Bodyguard: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance (Snake Eyes Book 1) (11 page)

“I know you’re not.” His face hangs low like his words taste like acid.

“Then what’s the problem? You were revved up and ready to go ninety seconds ago. What the hell changed so quickly that made it wrong for you to touch me?”

“Nothing changed. I care about you, Dani.”

“And I care about you. That’s how this is supposed to work, isn’t it? Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy.”

“It’s more complicated than that and you know it.”

“Why? Because our parents are married? Who fucking cares?”

He steps forward, bridging the gap between us with two fast strides. “Because you’re Roxie
fucking
Roberts, Dani. Every move you make is on display. You’re nitpicked and judged for everything you do — that includes
this.
And yes, our parents are married. That immediately makes this bad for you.
I
am bad for you. I don’t belong in your world. I never have. It’s why I left in the first place.”

Tears sting my throat. “Then why the hell did you even come back?”

“Because I’d rather live in a world with you in it than suffer the alternative.” He turns from me and walks away, putting several purposeful feet between us.

“Fox, do you have any idea how lonely it is to be Roxie
fucking
Roberts?” I ask, bile rising in my throat. “I’m surrounded by people
all the time
but they aren’t looking at
me.
They’re looking at my dress or my hair or my damn waistline. They don’t care about who I am or what I think. No one ever has… except for you. Or so I thought.”

He closes his eyes. “Dani… I—”

“So if we’re going to start talking about suffering alternatives, Fox… I think that maybe you should have just stayed dead.” He opens his eyes again, showing a hard sadness. “You should have let me die…” My voice breaks apart. “At least, then I would have felt
that
instead of
this
.”

Fox takes a short step back to me. “Dani, you don’t mean that.”

“What difference does it make? It’s not like I’m irreplaceable. In a few years, there will be another girl, one that’s younger and prettier for everyone to nitpick and judge. No one will even remember my name.”

“I will.”

I inhale deeply. “It’s a nice sentiment, Fox… but you’ve already missed your chance to get in my pants.” I step away from him and he reaches for me.

“Dani, wait—”

“Don’t touch me, Fox.” I jerk away from him and rush for the bathroom before the tears spill over my cheeks.

My body betrays me. I close the door and lock it in a foolish attempt to keep the electric throbbing inside. I could feel it on his skin, too; that same insatiable lust for me as I have for him. It burns now, expecting me to go back to him and let him do whatever he wants to me and my body.

But I can’t do it.

I sit down and hang my head in my hands. My skin is still so hot. I can barely breathe. His hands were all over me. He tasted me like I was a piece of fruit and he’d been hungry for weeks. I still feel the stubble rash along my skin and lips, left behind by the scratch of his beard. It’s passion I’ve never experienced before and feel vastly unprepared for.

But I still want it to badly.

I turn on the sink and fill my palms with cool water to submerge my face in. The icy burn twinges my cheeks. I wince as it runs along the gash, washing salty sweat through the tiny, open wounds between stitches.

My skin pulses with each thump my heart makes. Any moment now, my skin will split open and everything will tumble free— or so it feels.

I put my hand on my chest to feel it and take a long, steady breath in. It’s an old theater trick a director taught me during my first TV job when I got nervous between takes. Put your hand on your heart and remember that it’s all just a machine in there. Machines can be studied and controlled. You’re the master of your machine, not the other way around. It’s silly and not very scientific, but I’ve always used it to calm my nerves when they start to take control of me.

I focus on my breathing for several minutes but I feel no more in control of it than when I began.

That guy was a hack anyway. The show got canceled after three episodes.

I pat my face dry with a towel and step back out into the room.

The television is off. I don’t blame him, I guess. I wouldn’t want to look at me either after that.

I part my lips to say his name but as I scan the room, I notice he’s gone.

I don’t really blame him for that either.

