Page 1 of Broken Bodyguard

CHAPTER ONE

TROY

“Anychanceyou’reheadingsouth soon?”

The soft urgency in Mercedes’s question broke through the din of the Manhattan restaurant. All around us, conversation roared inside the upscale Italian eatery. Our plates were empty in front of us, awaiting the renowned lasagnas and cacio e pepe that the Fairchild party had ordered. Dining out with this crew was always a lavish affair, and I had no problem enjoying the spoils.

I looked over at her, trying to figure out what ‘south’ she referred to. I must have taken too long to answer because she hurried to add, “Southern US.” She offered a small smile, but there was worry tugging at the corners of her eyes.

“I might be,” I told her, reaching for my frosted glass of beer. They never gave you the bottles in places like this, so I was forced to look like a cultured man. “What’s going on?”

Mercedes glanced at Willow, who sat between her and Trace at the long table, drawing on a pad of paper they’d brought along. Then she drew a deep breath, leaning closer to me. “If you were heading in that direction, I was thinking of asking you for a favor.”

I took a pull of beer. I was always heading in a new direction. I’d ended a six-month stint in Los Angeles back in November, and then I’d come to New York for a holiday breather, though I’d accidentally picked up a couple gigs while I was visiting. My life was like that. Always fun, always a surprise, always on the go. And I had no intention of stopping or settling down.

I didn’t know anything but transience. Since day one.

“It sounds like you need me to head in that direction.” I lifted a brow.

“I just thought that, well—” She expelled a worried burst of air, her hands finding the bump of her belly. She’d revealed a month ago that she and Trace were expecting, and it was cool to see her growing in real time. “Do you remember my sister-in-law Maddie?”

I was mid-sip when she asked the question, and the beer went down the wrong pipe. I coughed, damn near choking.

RememberMaddie? That brunette with all the curves, the soft smile, and the most infectious laughter I’d heard since…I didn’t even fucking know when? The sugar sweet schoolteacher with the little girl on her hip who’d made Jordan and Seven’s Christmas party evaporate in the blink of an eye as we chatted in the far corner?

Yeah, I fucking remembered her.

Couldn’t stop thinking about her, either.

“Yeah,” I said, setting my beer back on the table. A safe, non-choking distance away. “Is she coming north again, or…?” My heart rate picked up. Thankfully, Mercedes wouldn’t catch on to that. I didn’t make a habit of lusting after single moms who lived a thousand miles away from my security gig du jour. With my lifestyle I knew better than that.

Still, Maddie had burrowed into my brain. And even a month after our goodbyes, I still thought about her every day. I’d stopped myself from begging for Maddie’s number more times than I cared to admit.

Mercedes was just about to respond when a wave of raucous greetings overcame our conversation. Trace surged to his feet at Mercedes’s side, followed by his brothers Axel and Damian farther down the table. I couldn’t see yet who had arrived, but those three brothers knew just about everyone in Manhattan, either from advising them on their finances and investments or from rubbing elbows with them in elite circles. My best friend Seven, sitting across the table with his girlfriend Jordan, also seemed to recognize the newcomer because he pushed to standing and came around the table. I didn’t really care who was here. I needed to know what Mercedes had to say about Maddie.

“I can’t believe you had a reservation for the same time.” Trace’s voice boomed as he pulled the newcomer into a quick bro hug. I caught a flash of tattoos creeping down a manly forearm. I cleared my throat, ready to prompt Mercedes again, when Trace shouted my name.

“Trojan! I need you for a second.” Trace waved me to standing, his dark eyes shining with mischief. “I’ve been talking you up to this guy for too long.”

Now my gig radar was pinging. I had the distant urge to tell Trace to wait until my conversation with Mercedes was over, but even Mercedes looked excited by whoever was here.

I pushed my chair back from the table. Trace, Axel, and Damian owned Fairchild Enterprises on Wall Street, a successful and well-known wealth management company. After their company had been investigated by the SEC for financial fraud, the ensuing drama and ultimate name-clearing could be made into a high-drama Netflix series. If the investigation had hindered their business in any way, it certainly didn’t show. The brothers were more famous than some of the A-list actors we occasionally saw out on the town.

The Fairchilds had gathered around the newcomer at the end of the table. I joined them, nodding at the brawny, suited man. He almost passed for any other Wall Street type—button-up shirt, sleeves rolled back, pressed black pants—except for the tattoos. His arms were covered in ink, and some crept past the collar of his shirt as well.

“Nash. I’ve been wanting you to meet this one. He’s the CPO I’ve been talking about.” Trace’s dark eyes gleamed as he clapped my back, which only made me stand taller. At six four, I was the tallest one here—but Trace and this Nash guy were close seconds. “Trojan, meet Nash Nightingale.”

Nash stuck out a hand, which I shook firmly. His eyes were a dizzying shade of blue, something between clouds and lake ice.

“Trojan, it’s great to finally meet you. You come highly recommended.”

I looked around at the Fairchild brothers. “I didn’t realize I was being recommended.”

“We are perpetually recommending you,” Axel said with a grin. To Nash, he said, “If you need a connection, this guy has got it. He pulled an ex-CIA operative out of his ass for us once when we needed one.”

Nash smiled in a calculating way. His gaze hadn’t moved from me, and I could tell he was sizing me up for something. Though I didn’t know what for, I was more intrigued than I wanted to let on. The Fairchilds were part of my inner circle now, so I trusted their judgement. Which was why whatever Mercedes was about to ask me to do, I already knew my answer. And if the brothers were talking me up to a potential employer, I could bank on it being a good next gig.

“I’ve got more where he came from.” I cracked a grin, and Axel burst into laughter.

---