Page 18 of The Bodyguard

Sawyer followed her into the war room.

Her mother eyed him. “We don’t need anyone else but Angela.”

Sawyer didn’t hesitate as he proceeded next to Rich. “Given that Angela mentioned she has no idea what’s going on”—he looked to Jared—“I’ll defer to my boss.”

“Sit.” Jared gestured to the seat Sawyer was about to take.

Nervousness masked, Angela sat next to Paul and across from Sawyer. Her boyfriend seemed like an old acquaintance, neither friendly nor comfortable, more like the landscape on a road she’d driven a hundred times.

She took a pen and small notebook from her bag as she would have if called into a meeting with any other client. She waited, poised to take notes or handle anything Jared asked of her.

“Good to see you, Angela,” her mother said.

Angela’s grip tightened on the pen, but she painted an acceptable expression on her face. “It’s a surprise.”

“It is,” her mother agreed. “You know how trips like these are. Under the radar.”

Angela demurred and refocused on Jared.

Paul sighed as if he were a petulant child not given attention. “If you had responded to my texts, you wouldn’t be completely in the dark.”

Annoyance rocketed up her neck. Angela pressed her lips together, wondering if now was an appropriate time to mention the text messages from her that he had missed. Instead, she kept her eyes on Boss Man.

Tension ticked in Jared’s jaw. Irritated lines etched over his darkening expression. “Give me a break, Paul.” Jared snorted. “No bullshit in my war room. You understand me?”

Her pulse thumped in her ears. Angela’s gaze skipped from Jared to Sawyer then back to Jared again.

Her mother cleared her throat. The gold bracelets on her wrist clinked. “I’d suggest business first. Then, Angela, you and Paul can discuss personal details afterward.”

Jared’s scowl deepened. “Samantha,” he growled, “I do not have time for this bullshit.”

“So you keep saying,” her mother returned. “If we did this my way—”

“Your way,” Jared fumed, “nearly killed my people.”

“I wouldn’t call Angela your people.”

The blood drained from Angela’s face. Her veneer threatened to crumble. She focused on Jared and ignored the hurt that sliced into her chest as though her mother had thrown a ninja star with surgical precision.

“First.” Boss Man’s quiet voice reached a deadly baritone that rumbled like thunder across the war room. “You don’t know your ass from your elbow when it comes to my team.” He squeezed his right fist with his left hand, and the knuckles cracked. “Second. You don’t know your ass from your elbow when it comes to your daughter.”

Watery emotion surprised Angela, but she kept her expression cold as untouched gun metal.

“And third, if you ever”—he pushed out of this chair and towered over the table—“and I meanever, Samantha, interfere, involve, or otherwise include yourself in my domain again unless I expressly request it, I will end you.”

Mother’s bracelets clinked as she shifted. Her iron-clad posture didn’t slip, but her silence spoke volumes.

“Are we on the same page, Samantha?”

Angela’s mother lightly cleared her throat, pressed her red lips together, and relented. “Fine. You have my word.”

Jared turned his attention to Angela and drew a measured breath. Slowly, he let it out as though he were counting to ten. “Angela…”

Panic curled in her gut. Her gaze flicked to Sawyer and then locked back onto Boss Man. She gave him her full, grateful, albeit nervous, attention.

“This foursome”—Jared gestured between Rich and Rob, Paul and her mother—“has been here for a few days.”

Angela’s jaw dropped. “What?” She pivoted in her chair to stare at her mother and Paul. “And you didn’t tell me?” They didn’t answer. She turned to Jared. “You knew?”

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