I glared at her. “What is this,
Twenty Questions
?”
“Is it bigger than a breadbox?” She grinned, apparently not intimidated by my annoyance.
Damn, that made her all the more desirable, even if her questions were annoying me.
“I’m curious.” She shrugged. “I...well. It won’t do me any good to talk about it if you have a job lined up.
Do
you?”
“There’s always something floating around.” I kept my voice vague and glanced at the door, then the time. It was already nine. It was going to be eleven by the time I got home, even if I left now. And I wanted to get an early start tomorrow, so I needed to get out of here. “Look, I need to get going, so if you all don’t—”
“So, you don’t have anything specific lined up.” Now she looked pleased, smiling that gut-wrenching smile again. “Good. I want to hire you. For a week. I pay really
well.”
“Carly!” That came from the one I'd deemed Cash. The one without the broken arm.
Tango was more polite, but it was just as clear that he hadn't been in on Carly's offer. He moved forward, his movements easy despite the fact that I knew his arm had to be hurting like a motherfucker. I’d had my arm broken before, so I knew. “Sir...ah, I’m sorry, we never did get your name.”
I tried not to snort a laugh at the
sir
. “Call me Bobby.”
“Bob, if you—”
“Bobby,” I corrected, hardening my voice. “My name isn't Bob.” That had been
his
name, and I never went by that.
“Bobby, then,” he said easily. “We need to speak with Carly for a moment, if you don't mind.”
“No, Jake,” Carly said, and she said it with steel.
I slid her a sidelong look as she moved in front of me, arms crossed, one high-heeled foot tapping impatiently. My eyebrows went up. Was she actually putting herself between me and her security guards?
“I’m the boss, remember?”
Cash stepped up next to Tango – Jake, I corrected myself. “Carly, you put us in charge of your safety.”
When Jake spoke, I wasn't sure who was more surprised, Carly or me. “Ryan, Carly’s right. She is the boss.”
Carly gave Jake a brilliant smile and then turned to me.
“So. You don’t have anything concrete lined up for at least a week, right?”
I’d fallen through the looking glass. The rabbit hole. Whatever. Rubbing my neck, I studied her for a few seconds, and then looked around, trying to figure out just how this conversation had gone from what I'd assumed was a
thank you
scotch, to her trying to hire me. And for what, anyway?
“Look...”
“I take it that means I’m right.” She beamed, looking pleased.
Dammit she was cute. And arrogant too. It was just a little more than confident, but not so annoying that it rubbed me the wrong way. In fact, it rubbed me very much the right way.
I thought maybe about kissing her again. But then she started talking...about a job.
“So, a week, okay? We can talk wages and–”
Time to stop the crazy train
. Shaking my head, I turned away. “No. Sorry, darlin’. You can’t pay me well enough to make it worth the kind of trouble working with you – whoever you are – would bring the both of us.”
“Wanna bet?”
Her voice, cocky and confident, should have gotten on my nerves. But, instead, it was making me hard.
Yeah, she’s arrogant, alright
. I turned back to her, my gaze sliding to the smug grin on her pretty mouth. Fuck. I had to look away or I was going to keep thinking about how that mouth had felt against mine.
If she was smart, she’d stay far away from me. I could see the way all of the suits were watching me. Jake might've let her have her say, but it was clear he wasn't giving me free rein. She couldn’t tell what she was dealing with, but they
could. They saw it all over me.
So they were watching. Like they thought maybe I’d make a move on her. Like I’d ever hurt a woman. Any woman. And definitely not that one.
But I could if I wanted to. I knew how to hurt people, had once spent most of my time doing nothing but that. Then I’d been forced to do it to stay alive. I’d never hurt a woman. They wouldn’t believe that, though. They wouldn’t understand the kind of life I’d lived, the choices I’d made, the roads I’d walked. But they didn’t need to.
I didn’t care about them.
I was bothered, though, by the fact that she was being so careless, even as I was strangely drawn to the fact that she wasn’t afraid of me.
I couldn’t remember the last time somebody had talked with me about anything without giving me the side-eye, wondering if they were going to come out of the discussion intact. Even Frank and shy, nervous Candy had been jittery at first. If people didn’t act nervous, then they were hostile or aggressive, like a dog marking its territory.
Carly had asked me if I knew who she was, but now I was thinking I should have asked her a similar question:
do you know what I am?
“You haven’t asked how much I can pay you,” she said, taking another step toward me.
“Because it doesn’t matter.” I jerked a shoulder up as I shoved my hands into my pockets.
Why wouldn't she just let this go? The scotch had more than made up for her hitting me with her purse. Not to mention that kiss. I didn't need anything else from her.
“You sure?”
As a smug little smile curved her mouth, I took a step back, and allowed myself a long leisurely look at her, letting my gaze linger over the curve of her hip and the length of her legs. She was
stacked
. The lush curves of her body could take the weight of mine, and I knew that sinking into her would be like sinking into heaven.
“Just what do you plan to offer me, princess?” I asked and my voice was rougher than it should have been. “Fifty bucks a day? A hundred?”
The room was quiet.
I lifted my gaze back to her, expecting to see her blush or ordering one of her suits to muscle me out of there. I hadn’t been subtle about my perusal of her body and I’d done it on purpose, deliberately making sure everyone in the room knew exactly what I was doing.
To my surprise, she was giving me a bored look. Like she’d been on the receiving end of such a stare more times than she could recall and she didn't even care. That idea pissed me off – and it left me feeling ashamed. I didn’t like it.
Once our eyes met, Carly crossed her arms over her chest and leaned forward the slightest bit. She smirked. “You’re a little off.”
