Bodyguard: Target (23 page)

Pete was as jittery as any one of the
twenty thousand Wildling fans packed into Columbus’ Nationwide Arena. Perhaps
even more so because he knew what was coming.

This time he’d managed
to get a
standing ticket and, after a fair bit of pushing and shoving, was in prime position
right beside the neck of the guitar stage. The atmosphere in the arena was highly
charged. After the tragic curtailment of the Pittsburgh show, Ash’s fans were
even more desperate to see him. Rumours had been flying that the concert would be
cancelled at the last minute and a barely suppressed
panic spread among the
audience. Some fans had even resorted to praying in groups for Ash’s delivery
on to the stage.

Thirty minutes later than scheduled, the
house lights dimmed and the countdown began.

The audience screamed in delight. Pete
enthusiastically joined in with the countdown, barely able to hear himself above the
noise. His gut tightened as the opening
explosion rumbled from the speakers and he
had to shield
his eyes from the blinding cascade of red and
gold sparks. His own heart seemed to beat in unison with the intro’s
heartbeat. Then he felt a rush of exhilaration as the winged silhouette flitted from
screen to screen before being consumed by flames.

INDESTRUCTIBLE
…
IMPOSSIBLE?
… I’M POSSIBLE!

Ash shot up
from the toaster lift and
landed on the stage.
Not as perfectly as in New York
, thought Pete,
but
still an impressive entrance.

Immediately Ash took two strides forward
before thrusting a fist into the air. ‘What’s up, Columbus!’

The audience roared their approval,
relieved and overjoyed to see their idol. After a swift, almost unconscious glance
upward, Ash struck
the opening chord to ‘Easier’ and the band kicked
in.

Pete sang along to every word. He
watched Ash dance across the stage, his eyes never wavering from his idol. Even
after a couple of shows, Pete was beginning to recognize some of his routines. But
he could tell Ash wasn’t as self-assured as in previous gigs. His performance
seemed a little ‘tight’ and every so often
the rock star would look
nervously up at the lighting rig. That was to be expected, though, considering
Pittsburgh.

Pete’s arm started itching. He
tried not to scratch the scabbing skin underneath the bandage, otherwise he’d
damage his new tattoo.

Midway through the gig a dark-haired
girl with freckles stood on his foot. She was fifteen, maybe sixteen, and
chewing gum
voraciously. She shot him an apologetic smile,
then did a double-take. The girl opened her mouth and said something. But Pete
couldn’t hear her over the noise of the band and screaming fans. He leant
closer and she shouted in his ear, ‘I said, you look just like Ash. Has anyone
told you that before?’

‘No,’ he replied, shaking
his head.

‘Well, you do!’

Pete grinned.
He’d made an
extra-special effort to resemble his hero. He’d even managed to find some
clothes that matched the ones Ash wore. And it pleased him every time some fan
mentioned the similarity.

All through the next set of songs, Pete
was aware that the girl kept sneaking peeks at him. She’d ‘bump’
against him, her bare arms touching his. With so many people crowded round,
it was
impossible not to be in contact with one another, but the girl seemed to be doing it
on purpose. He caught her eye and responded with the Ash Wild trademark smile
he’d been practising every night in the mirror. She coyly looked away, but
remained close, their bodies touching.

Halfway through Ash’s lush ballad
‘Kiss & Tell’, the girl spoke in his ear again. ‘I love
this
song. I know you’re not Ash, but –’ She put her hand on his neck
and ran her fingers through his hair. Standing on tiptoes, she drew his lips to hers
and kissed him. Pete could taste the minty freshness of her chewing gum.

Ash’s voice sang in his ears:
‘
If you kiss me, I won’t tell, cos your lips are a wishing well
…
’

As the girl
continued to neck him passionately,
Pete thought to himself that he would like
Ash’s life. He’d like it very much.