***

Botsford Plaza Hotels are quite possible the gaudiest looking places I’ve ever stayed at — gold fucking
everywhere
— but the staff is always pleasant no matter the location, so it’s a fair trade. This particular location is known for its dual tower design. There must be some kind of local festival happening tonight. I look up into the sky and see long wires connecting the towers with large, colorful lanterns hanging between them. Gaudy as fuck, I say.

Fox pops the trunk and lowers his head down to sift through the black duffel bag of weapons and ammo. He grabs the Model 60 revolver and slips it into his belt. I hold out my hand and he exhales hard before finally handing me the Glock.

“Keep it out of sight,” he says.

Five words. It’s the longest sentence he’s said to me all day long. Seven hours on the road and the most we could manage was brief nudges and monosyllabic mumbles. I suppose it’s better than the awkward alternative of talking about last night.

I hide the gun under my shirt and we make our way across the parking lot towards the hotel.

I glance around the lobby as we step inside and Fox’s shoulders go tense. There’s a party happening tonight and the entire lobby is packed to the brim with people in cocktail dresses and tuxedos. It’s not even nine o’clock yet and their cheeks are already pink with caviar and alcohol.

I follow Fox, lingering a few feet behind him with my sunglasses on, as he wanders over to the front desk in the corner.

“We’d like a room, please,” he tells the girl behind the desk.

She smiles wide and her eyes shift between us. “One bed?” she assumes.

“Two,”
I mutter. “For the love of god,
two
.”

Fox forces a grin. “Two beds, please.”

She returns the smile and taps away at her computer. I feel his eyes on me, but I keep my head down like he asked me to. This isn’t a diner on the highway. It’s a big hotel in the middle of a city. Excellent chance for me to get recognized.

“Room 2617, sir.” She slides two key cards across the counter and Fox takes them. “Do you have any bags?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Have a good night.”

“Thank you.” He nudges my elbow. “Come on.”

“Holy shit! Fox!”

His grip latches around my arm but quickly drops again as he recognizes the voice. We turn around to see a short man in a deep blue suit with thick-rimmed, black glasses walking towards us with his arms stretched wide.

“Boxcar!” Fox smiles wide as they throw their arms around each other. I stand back to keep from getting hit by their sloppy man hug.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t show…” Boxcar grins at him. “You didn’t even show up to your own funeral, after all.”

“I sent flowers,” Fox jokes.

Boxcar laughs and his eyes fall to me. His eyes twinkle in recognition behind his frames, but he doesn’t say a word. “So—” He looks at Fox. “You have something important for me to crack into, yes? Or can it wait until after the party? I can decrypt sober or sloshed, makes no difference.”

“You’re a talented man.” Fox tilts his head. “But time is a factor.”

“No problem. My laptop is upstairs.”

As interesting as this Boxcar character is, I’d rather not sit around and listen to them drone on about Fox’s army days. I reach out and snatch a key card from Fox’s hand. “2617, right?”

“Dani—”

“I’m going to go lay down,” I say quickly before he can complain. “Come get me when you’re done.”

He inhales fast but doesn’t attempt to argue as I turn around and make my way through the crowded lobby towards the golden elevator in the corner.

Chapter 11

Fox

“That’s
her
, huh?”

I watch as the elevator doors close on Dani’s down-turned face. “Yeah,” I answer. “That’s
her
.”

Boxcar nods with approval. “Good disguise.”

“Thanks.”

“So, what’d ya do?”

I sigh and tilt my neck until it pops. “Nothing. That’s the problem.”

He winces. “Ugh — I call that one the Caleb Special.”

“She says hello, by the way.”

“Pfft —
bullshit
. No, she fucking doesn’t.” We step towards the elevators and he taps the call button. “You still hanging around with that hag?”

I chuckle as the doors open and we step onto the empty elevator. “You two are made for each other, you know that, right?”

“Nope.” He rolls his hand into a fist and punches the button for the fifteenth floor.

“I told her you’d take care of some debts for her as thanks for helping me out,” I say, my lips curling. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Boxcar throws his head back. “
Come on, man.
Why would you do that? Now I’m obligated to help her.”

“You don’t have to even talk to her, Box. Just delete a few zeroes from her record and you’ll be square.”

