There was a moment of silence, and I almost dared to hope. Then Haze spoke, and my stomach twisted.
“I'm your bodyguard, nothing more.”
“What if you weren't?” I asked. “Could we be together then?”
He shook his head and looked away. “Let's not play 'what if,' Leighton.”
He refused to look at me, but I couldn't tear my eyes from his face. His expression was unreadable, but I knew something was wrong. There was something he wasn't telling me. And whatever it was, it was the real reason he refused to be with me.
“You're choosing your job over me.” I made it a statement rather than a question.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don't think you even understand what you're saying. If I wasn't your bodyguard, what would I do? Hang around LA and wait for you to invite me out with you and your friends? I'm not like them, not like you.”
“It's more important to you to be my bodyguard than to try being in a relationship with me?” I stomach clenched, my heart twisting painfully. “You're choosing a job over a chance that there's something more between us.”
“Yes, I am.” He hammered a fist on the kitchen counter top. “If I wasn't your bodyguard, someone else would have to be, and who knows what would happen then. I have to make sure you're safe.”
This was worse than waking up alone. I could still taste Haze on my lips, still feel his warmth against my body. I wanted to throw my arms around him again, feel his arms around me. Except he was telling me that his job as my bodyguard was more important than my feelings, than me.
“You really don't care about me, do you?” I asked, my voice small.
“Of course I do,” he said, exasperated. “Why do you think I refuse to give up my job? Someone has to make sure you’re safe, make sure that nothing happens to you, that no one hurts you.”
“What about you?” I asked, wrapping my arms around my middle. My voice cracked. “What happens if you're the one hurting me?”
“Leighton, please, you have to understand.” He was pleading with me now. “Protecting you is more important than anything else. Do you hear what I'm saying?”
“I do,” my grandfather said as he interrupted us. He strode into the kitchen and gave Haze a sharp look. “I believe I pay you to guard Leighton, not talk to her.” He turned to me. “Are you going out today, dear?”
The look that flashed between Haze and my grandfather made my blood boil. I'd had enough of their fucking secrets. I didn't need Haze or the whirlpool of emotions he caused, and I certainly didn't need my grandfather nosing around in my life and disapproving. I was done with all of it.
“I was just heading over to Ricky's,” I said. “Some heartless thug beat him up.”
I didn't wait for my grandfather to speak. I marched out of the kitchen and straight to the front door. I was only waiting a minute or so before Haze brought his car around. I jumped in the front seat and slammed the door without a word to him. He didn't speak either and I seethed in the silence.
I didn't understand how he could appear so unaffected. Even the echo of his words hurt me, but he drove along as if nothing bothered him. I supposed his stoic face was another by-product of his time spent in the army Special Forces, but every time I glanced at his carefully blank expression, I got angrier. I wanted to break his calm, torture him. I wanted to make him feel even a fraction of the pain I was feeling.
“Paris is at Ricky's,” I said. “We'll probably go shopping afterwards.”
His jaw flexed, but his voice was as smooth as ever. “Whatever you say, Ms. Machus.”
Paris answered the door at Ricky's, and I air-kissed both her cheeks despite my urge to claw her eyes out. She was wearing a tiny tank top that barely covered her large breasts and I had no doubt she'd chosen that shirt intentionally. Her ice green eyes flashed as she looked me over, not even bothering to hide her jealousy.
“How is he?” I asked as I brushed past her and into the house.
“I don't know,” Paris said as she followed me. “It sounds like Ricky thinks this was somehow your fault. He says you left him, cheated on him, and sent someone to beat him up.”
“You of all people should know Ricky lies,” I said. It wasn't entirely a lie, but she didn't need to know how much was and how much wasn't.
“Well, if you'd been here sooner, you could have talked to him yourself, but now the painkillers have kicked in,” Paris said smugly. “Before he fell asleep, he told me he didn't want any visitors.”
I stopped Paris at Ricky's bedroom door and gave her my most superior look. “He asked for me, and told you he didn't want visitors. Sounds like maybe you should wait out here.”
Paris scowled, but then lit her eyes on Haze. “Fine. At least you brought me something yummy to look at.”
I ignored the sick twist in my gut as Paris sauntered towards Haze. I couldn't think about that now. I opened the bedroom door and saw Ricky's glazed eyes peeking out from under his duvet. They squeezed shut as I walked over to the bed.
“Painkillers and a slutty nurse, you must be in heaven,” I said.
His eyes fluttered open and he frowned at me. “Hurts.”
“I hear Karma is like that.” I couldn't resist a little dig.
I sat down on the edge of the bed. Paris was right about the painkillers, but as I examined Ricky's face all I could feel was irritation. He had a black eye and a puffy bruise along his jaw, nothing to warrant the darkened room and a bedside visit. But that was Ricky, making it about him. He and Paris were actually perfect for each other, now that I thought about it.
“I know you're pretending to be completely out of it, and maybe you are a little fuzzy, but I'm not waiting on this. I came here to tell you we're over. No more open relationship, no more relationship at all. You're not what I want. I'm done with you.”