The Columbus gig proceeded without a
hitch. Although the band knew that Ash’s performance wasn’t as slick as
usual and a couple of times he missed his cues, his fans were too delirious to
notice. Over the course of the following Louisville, Nashville and Charlotte dates,
Ash’s confidence gradually returned and by the time the tour reached Atlanta,
he was fully back on form – the spotlight incident little more than a bad
memory.

But Charley hadn’t forgotten. Nor
had Big T. Security had been quietly stepped up and everyone on the team was in a
permanent
state of Code Yellow. The tour schedule was punishing: early starts, late
finishes and periods of mind-numbing inactivity followed by sudden bursts of chaos;
long journeys, multiple locations and different hotel rooms every night. After only
a week, Charley was shattered with the effects of tour fatigue. She became worried
that in her exhausted state she might make another error of
judgement, overlook a
threat or simply not react in time to an attack. Thankfully, there had been no
further incidents or threats made since Pittsburgh. But whether that was due
to the security team’s diligence or the fact that the
maniac fan was biding his or her time, they’d never know. They simply had to
stay alert, day and night, hour upon hour, minute by minute.

On arrival
at the five-star Mandarin
Oriental Hotel in Miami, Big T gave Charley her key card and a spare key card for
Ash’s suite. ‘Security-check his room, then get some rest,’ he
ordered. ‘You look knackered.’

Leaving Big T to guard Ash, Charley
headed up in the lift and found his room. This time it wasn’t ideally
positioned at the end of the corridor. But they’d block-booked all
the rooms
surrounding Ash’s to make the floor as secure as possible. Her room was
opposite. She dumped her bags, then let herself into Ash’s suite. The VIP room
was as luxurious as ever, if not more so, with its dramatic views over the
turquoise-blue waters of the Biscayne Bay.

She’d always wanted to visit Miami
and it certainly didn’t disappoint: the colourful art deco
buildings lining
the sun-kissed streets, the pure white sand of the glorious beaches and the trendy
surfside hotels packed with celebrities and wannabes. Sets of waves peeled along the
coast, beckoning to her, as surfers rode the white water into the shore. Charley was
itching to go out on a board herself but doubted she’d get the time on tour.
Perhaps, she thought, she’d ditch
the planned rest and go surfing instead. But
first she had to security-sweep Ash’s room.

Charley checked the bathroom, a spacious
marbled affair with a roll-top tub and walk-in shower. Then she
returned to the adjoining bedroom and opened the mirrored wardrobes.

‘Lost something?’

Charley spun round to find Ash at the
door. ‘No, just checking for groupies,’ she replied,
echoing Big
T’s answer.

Ash laughed. ‘Now that
would
be room service!’

He strolled in, glanced at the king-size
bed swathed in soft linens and coral-coloured throw cushions, then went to the
window and peered out at the idyllic view.

‘I haven’t finished my
security sweep,’ explained Charley. ‘It might be best if you wait in the
lobby with Big T.’

‘Don’t
let me stop
you,’ replied Ash. ‘I just needed to escape the madness
downstairs.’

‘Does Big T know where you
are?’

‘No. But I’m with you, so
I’m safe, aren’t I?’

Charley thought about insisting that he
leave. She knew the room wasn’t technically safe yet. But, like Big T, she
wasn’t employed to tell Ash what he could or couldn’t do. Besides, she
was too tired
to argue and resumed her search.

‘So, do you always have a key to
my room?’ he asked, watching her as she looked under the bed, then opened the
drawers to the bedside cabinets.

Charley nodded. ‘So does Big T. In
case of an emergency.’

As she passed Ash on her way into the
lounge area, he treated her to a roguish grin. ‘I can think of a few
emergencies.’

‘So
can I,’ replied Charley,
and pointed to the hotel map on the back of the door. ‘In case of fire, your
nearest exit is to the right, five doors down.’

In recent days,
she’d noticed Ash had returned to his usual flirtatious and slightly arrogant
self. In fact, having bounced back from his low point, he was acting even a little
hyper. She suspected he was still suffering from
shock.

‘Boy, you must be a fun
date!’ said Ash, collapsing on the bed and scattering the carefully arranged
cushions. ‘Don’t you ever relax? Let your hair down?’

