Page 15 of Unguarded

One woman rears back and slaps me in the face when I grasp her shoulders and set her down to the side.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” she screeches.

I continue forward until I finally reach the door of the car where Monroe is seated, one camera shoved fully inside the vehicle, snapping close-up pictures of her face. Her handis covering the lens, but the man won’t pull back the camera.

I jerk the strap on the man’s arm, intentionally letting the camera fall and nearly hit the ground before he snatches it back up.

“Motherfucker!” he shrieks. “Who the hell do you think you are?” His eyes are red with rage, lips peeled back from his snarling teeth. His expression reminds me of a wild coyote eating a dead carcass.

I lean down into his face. “I’m not from around here, but back where I’m from, you’d be laid out on the pavement with more than a black eye and a busted lip for getting that far up in someone’s personal business, especially a lady’s.” I stand up to my full height. “Now. Back. The. Fuck. Up.”

I jerk his camera strap one more time for emphasis before he finally does what I said, eyes crazed. Brooks shoves his way next to me, and we both turn to force the crowd back with spread arms. They have no choice but to give us a wide berth of a few feet.

“Miss Blue will be leaving this eventnowif you fuckers don’t start behaving,” I bark.

The ones near me are silent, mouths gaping at me. The staff from the nightclub finally reaches us with their own bouncers and metal stands with red ropes, tying them together to create a pathway.

“So sorry, Mr. Byron and Miss Blue! We got the time of your arrival wrong, and we didn’t expect such crowds to?—”

I ignore the blubbering man in a red velvet suit, instead turning to bend down in front of the passenger seat, where Monroe is still waiting.

She’s exhaling slowly, her hands gripping her mid-thighs. Her lower lip is slightly trembling as she meets my eyes, blinking quickly like she might cry.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

I lean closer, resisting the urge to grab her hand and squeeze it. Instead, I grip the side of the leather seat. “Don’t ever get out of the car without me directly in front of it—you understand?”

She nods, holding back the tears building with calculated blinks. Her dress is slightly pulled to the side, revealing more of her breast and almost her nipple. She realizes it, reaching down to adjust the flimsy gold fabric to cover herself more. I watch her, trying to decide if I should just take her to the SUV and drive her home now before something happens. She seems shaken up. I grit my teeth, feeling the urge to send a message with my fists to her moron of a boyfriend for putting her in that situation.

“Did someone touch you?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I’m okay. I—I didn’t realize he was going to open the door before you were close.” She blinks slower, her thick lashes brushing against her pink cheeks.

The shift in her emotion-filled gaze is swift, like a wave covering a sandy shore. One second, she was terrified and vulnerable, and the next, she looks camera-ready and every bit the emotionless superstar they expect her to be.

I wonder which one is the real her.

I look down at my hand, seeing her fingers slowly inch toward mine on the cream leather.

Before she touches me, Zade finally makes his way around the car and is bending down towardher.

“Sorry, baby. That was a mess. Here, let me help you.” His hand comes down between us.

She looks up at me, a flicker of yearning in her ocean eyes. I’ve had way too many dreams about those eyes in the last year. I slowly nod, brushing the back of my knuckles against her lower calf muscle, near her ankle. Her breath catches at the contact, red lips slightly parted.

“I’m right here,” I assure her, the back of my coarse fingers still grazing her smooth skin.

She nods before gripping Zade’s hand, letting him pull her from the car.

6

MONROE

Iwake up with a slight headache and the realization that it’s my last day at home before leaving for six months. A zip of excitement cuts through my belly.

Ilovegoing on tour. I love traveling the world. As a girl raised in a South Texas trailer park, I never thought I’d see anyplace outside of my small, suffocating hometown, so this life still feels surreal sometimes.

Someone knocks on my bedroom door before pushing it open. Ember pokes her violet-red-haired head in.

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