NEXT TO ME (A Love Happens Novel Book 1) (2 page)

Reaching in and turning the shower handle to hot, she pushed the button for the steam feature and caught her sideways reflection in the mirror. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut didn’t change the sight that greeted her when she opened them a second later. Walking closer to the mirror, the steam just beginning to blur the surface, she touched the puckered skin on her right hip. Felt the slightly raised scar spanning almost four inches long from front to back, the ugly arcing slash still pink in its newness.

It was a cut meant not to kill, but to hurt. A permanent warning. One Ali had heeded.

“That’s why you have to do this,” she said fiercely, her body now completely obscured by the steam on the mirror. The whispered words were convincing in their desperation as she stepped into the hot shower. “It’s only sex. Sex in exchange for your freedom.”

CHAPTER TWO

Six weeks ago

She was finally free and while it came with the sweet taste of sovereignty, it was still hard for Ali to truly accept. She was free to go where she wanted, when she wanted. To make her own choices, good or bad. She could eat cereal for dinner and popcorn for breakfast. Paint her fingernails black and her bedroom scarlet red. Oh, she knew it wasn’t going to last. Not unless she took drastic measures, that was. A legal document was no more than a piece of paper, really. Hardly worth the parchment it was printed on. It held no real power outside of a courtroom.

A small shudder skittered down her spine and she swallowed back the trickle of unease. She had a deadline, she just didn’t know the date yet. But as Ali stood in the middle of a vacant and dusty, thirty-year old, white clapboard beach house, with her realtor chattering in the background about reclaimed wood floors and custom cabinetry, not to mention a million dollar view of the Pacific Ocean, Donna Gleeson Decker had handed Ali Ross the permanent key to her freedom on a silver platter.

Alright, so the platter actually held a dizzying, multi-page contract to purchase a home much too big and far too expensive for one person, but still. Ali was dramatic that way.

“What do you think, Ali? Do you like it?” Donna asked, all sunshine and light with her bright smile and perpetually chipper attitude.

It was no put on, either. Donna was one of those people who was happy all the time and Ali observed her with awe. Having spent the better part of the last week with her, touring home after home, Ali had never seen her lose her cool. With her phone and tablet constantly ringing and beeping, Donna handled her business like a boss, never being anything other than gracious and all without smudging her carefully applied coral lipstick.

Danny would hate her. And because of that, Ali loved her.

And she was damn glad that after arriving in San Diego two and a half weeks ago, armed with nothing but a large, surprise inheritance from an elderly aunt who recently passed away and a cardboard legal file full of papers that were supposed to ensure her safety and secure her future, she had noticed an advertisement on the back of a bus stop bench. It showed a beaming Donna Gleeson Decker at about two hundred percent zoom. Her slogan read,
Looking for the perfect life? Start with the perfect home!
Ali bought the sales pitch hook, line and sinker.

She had just spent the last several days traveling through nine states on four different Greyhound buses, each carrying a more undesirable element of people than the last, to get to the sunny southern California city and she was running on diet Mountain Dew, cherry licorice twists and zero sleep. Sadly, it had not been the hardest week of her life. Or the scariest. But she was in search of the perfect life and according to a smiling brunette with a blunt cut bob and stylish glasses, it started with the perfect home. Plus, she had always been fascinated by women who hyphenated their name. It felt glamorous and powerful at the same time.

After quickly writing down the phone number, painted in a bold black font on the bench, Ali had checked into a hotel. A really nice one, where the guest room doors were on the inside of the building, not the outside. And if you wanted to visit anyone staying there, you had to check in at the front desk of a tacky Tuscan themed lobby. It was manned at all times.

Ali had made sure of it.

Luckily, the hotel also had an internet lounge and she spent her first two days in town researching her options, knowing she needed to take every precaution necessary. If you couldn’t protect yourself, surely you could pay someone to do it for you, right? And the company that continually popped up on her screen was called Scorpio. Their website, which appeared intentionally vague, touted their skills honed from years of military service. They handled all things security related, from installing state of the art, impenetrable systems to guarding Hollywood starlets and professional athletes. They also provided domestic and foreign defense training, strategy consultations, and wide reaching support of all kinds, including the ability to provide special operations trained teams from all branches of the US Military for worldwide action. Equipped to handle any task from small scale local assignments to major offshore deployments requiring air and ground support, Scorpio Securities could facilitate the stability operations necessary to secure a person, people or region.