“I don’t want to be
square
with Caleb. I liked the freaky trapezoid. It was comforting to know that I always had the upper hand on her.”

“Hasn’t this gone on long enough between you two?” I ask, feeling the rush of ascension. “Don’t you ever just want to make amends and be together again like a normal couple?”

“Nope.” He shakes his head with unmoving eyes. “Never again. Not with her.”

“What? You don’t believe in second chances, Box?”

He peeks at me over his glasses. “Never give a second chance to a girl with a boy’s name. It’s science. And for the record, I don’t think a man in love with his stepsister has the right to use the phrase
normal couple
when dispensing relationship advice.”

“Fair point.”

“You know,” he continues, “you could probably benefit from that wisdom at the moment.”

“Kind of need to have a first chance before worrying about a second.”

“And I
didn’t
just witness a first chance crashing and burning down in the lobby just now?”

I wince. “Maybe.”

The elevator dings and we step off onto the fifteenth floor. “But enough about
women
,” he says, waving a hand. “I want to hear about
you
and this epic journey of yours to the underworld and back.” I pause by the door as he slides his key card in. Then he studies my face. “It’s about a woman, isn’t it?”

“Pretty much.”

He sighs with rolling eyes. “All right— let’s hear it.”

We walk in and Boxcar crosses to the table by the window and folds his laptop open. I reach into my pocket for the flash drive. “I have a file on here that needs to be decrypted.”

“As you mentioned.” He cracks his knuckles and I hand him the drive. He pinches it between two fingers and points it at his USB port. “What’s on it?”

“The Snake Eyes master file.”

Boxcar drops the drive and it clatters against the keyboard. “Dude.” He sits back in his chair, his eyes sparkling like jewels. “The
what
?”

“The Snake Eyes master file.”

“Yeah, I heard you the
first
time. How the hell did you get it?”

“I stole it.”

He scoffs loudly. “From
where
?” I stare at him for several moments until his jaw drops. “And suddenly, it all comes together.”

“Box…”

“
That’s
where you’ve been?!”

“You’re shouting.”

“You’re damn right I’m shouting!” His mouth contorts, shifting between gasps and grins. “You’re in
Snake Eyes
?!”

“Not anymore.”

“Holy fucking shit, man!” He pushes his hands through his hair, ruffling it bad, but I doubt he cares. “This is
huge
.”

“What exactly were you expecting?” I ask. “I came back from the dead to hand that to you.”

He exhales. “Fox, when I woke up this morning, I certainly was not expecting to hack into the master file of the most deadly underground organization on the planet. And I say that with the greatest of respect and fear. Quite frankly, I’m appalled you even joined.”

“They didn’t give me much choice.”

“Yeah, I hear their recruitment tactics are a bit
medieval
. Never mind how you got in — how the hell did you even get out?”

“It’s a long story… but it involves me, a Russian mobster, an Italian girl, and a gunshot wound.”

“His or yours?”

“Mine.”

He sighs with admiration. “You’re a real badass, you know that, Fox?”

I smile.

“Wait—” He points a finger at my chest. “Do you have the tat?”

“Yes,” I nod. “I have the tattoo.”

“Can I see it?”

“Box—”

“Dude, you
have
to let me see it.”

I roll up my shirt, exposing the black cobra inked on my torso, and his eyebrows bounce with wonder. “Happy?”

He smirks. “Damn, you’re
taut
.”

I drop it back down. “Decrypt the file, Box.”

He hesitates for a few moments with his fingers tapping against his knees. “Fox… I have to ask.”

“Why do I need the file?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, how else would you expose the most deadly underground organization on the planet?”

“I was afraid of that…” He scratches his head. “You
don’t
. That’s the answer to that question. You fucking
don’t.
”

“I’m not here to debate it, Boxcar. I just need the file and then… you might want to lay low for a while.”

“Yeah, no shit. I’d ask why you’re so keen on killing yourself, but I’m pretty sure I already know the answer to that question.”