Wild About The Bodyguard (3 page)

“
Anniversary’s next month,” he said absently, studying the
target. He hadn’t paid a visit to the range in months, still…was he
really
that
rusty?

“
How do you
want to celebrate?” Tessa asked.

“
Free drinks
and entertainment until twelve. Throw in a worthwhile door prize. A
weekend at a luxury resort maybe.”

“
I was
thinking bigger. More diverse. What would you say to inviting wives
and girlfriends in for the evening? Make it a party with
partners?”

He slid over a
sceptical look. “This place is men only, remember?”

“
Aside from
some staff,” Tessa pointed out.

Of course.
“Within this complex, our patrons don’t have to watch what they say
or how they say it. Nothing against the fairer sex, but reality is
The Don is gender exclusive for guests. High-paying, more often
than not,
high-profile
guests. If those lines get blurred, there goes our advantage.
Where other clubs are bending the rules, that longstanding point
sets us apart.”

In the
bequest, the previous owner had been clear: the establishment was
facing financial challenges. He’d given Chase his blessing if he
chose to sell it on. Chase had stuck with it. He was determined to
see it through.

He raised the
replica, took aim again, but Tessa’s next question broke his
focus.

“
Chase, do
you enjoy running this place?”

“
Why?”

She eyed the
fake firearm as if to say,
You need to
ask?

He twirled the
trigger around a finger, Old West style. “You know this is
something I do to unwind, like some people throw darts. Play
poker.” Heading over, he grinned. “Do crosswords.”

“
Difference
is I never solved puzzles for a living. It’s not, you know…a part
of me.”

He opened the
bottom draw with a toe and dropped the toy back in its bed. “I
don’t want my former life back, if that’s what you mean.” Casing
sleazy haunts. Catching cheating spouses. Risking his life to close
some ring.

His thoughts
skipped track and threw up an image—a ruby encased by gold lips. He
shook his brain.
Not that kind of
ring
.

“
That’s all
in the past,” he said, shutting the drawer firmly with the sole of
his shoe.

“
I didn’t
mean to bring up bad memories. It’s just sometimes…” Looking
uncomfortable, she pushed to her feet, tried to smile. “Forget I
spoke.”

The former
owner had hired Tessa. She was intelligent.
Mindful
...unlike Samantha Mayne who,
it seemed, rushed in where angels might fear to tread. He felt for
her, but when he’d shown Samantha the door, he’d warned her not to
come back. He understood how fucked up it was to have a wrong go
unchecked. Still, for her sake, he hoped she left well enough
alone. No one wanted to piss off an ex judge like Garfield,
including the police department it would seem.

“
We’ll talk
about the anniversary another time,” Tessa said, heading for the
door. “Why don’t you have the rest of the day off? I’ll take care
of things here.”

Those figures
on the desk caught his eye. He would kill to keep from going
cross-eyed going over those columns. That wasn’t an option. He
walked to the desk, dragged in his chair.

“
I have work
to do.”

“
Bet you’d
rather be working on your renovations. You got the deal of the
century when you picked up that place.”

Tessa had seen
some early shots when he’d first moved in. Grinning, Chase pulled
those pages over. “I’ve poured a lot of time and money into it
since then.”

“
It must look
like a palace by now.” She stopped by the door. “You’ll have to
invite me around sometime to check it out.”

He took in
Tessa’s pristine appearance. Never a hair out of place. “I don’t
picture you as a fan of sawdust and half-repaired
bathrooms.”

As she headed
out, he heard her faint reply.

“
You’d be
amazed at what I like.”

Once a week,
Sammy did the books for a well-known tattoo parlour,
Just a Prick.

She’d met
proprietor Laycee Hall two years ago at a nightclub opening, along
with Laycee’s real life
Magic Mike
buddy, Jay Scott. Back then, Laycee had not long
opened her doors. A talented artist and dedicated to her work, word
of mouth soon spread. The downside was all the additional
paperwork. That’s where Sammy had come in.

Her heart was
set on acting—performing—but cracking the big time was as much a
matter of luck and connections as talent. As a back-up, she’d
studied accounting and economics at college. Now, while she learned
lines and auditioned, part-time jobs like this helped to pay
bills.

As she moved
out from the parlor’s backroom and office, Sammy spotted Laycee
beside a chair starting work on Jay’s arm. It was after hours, so
the place was otherwise empty. Both friends knew the background
surrounding the theft of the ring and, more recently, her enquiries
to the police. They’d also heard her idea about infiltrating The
Don. They’d said she was insane. So, she’d kept quiet about her
covert visit there three days ago.

But now
frustration was eating Sammy alive. She needed to spill. Needed
advice.

“
I did it,”
she said, pulling up a regular chair.

“
Did what?”
When Laycee studied Sammy’s unrepentant expression, her jaw
dropped. “Oh, God. You
didn’t
.”

“
I got inside
The Don,” Sammy confirmed. “I got close to Garfield,
too.”

“
And they let
you out on bail?” Jay joked while Laycee sent over a sympathetic
smile.

“
What
happened, hon?”

Sammy relayed
the story from go to whoa, including how into the whole detective
scene The Don’s centerfold boss had been. As far as she was
concerned, he was dying to help but wouldn’t.

“
Going in
undercover like that… I’ll hand it you,” Laycee said, setting Jay’s
stencil aside. “You sure got a pair.”

“
By the
sounds of that shower scene, your club boss has a decent set, too.”
Jay was studying the heart and dagger outline waiting on his left
arm, ready for stage two. He sat back, grinned, and actually
sounded psyched. “I’m really feeling this. Absolutely. I
am.”

Laycee
mumbled, “You will be soon.”