Now that just sounded bad ass.

And after having spent days thinking her situation forward and back, she decided to give it a try, calling to inquire about a possible bodyguard. It seemed like a cliche, not to mention a long shot that it would even work, but desperate times and all. A young sounding, charismatic man with a subtle midwestern accent and serious lady charm had answered the phone.

“Scorpio. This is Grady, at your service.”

Ali, taken aback by his unusual and somehow flirty greeting, and not knowing exactly how to say it, just put it on the table. “Hi. Umm, I’m looking for... Well, I guess some type of bodyguard service. Do you offer that?”

“Yes, ma’am, we sure do. What type do you need?”

What type did she need? Somebody mean and on steroids, preferably. And with a really big gun. The kind that used bullets hanging from a chain. “I’m not sure. What kind do you have?”

He laughed softly at her response, making her think she’d probably said all of that out loud. “Are you attending an event and need private security to escort you?”

“No, not that.”

“Okay. Do you need a security detail to assess a possible threat level, provide regular spot checks and prepare an escape plan should a harassing situation arise?”

“Yes. Maybe. Sort of.” Ali pretty well knew the threat level.

“Ooh-kay, now we’re cooking. Maybe. Sort of.” There was a smile in his voice. “Do you need a team of experts stationed at entrances and exits to identify potential dangers and defend the perimeter? Uh, keep the riffraff out, so to speak? And if so, do you have a timeline in mind?”

Ali took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the world. “Grady, I think what I’m actually looking for is one really good person. To watch and wait for one really bad person. Twenty-four, seven. For an indefinite amount of time.” The realization that she may never be rid of Danny weighed heavily in her tone. A bodyguard wasn’t going to keep him away. It would only anger him more. “And I’m not even sure if that’ll make him stop.”

She swore she heard the loud thump of chair legs hitting the floor.

“Ma’am, may I have your name, address and phone number, please?” His tone had gone from jovial to cautious, concerned. Grady was a sharp cookie. So was she, calling from a burner phone she’d picked up at a convenience store on the corner, the number untraceable.

“Grady. I think you know I’m not going to give you that information unless you can guarantee your company can help me.” Which he could not, Ali knew.

He paused for a second, but his voice remained confident. “We can help you. I just have to talk to the boss man. We usually only do short term watches, but in this case I’m positive we can work something out.”

Short term watches. Shit. “Okay, then. Thanks, Grady.”

Sensing she was ending the call, he quickly added, “Sam will figure this out for you, we just need to know what we’re up against. You can come in right away. He has meetings scheduled until late this afternoon, but he’ll cancel. Tell me your name and where you are. Please.”

“Thank you, Grady. For your kindness.” Ali ended the call, cutting off his next sentence, and covered her face with her hands. Nobody was around to notice the moisture wetting her palms or the slight tremble in her shoulders and that was okay with her.

Being invisible in a city of millions was exactly what she wanted.

***

“Ali? Do you like the house? It’s magnificent, isn’t it? Now, I know the walls need a fresh coat of paint and the trim could use some oil, but I think it really suits you.”

Donna’s voice was genuine. Or maybe it was just the commission talking.

Either way, the beach house did feel right, even though it wasn’t what she originally wanted. There was a sense of calmness, of peace about it. Wear and tear showed in the scuffed wood floors and cracked plantation shutters, along with the weathered exterior paint worn thin from the salty air, but it was a house that despite years of neglect, had a lot of life still in it.

Ali could relate.

“I do like it, but I’m concerned about the neighborhood. Right on the beach seems a little too exposed. Too accessible.” Donna knew that security was a deal breaker for Ali and she’d been showing her only guard gated communities because of that. As far as she knew, it was simply because Ali was a single woman wanting to be pro-active.

