Page 32 of Unguarded

If they recognize me, it could be a repeat of what happened in the hall … but now, there are thousands of them.

I hunker farther down inside the hoodie, which swallows me whole, thankfully.

Cash leans down to my ear as we reach the other people. “Just stay low, Princess,” he whispers. “Trust me.”

Princess …

I don’t have time to react to the nickname because in the next moment, a policeman holds his hand up to stop us so that the line of cars and mopeds can go by. Concertgoers surround us, speaking Korean. It’s disconcerting to not understand any of what they’re saying, except for my American name. If they recognize me, we won’t even know until they try taking a picture.

The crisp night air causes me to shiver. Cash wraps his arm around my shoulders, tugging me close, like we’re a couple. I lean into him, his body heat spreading over me like an extension of the hoodie I’m so addicted to. I’m afraid he can feel my heart thundering against his side. He doesn’t loosen his hold. He rests his chin atop my head, his fingers gently brushing up and down my arm.

Finally, the police directing traffic allow us to cross the street. I have no idea where he’s taking me.

Are we walking all the way to the hotel?

We’re making our way by the parking area lined with mopeds when Cash slows our pace. A man turns on hismoped and uses the kickstand to stand it upright. His girlfriend tugs on his arm, handing him her phone as she poses in front of the stadium with a bright smile. He seems annoyed, but obliges her, stepping away from the bike and taking the photo.

Cash doesn’t waste a moment. In one swift movement, he reaches down, lifts me up by my waist into the air, and slings me onto the back of the bike. I yelp in surprise at the abrupt motion. He then swings his long leg over the seat, the duffel shoved in front of him, before he grabs the handlebars and revs up the engine. He reaches for my hand, tugging it around him. I lock my arms around his waist tightly, feeling his taut muscles under his shirt. He kicks the bike into gear and speeds down the street with angry shouts following us. My pulse jumps against my throat with the thrill of the unexpected ride.

The man is still screaming at us in Korean. I can only assume whatever he’s saying is a colorful spew of profanity at having his bike stolen because he was taking a picture. I turn my head to look back at the couple. The wind catches my hoodie, whipping it off my head.

Recognition flashes on the nearby faces. They stand frozen in shock as we slow to a stop at a red light.

“Fuck, you gotta cover your face, Princess,” Cash growls.

I reach up to pull the hoodie back over my head as I see several hands rise, phones poised to take a video of the spectacle. An A-list celebrity and her bodyguard stealing a fan’s moped right after the show is a headline anyone would click on.

12

CASH

The events that happened tonight were no accident. I’d checked the only doors leading to the dressing room and hallways. They had been locked with a security guard on duty five minutes before the hall was swarmed. I never told Monroe about the bouquet of roses sent to her room. I don’t want to take her back there since the location has been compromised.

Cold wind blows against my cheeks. Monroe hugs me tighter, her body flush against mine as I weave in and out of cars. There’s too much damn traffic for this time of night.

I can feel every nerve ending in my body. It’s like my skin is on fire, my instincts roaring at me that something is wrong—very fucking wrong—with this night.

There’s an inside man. There has to be. It’s someone on the team.

If I bring this up to Fidel or Danny, they’ll insist it was a mistake—something that shouldn’t have happened, but unfortunately did.

I haven’t figured out if Fidel is intentionally putting Monroe at risk or if he just doesn’t truly have a grasp on the basic concepts of keeping a high-profile client safe from harm. Shit like this can’t happen. Shit like this wouldn’t happen if everyone on the team did their jobs … and if we didn’t have a snitch.

Tonight, they did their jobs. I made sure of it. The security guard outside the door didn’t even have a key to it. He was just stationed there as a precaution.

I need to go through the venue’s list of employees and find that guy. He’s got some explaining to do.

“Are you cold?” I turn around to ask her as we pull up to another stoplight.

“Just my hands,” she mumbles.

I finally take a moment to feel her against my back. She’s holding on to me for dear life. Her breasts are pressing into me, and I try to ignore the sensual warmth spreading through me, instead focusing on where the fuck we’re going.

Safety.All we need is a safe place for the night, which can’t be the hotel we’ve been at.

I researched several of them the first time I moved her. One of my top choices was close to here, but we didn’t go with it because her manager didn’t think it was upscale enough. Admittedly, it was a lower-end hotel, but that’s why I chose it. No one would expect her to be in a place like that.

We pull up to a four-way stop. One corner has a liquor store with neon signs. The other one is a hole-in-the wall restaurant, and right beside it is the sign for a motel, tucked back between two buildings. It looks nice enough for me, but she might balk at it.

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