Page 7 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
She turns, and the years fall away. Bailey Beausoleil.
Same chocolate waves. Same blue eyes. Same impossible mix of elegance and fuck-you fire. She looks like she was carved from old Hollywood and dipped in danger. “Hey, Sean.”
My name doesn’t sound right coming from her mouth. It’s been too long. None of this computes, and it takes me a moment to rasp out her name. “Bailey.”
I’m not supposed to feel like this. Not after all this time. Not when I’ve spent years building a company that keeps people like her alive. I’m the guy who plans for worst-case scenarios. Who layers backup plans on top of backup plans. I’m not the guy who gets blindsided. Ever.
But here she is. The girl who used to lie next to me on a tar rooftop in the middle of summer, whispering dreams betweenplanes and sirens. The one who said she wanted to be a star, even when we could barely see the constellations through LA smog.
She made it happen. And now she’s back. In my office.
Bailey offers a faint smile, like she’s not sure if she’s welcome or not.
She is. God, she is.
“Thanks for seeing me, guys,” she says, eyes flicking from me to Wes, then to Huck, and back again. “I know this is…weird.”
Wes breaks first. “Dude,” he says, grinning as he rounds the table, “you disappear for a decade and show up in a dress like that, and youthinkit’s weird? You have no idea what you just did to Sean’s blood pressure.”
“Wesley,” I warn, voice low.
Bailey laughs. It’s real, and a little surprised, like she hasn’t laughed in a while. “Missed you, Wes.”
He pulls her into a quick hug. “Missed you, Bailey.”
Huck steps up next, towering beside her like a boulder come to life. He doesn’t say much—he never does—but he holds out a hand. Bailey takes it. His booming voice is low. “Good to see you.”
“You too, Huck.” Bailey swallows, then turns to me. “Sean?”
I nod toward a chair. “Have a seat. Tell us what’s going on.”
She walks with a practiced grace, but I catch it—that slight hesitation in her left leg. Like her heel might be hurting.
I fold my hands on the table and take a breath. “Chief said you didn’t want your name spoken out loud in the building.”
“She’s right.” Bailey straightens her spine, her voice shifting into something more formal. Actress mode. “I need discretion.Totaldiscretion. Not just from the press—though that too—but from everyone. Even your staff.”
“That’s standard,” I say. “But you knew that, coming to us. That’s why you’re here. You know our reputation?—”
“I knowyou. That’s why I’m here.”
I don’t correct her. She doesn’t know who we are these days. What we’ve done. She doesn’t need to know.
“You’re aware of what it means to hire a team like us. We’ll lock this case down tighter than Fort Knox if you tell us what we’re dealing with. But why us?”
She exhales through her nose, glancing away. “You three are the last people I knew before I became…what I am. It’s been a long time, but of all the security teams I could hire, I trust you three the most…” She pauses. Her hands are folded in her lap, fingers twisting a silver ring.
I fight the urge to fill the silence. It’s hard. She’s obviously upset, and I want to ask every question that comes to mind.What’s going on? Are you okay? Who do I have to kill to keep you safe?But she’s also on the edge of a knife. If I push, she’ll run.
“It’s my ex-husband,” she says.
The temperature in the room drops. Wes’s smile fades. Huck’s jaw flexes.
I keep my voice level. “Go on.”
“He’s…he’s not just a problem. He’s a threat.” She meets my eyes, and for the first time, I see it. Not just fear. Not just exhaustion. Pure rage. Controlled. Sharpened. Buried under years of silence.
I want to hunt him for sport, and I’m not much of a hunter. But I’d happily make an exception in this case. “Go on.”