“Well, there is a gate at the entrance to the street, of course, but unfortunately it isn’t manned like some of the other communities we’ve looked at. The crime rate in this area is very low, though, as you can imagine in such an exclusive enclave of homes. And I’ve had my eye on this one for awhile, hoping to find the perfect buyer. I mentioned my little brother lives right next door, didn’t I?” Pushing open an entire wall of glass doors to let the scented ocean breeze in, she gestured to the house sitting not twenty feet away. Tightly spaced, the homes had open property only at the back, facing miles of white sand beach and blue water. “I love him, but he can be a menacing guy when he wants. Former Army Ranger, full of testosterone, actually likes going to the gym.” She rolled her eyes. “You know those Alpha types. There’s no need for a neighborhood watch with him around.” She hitched a finger over her shoulder, in the general direction of next door, as she wandered around the open main level, debating aloud whether a sectional would fit better than a sofa and loveseat.

Ali’s wheels were turning the second she heard Army Ranger and she casually pimped Donna for more information. “That sounds impressive. What does he do now?”

“He owns a security firm. Seems to do pretty well, although he grumbles about dealing with the celebutantes now and then. You know, the high maintenance ones famous for being famous. In my day all a sex tape got you was a grainy view of your artificial tan and a bad reputation.” She grinned, as if she had first hand experience, and continued her perusal of the large living room. “Women have always come easy for him, but thankfully Sam hates the vapid ones. Come look at this gorgeous chiseled travertine on the fireplace. It’s original to the house and was brought in from Italy. Now I know it’s wood burning and you prefer gas, but I think we could easily have it retro-fitted without too much demolition or cost. Wouldn’t that be perfect on a chilly winter night?”

A security firm. Sam.

“The fireplace is lovely. What’s the name of his company?”

“Who? Sam’s?” At Ali’s nod, she said, “Scorpio Securities. They can install an updated system for you. The one currently in place may be adequate, but you’ll definitely want to have it inspected. It will lower your insurance premiums, too. The windows are all double pane and the kitchen and bathrooms recently remodeled. You can see that no expense was spared. And did I mention the stainless steel appliances are included?”

“I’ll take it.”

Donna’s eyes widened at Ali’s quick decision, but she reached for her tablet immediately, nearly tripping over herself to seal the deal. “Terrific! You’re gonna love this place, Ali. Now the asking price is a bit above the area comps, so in my opinion the property is overpriced. What do you think you want your starting offer to be?”

“Full price. In cash.” Ali stepped out onto the porch, glancing not at the spectacular view of the water, but at the modern home next door before turning back to Donna. “But I need to be in immediately. The sooner, the better.”

***

Sam Gleeson. Co-Owner and Domestic Operations Manager for Scorpio Securities, Inc. Age thirty-five. Graduated West Point. Former Army Ranger and Sniper in the 75th Regiment. Those were the bullet points highlighted in the biography on his company website. The only thing it didn’t say was overachieving bad ass with a fully functioning brain. Oh, and what was wrong with him. Because no man was as perfect in real life as this guy appeared to be on paper.

By the time her offer on the house was accepted and Donna
Gleeson
Decker had called to give her the good news, Ali had hatched a completely unrealistic and ill-conceived plan. But before she went any further, there were a few more answers she needed regarding the allusive and unknown Sam Gleeson.

“I forgot to ask you about kids. Are there a lot of kids in the neighborhood?”

Donna hesitated. “I’m not sure, Ali. I didn’t know that was an issue for you.”

It hadn’t been. Until now. “I was just wondering if the neighbors had kids that might be running around, riding their bikes or skateboards. And is it more single people or married? You know, wife and two-point-five kids kind of thing?”

Donna quickly replied, “I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

Her phone, still a burner, rang not ten minutes later.

“I checked with Sam. He says he never sees kids running around. Dogs, though, so I hope that’s okay. They’re supposed to be on a leash, but you know how that goes.”

“How about married couples?” Now she just sounded like an idiot, but Jesus, how many ways did she have to ask if he was attached or not?