‘Sure,’ Charley called from
the lounge, ‘but not when I’m on an assignment.’

‘How many assignments have you
done?’

‘This is my sixth.’

‘Six! Who were the five before
me?’ he asked.

Switching
on Big T’s bug detector,
Charley began a scan of the lounge’s furnishings and fittings. ‘Sorry,
that’s confidential information.’

‘Well, have you protected anyone
as famous as me?’

Charley rolled her eyes. ‘No, of
course not,’ she replied, holding the detector over the phone. ‘But they
were no less important.’

There was a moment’s silence, then
Ash asked, ‘Did
you keep them all safe?’

Charley thought about Sofia, the
daughter of the Colombian minister. ‘They’re all still alive, if
that’s what you’re asking.’

Having established the lounge was clear
of surveillance devices, Charley slid open the door to the balcony and stepped out.
The late-afternoon sun was warm on her skin and the light sea breeze refreshing. The
ocean was
calling to her. She glanced down at the line-up of surfers bobbing
on the water and longed to join them. A quick inspection of
the balcony confirmed that it wasn’t overlooked or easily accessible from
another room.

Ash jumped from the bed and joined her.
‘Worried that ninjas are going to attack me? We’re four floors
up!’

Charley leant over the rail and gazed
down at
the large oval swimming pool beneath, its waters glinting in the sunlight.
‘Just checking alternative escape routes,’ she half-joked. ‘You
could jump into the pool as a last resort.’

Ash looked over the balcony.
‘Well, there’s only one way to find out.’

Before Charley could stop him, Ash
vaulted over the side.

‘NO!’ cried Charley, her
heart stopping in her chest as Ash plunged to almost certain death. Gripping the
rail so tightly that her knuckles went white, she stared after the diminishing body
of the rock star. Images of newspaper headlines flashed before her eyes …
Rock Star Commits Suicide
…
Wild Leap Ends In Tragedy
… accompanied by paparazzi photos of a broken body beneath a bloodied white
sheet.

A second later, there was a distant
splash and a fountain of white water. Ash surfaced and whooped with delight. He
waved up to Charley. ‘What a rush! Your
turn!’

Charley shook her head. ‘No
way,’ she shouted back.

‘Come on! Live a
little!’

Charley was sorely tempted by the
challenge. But she knew it was utterly crazy. Four floors up and several metres of
patio to clear, there was a huge risk of missing the pool. You had to have a serious
death wish to attempt it. Nonetheless she found herself emptying her pockets,
clambering over the rail and perching on the edge.

‘Take a leap of faith,’
cried Ash.

Summoning up the
courage, Charley launched herself from the balcony. The wind whistled past her ears,
her clothes flapping madly like a flock of starlings. For a moment the azure waters
of the bay filled her entire vision. It was beautiful. Then she glanced down and saw
the patio
rushing up towards her.

She wasn’t going to make it.

Arms and legs flailing, she braced for a
bone-crushing impact … then, by some miracle, her forward momentum carried her
over the pool. She hit the water hard. All the breath was knocked from her lungs.
Her feet touched the bottom and she kicked herself back up to the surface.

‘
Whoa!
’ she cried,
the tension and tiredness
of the past week obliterated in a single mad leap.

‘Awesome, Charley!’ said
Ash, swimming up and hugging her. ‘Don’t you feel
alive
?’

Charley nodded, the adrenalin coursing
through her veins. For the first time in a long while, she felt exhilarated and
unburdened by life. ‘You’re one crazy rock star!’

‘And you’re one crazy
bodyguard,’ he shot back.

In that instant
their eyes locked and
there was an undeniable spark. Charley had no idea whether the attraction was a
result of their shared thrill-seeking experience or something deeper, but she
reminded herself that was a line not to be crossed. A bodyguard should
never
get involved with a Principal. Besides, she had Blake to think
about, didn’t she?

‘Hey, you two idiots! What do you
think you’re playing at?’

