Page 23 of Unguarded

He’s a man of few words, and he gets his point across as bluntly as possible.

Thank God someone is making a decision besides me.

Fidel hesitates, looking around at the plush suite. My words are caught in my throat. I don’t want to move locations any more than he does, but …

How can I possibly sleep here now?

I intertwine my fingers, my skin feeling tight.

Fidel wrings his hands. “We could request another room. I’m sure there’s another suite.”

My limbs start shaking, vibrating against my sides.

He continues, “It’s clear this room was compromised, but if no one knew which room she moved to, then?—”

“No.” Cash is calm. His feet are spread apart, jaw set. “She’s not safe here.”

Fidel looks at me, blinking, as if he’s expecting me to sidewith him, to tell Cash to get in line, that he isn’t paid to make decisions here.

Franky walks into the room, his gray head of hair looking unkempt. “Are you okay, dear? How awful.”

Franky is the general tour manager and handles all the staff on the tour. He’s a retired stand-up comedian and an Army veteran. While Fidel was the one who discovered my talent when I was thirteen and is somewhat of a father figure, Franky joined on when I released my first single two years later. He’s more grandfatherly and less ambitious than Fidel.

I slowly nod, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill. I lift my chin, attempting to put on a mask of strength and confidence.

This isn’t my first time having a stalker. This isn’t even the first time my life has been threatened. This is, however, the first time the threat has been so personal. I shudder at the thought of him watching me all those times, maybe more.

Fidel starts speaking to whoever is on the phone. “Yes, sir, she’s okay. We’re considering next steps.” His voice fades as he exits the room.

I try to stand, testing out my feet on the carpet. My legs are shaky, but I manage to walk over to the window, pushing open the drapes. Rain is pelting the windows in a steady beat. I close my eyes before slowly turning to face the group. Cash has stepped up behind me, concern etched deeply between his emerald eyes. His jaw tics with barely restrained anger.

“Miss Blue, security is what you’re paying me for. I knowI can’t convince you to cancel the show, but this was a clear, direct threat. Let me do my job and keep you safe. This person has access to the venue.”

I stare into his eyes, chewing on my lower lip before I relent with a slight nod. He turns around and exits the room without another word. I follow him out, seeing that the rest of my security detail has been notified, and four of the other bodyguards are in the room with stoic faces. Danny, my head of security, is glaring at Cash.

“Miss Blue will be relocated to another location. From now on, she will have two bodyguards at all times, four when she’s performing,” Cash states.

Fidel sighs, overwhelmed with the task at hand of having to move me. There’s no easy way to go about it.

Danny lifts his chin. “We’re fully capable of protecting her here. This hotel has experience with high-profile clients. They know how to handle the fans and press. A last-minute check-in to a hotel with a celebrity of her status isn’t nearly as easy as you’re making it sound.” He turns to me. “Miss Blue, let us do our jobs. We’re the experienced ones.”

Cash remains silent, standing his ground. The tension in the room is palpable, and my head is pounding.

“I’m not going to keep hashing this out. Personally, I can’t imagine sleeping here knowing he got in.” I drag in a breath, trying to talk myself out of having a meltdown. “If I can’t sleep, I can’t perform. Let’s move.”

9

CASH

The fact that everyone around here seems to have no fucking concept about truly keeping a woman safe from a very real threat is about to drive me out of my mind. Monroe’s security team is a fucking joke. They follow a list of “protocols” that frankly don’t apply to a situation where her hotel room was broken into in the middle of the day and someone left a souvenir from the visit.

Monroe’s staff isn’t exactlynegligent, but they all seem to balance her safety with their own inconvenience and the effect changing her plans will have on her fame, success, reputation, and their fucking kimchi orders.

If no one knows where she’s staying, she can’t be photographed going in and out of the hotel lobby.

My blood temperature rises at the thought of how exploited she is at every turn as we pull up to the new hotel.

“Here.” I hand Monroe my plain black ball cap and my black Redford Ranch hoodie. It’s been washed so many timesthe doubleRbrand on the chest has faded to just one letter, making it unrecognizable.

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