I watched to see if there was any response, but there was nothing. I wasn't entirely sure how much of this was real and how much was pretend, so I'd keep the memory of what I said, a speech I could use again and again until he believed me.
It was too bad I didn't have a prepared speech for Haze. One that could tell him how much he'd hurt me. Except he'd made his decision, and there was nothing else to say. The best bet I had was torturing him with a little shopping.
And with Paris' charming company, I thought. It might not be the most fun for me, but at least I'd have the pleasure of watching Haze squirm.
When I returned to the living room, Paris was flitting around Haze, clearly hoping he was looking down her shirt. He wasn't though. He was looking out the window at Ricky's impressive view.
“Isn't it awful? Poor Ricky,” Paris said when she saw me.
“Yeah, poor guy,” I said. “He's out like you said, so I was wondering if you wanted to hit a few shops.”
“Sounds great,” Paris said with a tight smile as she gave me a once-over. “Maybe we can find you something a little better than that dress.”
Haze's jaw flexed again, but he didn't say a word as he held the door open for us. We both climbed into the back seat of the car and, after he got into the driver's seat, I directed him to one of my favorite boutiques. He put on his reflective sunglasses and kept his jaw clenched as he drove us through the busy street.
Paris prattled on as Haze drove and I managed to smile in all the right places to make her think I was paying attention to what she was saying. I wasn't though. All I could think about was trying to figure out what was going on in Haze's head.
When we arrived, I turned my focus to the matter at hand. Shopping.
The first thing Paris tried on was a barely-there beige dress. The effect was scraps of lace covering her, but rather hinting at her nakedness instead of hiding it.
“This should cheer Ricky up, don't you think?” Paris asked. She winked at me. “Especially with nothing under it.”
I balled up a red silk dress and sighed. “Still trying to catch his attention?”
“Oh, I know you two have your whole back and forth
thing, but Ricky's never really lost interest in me,” she said, her voice taking on that patronizing tone I hated. “I hope that doesn't bother you. I mean, Ricky told me you ditched him at some fancy hotel yesterday, so I just assumed it was over.”
“You're not wasting any time.” I rolled my eyes.
“Well, I could waste a little time with the right toy.” Paris gave Haze a meaningful look. “Hey, big guy, I think the zipper might be stuck. Help me out in the dressing room, will you?”
Haze didn't even move, continuing to stare out the front windows of the boutique. Paris brushed against him in the lace dress and sauntered over to the three-way mirror. She tossed her hair and laughed as she admired herself.
“You know me, Leighton, just looking for a little fun,” Paris said. She threw me a look over her shoulder. “I hear you're trying it out yourself. Someone told me you had a wild ride with a sugar daddy yesterday.”
A movement caught my attention. Haze was clenching his fist. Paris noticed too.
“Sore subject?” She grinned at me.
She was trying to provoke me and I knew it. Paris was jealous. She always wanted what other people had. I'd been like that before, but now...I couldn't even stand to be in the same store as her. I needed to cut this short.
Paris seemed to read my thoughts. “It must be hard keeping a low profile, especially for you. I mean, if the media found out you were fucking Captain America over there, they'd have a field day. What would people think? What would your grandfather think?”
I tossed the red silk dress back on the rack. “I don't see anything here I want. Should we go?”
“Go ahead.” She smirked. “I can't blame you for running off with that hunk while Ricky's out cold.”
I was too disgusted to say anything, and before Haze even turned around, I stormed out the door and down the sidewalk. Bright flashes blinded my eyes and a crowd surged around me.
The whole thing took only a few seconds and then I was caught.
“Leighton, Leighton, is it true you're sleeping with a 'super soldier?'”
“Does Special Forces extend to the bedroom? What's he like?”
“Leighton, tell us about the real Captain America. Is the sex explosive?”
Paris waved from the boutique window, a pleased expression on her face.
She set me up.
Bitch.
Chapter 19
Haze
“Don't worry, she'll be fine,” Paris said, even as I was moving toward the door.
Leighton disappeared from my line of sight faster than I'd been able to think. Paris moved to the window and waved as I pushed past her. I couldn't see where Leighton had gone, but there was commotion on the street.
“It's nothing to worry about. Just a little paparazzi. Leighton loves the spotlight, and I'm sure she's been dying to get back into the media,” Paris said. “Now, about my zipper...”
“You're disgusting,” I said as I shoved her away from me and ran for the door.
By the time I reached her, there was a knot of people between us. Now I could hear people behind me yelling at Paris too.
“Paris, wave! That's it. Gorgeous dress. Who's it for?”
Suddenly, I realized what happened. Paris must have called all the media outlets she could think of and told them exactly where she and Leighton would be.
Bitch.
If she thought I'd let her anywhere near Leighton after this, she was crazy.
I could barely see Leighton's red hair as she was woven into the center of an impenetrable crowd. Flashes exploded all around and I fought off the urge to use my combat training to clear my path. I pushed people aside, but they fought their way back. Finally, I gave up being gentle and sliced through the crowd to get to Leighton.
“Is it true you cheated on Ricky Gardener? The millionaire's really out of the picture?”