During the
day, Jay was a law student. At night, he totally smashed it on
stage. He spent good time and energy making sure his assets were
kept in awesome shape. He’d never had an opinion on ink before,
other than to say the process must hurt like a bitch. Laycee and
Sammy had gone into shock when he’d announced he was ready to join
the masses and get his first tat.

Laycee was
asking Sammy, “Don’t suppose the club guy asked for your
number.”

On so many
levels, “
As if.
I
looked him up on the website,” Sammy said. “His name’s Chase Wild.
He is exactly what a private investigator slash bodyguard ought to
be.”

Laycee arched
a brow. “Bet he’d be fun between stake-outs.”

When Laycee
and Jay shared a look, Sammy rolled her eyes. Why those two didn’t
get over the drama and simply admit they were into each other on a
more than friends level, she had no clue. If
she
were ever that interested in
someone, she sure as hell wouldn’t mouse around. Trouble was that
there simply weren’t that many good ones to choose from. For too
long, no one had inspired or excited her too much that
way.

Excluding
Chase Wild, of course…

“
Hey.
Sammy?”

She blinked.
Jay had said something?

He repeated
the question. “This Wild character said he wouldn’t help,
right?”

“
He says he
wants nothing to do with it. But that’s more about not wanting to
get Hector Garfield off side, like the rest of the world.” Her gaze
landed on the filled ink caps and she grinned. “You’d like his tat,
Laycee. Original sin. When his shoulder moves, the snake
sways.”

Laycee’s
blood-red lips curved. “Nice.”

“
Who’s he
like? The Mentalist or more James Garner, Rockford Files?” Jay was
a TV tragic.

“
Well, his
hair is dark,” Sammy said, smiling as she thought back, “and there
was a certain gleam in his blue eyes when he asked all those
questions. The color is amazing. It kind of shifts and shines like
ribbons of lake water under full moonlight.”

Laycee reached
for her machine. “I definitely need to meet this man.”

Chase was
definitely worth meeting. And he’d given her food for thought.
“Maybe I could hire my own P.I.”

“
Those guys
want up-front fees, expenses paid,” Jay said. “Of course, you could
take up my offer to dance a night or two a week…bring in some big
bucks.”

“
I love you,
Jay,” Sammy said, “but no.”

Jay had seen
her routine with a pole; she’d perfected it for a big part in a
sitcom she’d missed out on getting by a whisker. Jay had said if
she ever wanted a spot at his regular haunt to just give him a
shout. Knowing the tips Jay got stuffed down his pouch most
evenings, the offer was tempting. But her body was nowhere near as
spectacular as Jay’s. And while she loved performing, she didn’t
want to get into that particular scene.

Thinking more,
Sammy pushed to her feet. “Maybe Ann will have an idea.”

“
Thought you
said your sister didn’t want to be reminded about any of that
stuff,” Laycee said, concentrating on her start point at the same
time Jay took an extra deep breath.

“
When that
ring vanished,” Sammy explained, “Ann was just as upset as I was.
Now she’s settled, she doesn’t see any point in looking back. She
says she wants to concentrate on what’s important now.”

Ann lived in a
palace in St. Helena with her husband, a successful vintner. While
Ann and Rick had been sweethearts for over a decade, Sammy had
never warmed to her brother-in-law and vice versa. It was one of
the reasons the sisters didn’t see each other as much as they
could.

“
Maybe Ann’ll
change her mind,” Jay said, “when she knows you’re not giving
up.”

“
If you need
moral support when you speak with her,” Laycee said, “I’ll tag
along.”

“
You bet,”
Jay agreed, and then winced as that machine’s motor started up.
“Although...maybe not today.”

Poor Jay
looked pale around those handsome gills.

“
Stay
strong.” Sammy squeezed Jay’s shoulder before heading for the
door.

Over the
motor, Laycee called after her. “I wouldn’t give up on Mr. Fancy
Pants P.I. just yet. If you’re right about him itching to pin the
badge back on his shirt,” she said, bracing Jay’s upper arm and
bringing the machine’s tip close, “you won’t need to beg him for
help. He’ll come looking for you.”

Sammy was
digesting that when Laycee turned her motor off again.

No tattoo
today.

Magic Mike had
passed out.

Monday was
Chase’s day off. Time to relax. However, try as he might, he
couldn’t shake Samantha Mayne and her plight from his mind. So,
he’d made a phone call. While he waited for that contact to phone
back, he began a new project.

Thirty minutes
into it, an insistent knock at his Priest Street address
interrupted. As Chase fanned back the front door, the boys
sauntered in.

“
What’s with
the goggles?” 6’4” Taylor Wild studied the protective glasses
perched on his cousin’s head. “You sanding again, Chase? You’re
always sanding.”

The youngest
of the three single-sibling cousins, Leo announced, “We come
bearing gifts.” He offered over a cold six-pack and then frowned at
Chase’s perplexed look. “You are aware the Giants blitzed it last
night.” Leo followed Taylor toward the living room where he started
his search for the widescreen remote. “Replay starts in
five.”

“
It’s a
weekday. Why are you two playing hooky?” Chase shut the door and
tore off a can.

“
I ran into a
high school classmate last night.” Combing a hand through his dark
hair, investment extraordinaire Taylor whistled long and low. “Man,
has she changed. I didn’t get to sleep till dawn. I decided to put
my feet up for the day and simply bask in the
afterglow.”

Chase handed
Taylor over the beers. “You slept with her the first
night?”

“
She’s a
virgin.” When Chase arched a brow, Taylor ripped off a can looking
offended. “It’s true. They do exist. She’s saving herself for the
marriage bed.”

Smirking,
Chase lifted the beer to his mouth. “That counts you
out.”

“
That’s what
I keep telling myself,” Taylor groaned.