Page 8 of Single Mom's Bodyguards
“He abused me,” she says. “Not in the way the press would recognize. Not in a way that leaves obvious evidence. Not much, anyway…” She huffs under her breath. “To explain, I have to be specific, and I’ve run these lines in my head over and over on the drive here, but there’s no gentle way to say it?—”
“Don’t be gentle,” Wesley says. “Gentle is wasted on us.”
She nods once. “David—he used my kinks as a weapon. He ignored my safewords. He hurt me in ways I didn’t even know how to name back then.”
My hands clench under the table.
She keeps going. “I stayed longer than I should’ve because…well, because I wanted to protect my kids. And because when he was good, he wasverygood. Sweet. Attentive. Affectionate in front of the cameras, with the kids, at the school. But in private…”
She trails off. Takes a breath. Glances away, like she can’t meet our eyes anymore.
I don’t want to ask my question. “He’s still in the picture?”
Bailey nods. “We share custody, thanks to a judge’s decisions. I get Maeve and Eli during the week. He has every other weekend. We haven’t had any legal issues—yet—but he’s started showing up unannounced. Sending me texts. Making little comments during drop-off that make my skin crawl.”
“What kind of comments?” Huck asks, his voice darkening.
“That I shouldn’t be out at night. That he’s watching the tabloids. That changing the kids’ last names to my own was a ‘provocation.’”
Wesley curses under his breath. “Jesus.”
I glance at Huck. He’s gone still, like a storm cloud ready to rupture.
Bailey lifts her chin. “He cornered me at a charity event last night. I didn’t know he’d be there. He asked me to dance, said if I did, he’d leave me alone. I danced with him. And he threatened me in the middle of it.”
“What exactly did he say?” I ask.
“That a name change won’t keep me safe from him.”
Silence.
Bailey swallows. “I know it’s vague. He’s good at vague. That’s the whole point. He says just enough to rattle me, but never enough to bring to court. I’ve got texts that sound passive-aggressive, not violent. No judge would care.”
“You don’t need a judge,” I say flatly. “You need protection. And you came to the right place.”
Wes nods. “Damn right.”
Bailey looks at me then, really looks at me. “I trust you, Sean. That’s why I’m here.”
That should feel good, but it doesn’t. The girl I remember—the one who wanted to be a star, who sang into hairbrushes and named constellations with me—she shouldn’t have had tobecome someone whoneedsus. Someone who learned how to hide bruises and silence her own screams.
I force myself to stop imagining the horrors she’s experienced. It’s damn near impossible. I lean forward, elbows on the table. “He’s not going to touch you again. Not you. Not your kids. Not your fucking shadow.”
Bailey doesn’t blink. “Then I need it all. Whatever you offer. Home security, school escort, work travel detail—everything. I want him to know he can’t touch me.”
“You got it,” I promise.
Wes adds, “And if he so much as looks at you sideways, we’ll bury him under a restraining order so thick he’ll have to dig through it to breathe.”
Huck rumbles, “Or we’ll just bury him.” From Huck, that’s not hyperbole.
Bailey exhales. Her shoulders drop an inch and a half. For the first time since she walked in, she lets herself lean back in the chair. “I knew coming here was the right call.”
The plan forms faster than I expect. I think we’ve all been waiting for something to matter this much again. Wesley grabs his tablet and starts tapping. “We can install perimeter surveillance at your house in under forty-eight hours. Noninvasive. Motion-triggered. Nothing bulky enough to spook your kids.”
“I want interior cams too,” Bailey says. “Just in the main living areas. And one in their room—but turned off unless I activate it manually.”
“You got it.” He doesn’t even look up.