When I reached her, relief flooded me. I touched her arm and she recoiled as if I’d burned her. Then her eyes met mine and the force of what I saw there almost made me forget where we were. All I wanted to do was wrap my arms around her and never let her go.
“Is this him? Super Soldier, look this way.”
“Take your sunglasses off. Smile.”
“Give him a kiss, Leighton. Go on, Captain America, grab your girl.”
The flashes increased until it was impossible to see past the first ring of paparazzi. It was a good thing I didn't need to see. I had the street memorized. Our best chance was to push toward the street. It was impossible not to snap back at the questions and increasing innuendos, and I knew things were about to get worse. I needed to pull Leighton close to stop the crowd from reaching her.
The moment my arm went around her, the crowd went wild.
“That's it, Soldier. How about you fling her over your shoulder?”
“Come on, Leighton. One kiss for your hero. The hunk deserves a little lovin' for saving you.”
I shoved paparazzi aside with my free arm, not caring when two tripped off the curb and fell to the hard concrete. Once on the street, there was still nowhere to go. Photographers stopped cars as they stood in the center of the two lanes and flashed their cameras. A camera crew and entertainment anchor jumped out of a van, and I couldn't find an opening anywhere.
“It's good to know you support the troops, Leighton. What else are you going to do for our servicemen?”
“Is it the uniform that does it for you, Leighton?”
“What message do you have for the men still overseas?"
As more paparazzi picked up on the army angle, the questions got more intense. They realized the story was more than just a rich girl and her new boyfriend, which meant they could milk this for a lot more. I guided Leighton with my arm, trying to get her across the street and into a building with a back entrance.
“Is it true your brother just re-enlisted in the army?”
“Are you planning on seducing his commanding officer to keep him safe overseas?”
“Pulling more than strings to get your brother home safe, Leighton?”
Her heel caught on the curb as we rushed along and Leighton grabbed my arm to keep from falling. I looked down at her and saw the pleading there.
“Get me out of here, Haze. Please.”
The questions about her brother were hitting too close to home, and I could see she was ready to crack. She needed to get away from the photographers before they saw her breaking down. If they noticed her polite smile slipping, they'd go for blood.
I shoved aside the entertainment anchor and cracked the camera into the cameraman's face. With them stumbling back, we had a clear path toward an office building's front doors.
We ran.
The irate building security guards were helpless against the tide of paparazzi on our heels. One tried to stop me, but I held him back and got Leighton past him to the bank of elevators. She dove toward an open elevator.
“Not there. We're going to keep going, around the corner to the stairs,” I spoke low in her ear as I shielded her with my body so no one could see what we were doing. Then I leaned into the elevator, pressed as many floor buttons as I could, and pretended to talk to her as the doors closed.
Paparazzi were fighting their way past the building security and yelling to each other that Leighton was in the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, I took off for the stairwell. As soon as I went through the doorway, I found her standing on the landing with her face in her hands.
“Quick, downstairs,” I said.
We ran down a flight of stairs to a locked door marked 'Building Maintenance Only.' I kicked the door open and pushed inside just as the stairwell door above us opened.
“The elevator's stopping on three. Go, go,” the entertainment anchor said.
Footsteps ran up the stairs as I pushed the maintenance door closed and blocked it with a heavy metal tool kit. When I turned around, Leighton was standing in the middle of the basement hall looking completely at a loss. Metal ducts and damp pipes ran over her he
ad and the only light was a few bare bulbs stretching down the length of the cement floor hallway.
“Please tell me there is a way out of here,” she said.
“There always is, but we have to hurry,” I said.
We ran as far as the hallway stretched and stopped at the emergency exit. This was our way out, but we couldn't go barreling through. As we stopped, Leighton wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.
“Just give me a second to disarm this and we're good,” I said, trying not to think about holding her. Right now, she needed protection, not comfort.
She nodded, but fear burst into her eyes as we heard the maintenance door rattling. Shit. Some of those assholes had figured out what we'd done and were trying to get inside the blocked door.
I untangled the wires controlling the fire alarm on the door and quickly clipped one before tucking the knot back in place. Stuff like this wasn't my forte, but I'd learned enough to do what I had to do. When I pushed the door open, we held our breath, but no alarm sounded. I pulled Leighton into the emergency stairwell and closed the door behind us just in time.
From inside the dark stairwell, we heard four or five voices rushing through the maintenance hallway. They paused at the emergency door, but didn't seem to notice the alarm. A few seconds later, they discovered the other stairwell that led to the back alley and charged up those stairs.
I grabbed Leighton's phone. “I'm getting a driver here. Someone has to be close. I'm also getting a few decoy cars. Don't worry, we'll get you out of here.”
Once the messages were sent, and the plan was in motion, I put the phone back in her purse and pulled her close. Her entire body was shaking, shivering, and I knew it wasn't from the temperature.
I tucked her against my chest and pressed my lips to the top of her head. “It's alright. You're safe. I won’t let anyone else get to you.”
She kept her arms tight over her chest, but let me keep her in my arms. “Paris did this to me on purpose,” she said quietly. “Now that they've got a good story line, the paparazzi will never leave me alone.”