“Yeah?” I cocked up a brow. “I’m pretty sure you don’t need a mechanic. If your limo isn’t running right, a girl like you just gets a new one, right? So what exactly did you have in mind? Car engines are about all I’m good at.”
“Relax. My limo is just fine.” She looked amused. “No, I’ve actually got something else in mind. See, I’m in town for the rest of the week and this weekend. Jake is going to be...limited, we’ll say. I’m sure you can imagine why.” She slid her gaze to the man who was cradling his arm.
I blew out a breath as guilt started to twitch. Although, okay, really, that wasn’t my fault. He was the ass who’d grabbed me. I’d told him not to move. He’d moved. He couldn't say I hadn't warned him.
“Hey, don’t look so grim,” he said, sliding a hand into his pocket and pulling out a bottle. “I was going to be down for the count some of this week anyway. Now I’m just going to be down and in a cast. I’ve got to get some tests and shit done.”
He tossed the bottle he held over to the other suit – Ryan, I remembered – and I watched as Ryan opened the bottle, shook out some medicine, and brought it to Jake. They spoke in low tones and the look on Carly’s face was somber, something sad in her eyes.
It was a private moment and I shifted, uncomfortable being in the middle of something that was clearly personal. The hotel guys were looking away too, I noticed.
Then Carly shook her head a little, as if focusing. When she looked back at me, her brazen smile was back in place.
“We had coverage lined up,” she said. “Except the guy who was here, his wife went into early labor this morning. The other guy? Just took his first vacation in two years. He can get here, but...” Her voice trailed off and her gaze shifted to Jake.
“Ridley needs the vacation.” Jake gave me a cool look, clearly assessing my every reaction.
“Yeah, I bet.” Running my tongue across my teeth, I looked between the three of them and asked, “Just what exactly do you want me to do?”
She cocked her head as she explained, “I basically need you to do just what you did earlier. Help with annoying reporters, keep me from doing stupid things like running out in front of cars.”
“Sounds like you need a babysitter.”
A strange, choking noise came from the couch.
Carly narrowed her eyes on me as I glanced over to see if it had been Ryan or Jake laughing at us, but I couldn’t tell. They both wore that blank face that professional security knew how to do well.
So I looked back at her.
“Well, I pay my
babysitters
five thousand for the week. Or, at least, that’s what I’m willing to pay you.”
I blinked, waiting for someone else to say how ludicrous the offer was.
Except no one did.
Carly stood there, smiling. The hotel suits looked bored. Jake and Ryan didn't even blink.
“Okay. I’m waiting for the punchline.”
“There is no punchline, Mr...?”
“Cantrell,” I said. I had to clear my throat, because my voice sounded like a faint ghost of itself.
“Okay, Mr. Cantrell. Bobby Cantrell.” She took a step toward me. “I need another bodyguard for when I’m out and about. Jake will still be with us most of the time. But he’s got a few things to do while we’re here, and since my back-up is going to be preoccupied with his daughter, I need an extra set of hands. Two good hands.” She flashed those dimples at me. “And since Jake has only one now, I figure you owe me yours.”
“You still got the other guy.” I jabbed a finger at Ryan, and then gestured to the other suits. “And all of them. Take one of them.”
Carly glanced at the hotel suits. “I can’t. They're with the hotel. I need my own personal security when I leave here. That’s why I want to hire you.”
This whole situation was making me antsy now. Skimming a hand back over my hair, I looked from her to the security detail, to Ryan and Jake, and then back at her. “Okay, I’m not getting it. Just why the hell do you need bodyguards? Three of them? Or two and a half. Whatever. Are you Princess Diana’s long-lost daughter or something?”
Carly rolled her eyes, the gesture making me want to laugh. “I wish. Maybe then this circus might be a little more fun.” She shook her head. “This is...bizarre. You’ve seriously never heard of me.”
“No.” I shook my head, drawing the word out. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”
She blew out a breath and then sighed. “My name is Carly Prince.”
I lifted a brow, waiting for the rest.
“My father was Phoenix Prince.” Those lovely blue eyes fixed on me and she smiled just a little. But it wasn't a nice smile. It was more like resignation. Like she was sure things would change as soon as things clicked.
And then – click – they did and I felt like somebody had just hit me across the head with a sledgehammer.
Phoenix Prince.
“Son of a bitch.”
Chapter 3
The one thing I’d never imagined was that one day I’d find myself standing face-to-face with the daughter of the man who’d written “Crying Angel.” The song my mother had sang to me almost every night up until I was too old for her to sing to.
Then, as she'd lay dying, I sang it to her.
“Crying Angel”
might not have seemed like a kid’s lullaby, but my mother had been a die-hard Phoenix Prince fan, and the song had been playing when I was born. It had also been playing the first night she brought me home, and according to her, it was the only song that had been able to get me to sleep.
Even now, the sound of it soothed me. Bittersweet memories always came with it, but it was my go-to when I needed out of my head.
“Son of a bitch,” I whispered again.
“Well, some people say he was.” She laughed a little. “I honestly wouldn’t know.”
My face went red. “That’s not…I wasn’t…”
“I’m messing with you.” She waved a hand dismissively as she took a seat at the table, leaning forward in a position that put her ample breasts on display.
Dammit.
I kept my gaze on her face.
She was Phoenix Prince’s
daughter
.
“I know that wasn’t what you meant.” A sad smile curled her lips. “I take it you’re a fan.”
Feeling like an idiot now, I glanced around. Finally, I moved over to the seat across from hers. “Yeah,” I said. “My mom...” I shrugged, trying to keep my own emotions in check as I spoke, “She loved him. Got me into his music...well, all music, but especially him.”
“Loved...” Carly studied me. Her voice softened. “She’s gone, isn’t she?”