.

"Fucking hell." The guy grunts and I slap his back.

"Good job, man. See you back at the hotel." I say and he climbs into Nick's vehicle, giving me a nod.

Nick and Savannah settle into the back like two drunk teenagers, and the last thing I see before closing the door is Nick wrapping his arm around her.

I'm going to kill him.

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SAVANNAH

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"THAT WAS SO much fun. I almost felt normal." I giggle as we walk down the corridor to my penthouse suite.

"Normal with hundreds of fans screaming and taking selfies with you?" Nick laughs, his hand sliding down my back.

"Just walking down the road, not caring. I know we got ambushed, but it would've been worse in LA."

I hear a mumble behind me.

Ryder.

He's furious with us. Nick has already told me I need to replace him. I don't want to replace Ryder. I want him to kiss me.

I'm hurt that he won't.

Clearly he just wanted a notch on his bedpost called I fucked Savannah Sinclair and now he's just doing his job. He doesn't care.

Only Nick cares.

I realize I'm drunk and that might not be true, but it feels like it is right at this moment.

"Let me take you somewhere we aren't recognized, then we can wander around, swim, vacation, and no one will care who we are."

I turn as we stop outside my door.

"Really, where?" I ask, having to look up because he's closer than I expected.

Has Nick always been this tall?

"I'll do a sweep," Ryder says, stepping between us and knocking Nick.

"Dude, come on!" Nick cries.

Ryder turns, lifts a brow, and looks at me. "Stay there."

"Who is this guy?" Nick asks me.

"My bodyguard." I shrug and giggle. "Now tell me where this place is that no one will recognize us."

"Tons of places." He cups my face.

What is he doing?

"Say you'll come away with me and I'll surprise you." His thumb brushes over my lips.

"Nick..." I'm suddenly not okay with this.

"Invite me in," he says and my mouth parts.

"All clear," Ryder says, stopping right—and I mean right—in front of us.

It's like your father showing up in the doorway threatening your boyfriend. His dark and deadly eyes are locked on Nick. Then they turn on me.

"Say goodbye," he orders me.

"Seriously dude, can you not see what is happening here?" Nick says, annoyed.

Ryder doesn't glance away.

If it was any other member of my staff, I'd be pissed, but I've had way too much champagne and my brain is fuzzy. Plus, Nick was making me uncomfortable, so I don't mind the interruption.

Still, Ryder shouldn't be doing this.

Neither should Nick.

Say goodbye.

"I should go," I say, dragging my eyes away from his beautiful blue globes and back to Nick's. "Call me when you're back in LA."

Nick purses his lips and glares at Ryder.

Ryder is still looking at me.

Leaning down, Nick kisses my cheek, shoots Ryder another furious glare, and brushes his hand over my hip as he steps away.

I watch him as he walks down the hallway, then turn to face the music.

"What was that?" I ground out.

"Funny thing. I was about to ask you the same fucking question." Ryder growls, tugs me inside, and reaches over my head to close the door.