They broke away
from their gaze. A furious pool attendant stood at the edge of the pool pointing to
a sign that read:
NO DIVING!

‘Sorry,’ Ash replied.
‘Must have missed the sign on the way down.’

The two of them swam to the side and
clambered out. Dripping wet, they hurried back into the hotel and through the lobby.
There was a burst
of excitement as a group of fans behind a roped barrier spotted
Ash.

Big T came thundering over.
‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Ash! Don’t sneak off like
th–’ Then he noticed their soaking clothes. ‘What the hell have
you two been up to?’

‘We took a dip in the pool,’
replied Ash with a grin.

Big T gave Charley a hard stare, his
eyes almost bulging from
their sockets.

‘Don’t worry, I was with him
the whole time,’ she replied, edging past the mountainous bodyguard to avoid
any questions about how they’d ended up fully clothed in the pool.

Taking the lift back to the fourth
floor, they caught themselves in the mirror and burst into laughter at their
bedraggled appearance.

‘I still can’t believe you
jumped!’ said
Charley. ‘And that I followed. You scared the hell out of
me. That was a really insane stunt, you know.’

Ash shrugged. ‘Live fast, die
young, eh?’

‘Not too young, I hope,’ she
said. ‘At least not while I’m protecting you.’

Ash looked Charley
up and down. ‘Seriously, could you
really
protect me?’

Charley’s eyes hardened and her
nostrils flared. Just as she was
beginning to like him, he had to put his big foot
in his mouth and question her ability as his bodyguard – simply because she
was a girl.

‘Don’t take offence,’
said Ash, holding up his hands. ‘It’s just by comparison to Big T,
weight for weight, you don’t look like you could pack the same
punch.’

Charley squared up to Ash in the lift.
‘Take a swing at me.’

‘What?’

‘Come on! Punch me,’ she
said. ‘Or don’t you fancy your chances?’

Ash became visibly flustered. ‘No
… it’s just … I … don’t hit girls.’

Charley laughed. ‘Well,
that’s my first advantage in a fight,’ she replied. ‘Believe me, I
pack a punch and I know where to hit.’ She lowered her gaze slightly.

Ash instinctively drew back. ‘OK,
I believe you!’

The
lift pinged and the doors parted.
Ash was only too eager to step out. Charley laughed at his swift retreat. As they
turned down the corridor, a hotel employee in a maroon uniform was exiting
Ash’s room. He walked off in the opposite direction.

‘Hey!’ called Charley.
‘Can we help you?’

‘Porter,’ explained the guy,
not looking back. ‘Just brought up your bags.’

The
employee disappeared through a
service door and down the stairs.

Surprised the man
hadn’t bothered to wait for a tip, Charley followed Ash into his suite. While
he headed to the bathroom for a towel, she collected her phone and belongings from
the balcony table, along with Big T’s bug detector. She noticed she had a text
from Blake asking her to call. The message was from
his personal mobile so she knew
it wasn’t urgent or mission sensitive. But the two of them hadn’t
chatted properly in a while – the hectic tour schedule and the time difference
making it hard for them to hook up. When she was back in her room, she’d make
sure to phone him.

‘Sorry for my remark in the
lift,’ Ash called out as she pocketed her mobile. ‘I didn’t mean
–’

‘Forget it,’ replied
Charley, catching a glimpse through the open bathroom door of him taking off his
shirt. She found herself staring, admiring his toned body …
What’s
going on?
she thought. Ash wasn’t even her type. She tried to get a
grip on herself. ‘Listen … I’m just going to my room to find some
dry clothes. I’ll radio Big T to send up security.’

There was a knock
at the door.

Charley opened it. A man in a maroon
uniform greeted her with a tip of his cap. ‘Sorry to disturb you. I’m
Christian, the hotel porter. Does Mr Wild have his bags?’

‘Yes,’ she replied,
indicating the two suitcases embossed with his initials on the luggage rack.

‘Ah, good,’ said the porter,
evidently relieved. ‘I was concerned they’d been misplaced. But
it
appears your team has done my job for me. Have a nice day.’