Page 5 of Jealous Bodyguard

“I’m Steve Slade. I’m in charge here now and Stacey’s coming with me.”

3

STEVE

Hearing the words as I grind them out, telling anyone within earshot that Stacey’s mine. That she's coming with me? I’m not surprised. There’s no doubt that Stacey’s safer in my company. And one look at her so-called security detail confirms it.

It’s not a look of shock or surprise on the woman's face. She’s mad as hell but knows how to keep calm in a crisis. There’s a look of recognition too in her narrowed eyes and thin, sharp features. But I’ve never seen her before.

At a glance, she's someone who can look after herself. The way she's standing in the doorway leaves her plenty of room and the resting stance of her feet shows me someone who’s trained long and hard in a variety of martial arts.

The loose-fitting pantsuit she has on is casual professional, but I can make out the subtle shapes of the hidden weapons she’s loaded with. What she might lack in size or strength is made up for with plenty of sting in her tail. Whoever she is, she’s good.

But I’m better. I’m what Stacey needs. And there’s something decidedly off about Melinda. I’m just too damned distracted with my own hormones raging right now to think clearly.

Guess it takes one to know one, but I can spot someone you wouldn't want to fuck with a mile away. But there’s something about Stacey's bodyguard that doesn't sit right apart from that. And not just because she’s acting like she's the one in charge, let alone keeping her job here either.

Not because I’ve got issues with female bodyguards, it’s not that at all. I have a short list of the best I call on when I have a client that prefers a female guard. My issue right now is anyone, man woman, or child. Animal, mineral, or vegetable trying to get between me and what’s mine.

Ignoring Stacey, who I can’t keep my eyes off for more than a half second, Melinda introduces herself in a tone that should be reminding me to keep things professional. But the aching need that’s sprung to life in my jeans…My pressing need for Stacey. It’s worn the last shreds of my composure to breaking point and I’ve only just met the girl.

“Mr. Slade? I’m Melinda. I’m not sure if you've been briefed by Mr. Shulton, but I have my job to do, and right now, I’d appreciate it if you’d calm down and I can take Stacey back upstairs.”

Stacey opens her mouth to say something and I’m half-facing the fireplace, still trying to work out what to do with the instant canoe in my jeans.

I feel myself tensing up internally, trying to keep a lid on things. Knowing full well that this woman's right. For now, at least.

“This the dog guy?” Melinda asks Stacey, only glancing at her long enough to ask. But I can See Stacey’s in as much of a bind as I am right now.

“I was called in on a different matter,” I rasp, cutting her off. Finding my voice as I casually move myself to stand behind the high back of an antique chair. Watching Melinda’s composure falter just a little once she spots the note still in my hand. But the sound I’ve dreaded since Shulton said the word ‘dog’ breaks the tension of the moment.

It’s only once we all hear the excited yelps of a tiny mutt and the even shriller nonsense Shulton himself is broadcasting that it’s clear how thick the air really is in here.

She must feel it! How can she not just see what’s happening here?

I don’t have a lot of time to think it over. The dog I’m assuming is ‘Angel’ scuttles into the room and makes straight for me, baring its tiny white teeth and giving me a look that makes Melinda here friendly by comparison.

“Angel! Angel!” Shulton cries out, red in the face and sweaty as he tries to keep up with the mutt. He stops short once he sees us all, and I politely ignore the creature tearing and tugging at the bottom of my jeans.

Once I see it make Stacey smile, the absurdity of a man my size being put in charge of guarding a toy dog, well… If it makes her smile, I guess I could put up with the little rascal at my feet. But Shulton’s not impressed.

He moves over and scoops up his little dog, as if I've contaminated it somehow by letting it chew on me. “I- I don't think this is going to work at all!” he exclaims, addressing the dog, not me.

“You're just so tiny… And there he is, great big lump of a man… He’d step on you without noticing, wouldn't he, muffin?! Wouldn’t he, my Angel?”

I feel my brow crease and I stifle a groan. Something about a grown man reduced to something like Shulton and being that rich to boot? I dunno, it just kinda churns my guts.

“I was just taking Stacey back upstairs, Mr. Shulton,” Melinda chimes in mechanically. As if she's got everything under control. As ifshethinks she can have Stacey all to herself while I get used as a dog toy.

“Hm? Uh, yes… Yes, of course,” Shulton says absently. Checking himself a little and toning down his fawning over his only real interest in all this. A dog that must weigh about half a pound. And he’s right. Man my size could easily step on her without even realizing, and as much as I'm not exactly a fan of little dogs, it doesn't mean I want to hurt one either. Not even by accident.

Especially if it's something that makes Stacey smile. She has a great smile. Great everything…

But seeing how easily swayed he is by Melinda. Seeing Stacey moving to follow her like some trained pet herself, I think it’s time Shulton realizes just how much danger Stacey is in, not his damned dog. It feels so unnatural to watch Stacey leave the room without me, doing as she's told and trailing out after her minder.

It isn’t right. Not only should she be with me, there’s something way off about that Melinda woman. I just feel it.

“I think it might be best if you just left after all,” Shulton sighs, eying his prize pooch adoringly so he doesn't have to make eye contact with me. “You’ll be paid well for your time, so no need to worry about that…” he coos, slipping back into baby talk with that damned dog.

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