Rolling my eyes, I tell him, “That’s not helpful at all since you would do almost anything and everything.”
Michel gives a sideways glance at the bouncer, who is listening carefully to our exchange, and runs his eyes up and down. “Girl, you know that’s true.”
The corners of the bouncer’s mouth curve up in a sly way as he realizes he’s getting laid tonight.
Michel and I air kiss each other’s cheeks good-bye and I turn to make my way back across the dance floor to Kynan. I get no more than three steps before a hand is grabbing my upper arm and I’m being whipped around so fast my head spins. Then I’m pulled hard into a man’s body and a hand goes to my ass.
Brushing my hair out of my eyes, I don’t even have the time to see who my aggressor is or even be offended before the guy just disappears. It takes me a moment to realize he’s flat on his back in the middle of the dance floor with Kynan crouched over him. One hand is wrapped around the front of the guy’s throat and the other is just casually loose near his hip. He doesn’t seem to be expending any energy whatsoever but the guy on the floor is clawing at Kynan with both hands and writhing around as his face turns purple.
Then Kynan lets him go and stands up.
It all happens so fast, the bouncer nearest us—Michel’s date tonight—doesn’t even have a chance to move. Kynan doesn’t give the man who grabbed me another look nor does he care about all the people gawking at us.
He takes me by the elbow and steers me across the dance floor. People scramble to get out of the way of the huge man that just laid that jerk out in about a nanosecond without breaking a sweat.
Kynan’s strides are long so I have to trot to stay at pace with him. In moments I’m outside of the club and we’re making our way across the parking lot. I dare a glance up at him and he looks incredibly pissed.
When we reach his vehicle—a black Suburban with tinted windows—he lets me go. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head rapidly and venture a question of my own. “Are you mad at me?”
“Fuck no,” he growls and then rubs the back of his neck in what seems to be frustration. “I just... lost my shit in there when he grabbed you like that. I could have fucking killed him.”
I’m not sure what meaning he places behind his actions, but I know the reaction of my body to them. He got mad on a personal level that someone touched me and that does something incredibly disturbing to my body. My lower belly tingles, a cramp hits me between the legs, and I feel a rush of wetness against my panties. I squeeze my legs together and that makes the ache worse.
I groan and Kynan’s eyes snap to me. “What?”
“Nothing,” I mutter.
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” he demands, his head swinging back to the club and I can tell he’s considering going back in there to finish the job.
“I’m fine,” I assure him, reaching out a hand to touch his arm.
Kynan’s body locks tight and his gaze swings back to me before descending to look at me touching him. I snatch my hand back, feeling as if I’ve been burned not by the touch but by some untold condemnation from him. He doesn’t like me touching him.
His expression is troubled for a moment—as if I’ve crossed a line—then goes blank. Leaning past me, he opens the passenger door and holds it open for me to get in. “Let’s get you home.”
“Okay,” I murmur, unsure of what the hell just happened but with a sneaking suspicion that my attraction to Kynan may not be reciprocated after all.
Chapter 7
Kynan
I don’t let Joslyn mesmerize me too much. I’m on duty and she’s on stage, and while she’s captivating in a way I’ve never known, I am more interested right now in making sure she’s safe. I’ve changed the shift schedule to just two twelve-hour shifts. Jayce was moved to cover 6AM to 6PM and I cover the other 12 hours. I chose the evening shift so I could watch over Joslyn when she’s at her most vulnerable—which is anywhere away from the apartment but most importantly when she’s performing.
Selfishly, I also chose this shift because after her shows or the nights she has off, we come back to the apartment and hang out. I’m still on duty and most properly, I should probably be standing outside the door in the hallway, but sitting in the living room with her is just as good. I have line of sight of the door, a security system someone would have to bust through, and a 9mm gun on my hip.
We’ve taken to playing board games, which usually ends up being about 90 percent talking with each other and only about 10 percent of gameplay. The first time Madeline witnessed this, she gave me a funny look. Not quite disapproving but definitely uneasy with the way Joslyn and I were sitting on opposite sides of the table as we discussed our favorite classic rock songs. Joslyn has an amazing variety of music that she listens to, which is something we have in common.
I don’t care what Madeline thinks. I’m protecting her daughter and fulfilling my secret crush at the same time. I could no more stay away from Joslyn out in that hallway than I could decide to give up oxygen. In just a little over a week, she’s become that important to me.
Or I’ve become that obsessed with her.
My gaze sweeps the audience, cuts to Joslyn for just a minute as she croons a love song while sitting on a stool center stage with a spotlight illuminating all of that gorgeous silvery hair.
Back to the audience for only a moment as I feel someone step up beside me at the edge of the stage. I twist my neck and see Jerico standing there. He’s dressed in a business suit and lifts his chin in greeting.
“You’re back,” I say as my gaze returns to the crowd.
“Got in a few hours ago but thought I’d come catch our first personal client’s show,” he explains to me. “Also wanted to meet her mother.”
“She’s in Joslyn’s dressing room,” I tell him.
“Yeah... already been there and introduced myself.” Jerico slips his hands casually into his pockets and adds, “She’s an um... intense woman.”
“She’s dedicated to Joslyn’s career,” I mutter, wondering sometimes what’s more important to her. Being a mother or being a manager.
My eyes slide to Joslyn. It’s something she struggles with understanding as well. Late at night and long after Madeline retires, Joslyn stays up and keeps me company until the wee hours of the morning before I have to leave. We’ll push the board game aside. She settles back onto the couch while I stay perched on the edge of the guest chair, always facing the front door. Over the last four evenings I’ve been with her, we’ve probably wracked up a good twenty hours of one-on-one conversation.
Let me tell you... you can learn a lot about a person in that amount of time.
On the flip side, I opened up to her, which is incredibly odd. I’m not overly close with my family but there’s no drama there. I spend most of my time telling her about my military service, and although I know it distresses her to learn some of the harrowing things that have happened to me, I can’t seem to stop myself from sharing. She’s the only person in this world that knows I almost pissed my pants one night when I was out on a patrol and a grenade got tossed over my head, landing just about twenty feet from me. It landed in the middle of some of my closest friends, killing three of them and throwing me several feet away from the force of the explosion.