Page 2 of South Beach Bodyguards

Or until I stepped back and closed the liner and the bathroom door.

Funny how those very rational thoughts came last.

I dropped my gaze, determined to pull it together and be respectful. It was something I prided myself on- I wasn’t charming, but I was respectful of women. My personal code of honor.

“When you’re finished, I’ll be in the living room. Have you eaten? Would you like some pizza?”

“Yum!” she said and her voice was sunny and cheerful. “Thanks!”

I fell back. This was just weird. That didn’t even sound like Isabel. “There are towels under the sink. Come out when you’re ready… and dressed.” That didn’t seem like something I needed to point out, but for my own sanity it needed to be clear.

I shut the bathroom door behind me and shoved my gun back into my waistband. Running my fingers through my hand I swore under my breath and pulled my phone out as I went into my kitchen. Beer. I needed one, hard core. I popped a top then took a swill, flipping open my laptop on the counter to order a pizza. That done, I called my dad.

“You home?” he said as a greeting. “How is she?”

“Naked,” I said flatly, astonished.

“What? What the hell, Ryan? Don’t be taking advantage of Isabel. What is wrong with you?”

That was rich. I snorted. “Dad, I walked in to my apartment to find her in my shower, acting like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Explain to me what is going on please, before I get pissed off.”

“We have a situation. Kim called me. She came home, found Isabel in the house at the bottom of the steps, bleeding from a head wound. The ER says she’s fine, but Isabel doesn’t remember what happened. I can’t be too careful, you know what I’m saying? So while I’m looking into it, I needed a safe house for her and you’re it.”

That was exactly the last thing he could say to prevent me from getting angry. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I glanced back to make sure the bathroom door was still closed. “You think your shady business dealings have bled over onto Isabel? That’s just great, Dad. She’s about as innocent as they come.” She was. Naïve, too. She had seemed to me like the kind of girl who trusted people on sight for no reason. It was unnerving as hell.

“I know she’s innocent. That’s why I need you to look out for her.”

I took another pull on my beer, needing a second before I spoke to keep the edge out of my voice. “Thanks for asking if I want to be involved, by the way.”

Mickey gave a scoff. “It’s family and you’ll do what you’re told. Why wouldn’t you want to help your stepsister?”

“She’s not my stepsister. You were married to Kim for about thirty seconds.”

“Stop being a smartass. Just keep her there until you hear from me.”

He hung up.

Just like that. He just hung up. Yep, still an asshole.

But he was a smart asshole. He knew what he was doing and he knew how I would react. I would never put Isabel in jeopardy and I would never toss her out of my apartment until I knew she was safe. I dumped my phone on the countertop and put my hand on my hip. Glancing back at the bathroom, like that was going to tell me anything, I decided to take my gun out of my waistband and put it up in the cabinet until I could have a gun safety conversation with Isabel.

Then I checked the lock on the door, and flipped the blinds open slightly to see what was going on in the parking lot of the apartment complex and on Harding Avenue behind it. Nothing out of the ordinary. My elderly neighbor and her dog had gone in and there wasn’t much movement on the sidewalks, just traffic that was already thinning. I had nothing to go on. Dad had a ton of enemies, his business dealings always very heavily into the gray territory. His security business was legitimate or I wouldn’t work there, but the other ventures, like the real estate and the nightclubs and the car dealership? I didn’t know and I didn’t want to know. But that meant I knew next to nothing about who might be after him, or want to teach him a lesson.

Though it seemed to me if someone wanted to hurt my father, they would have gone for Kim, not Isabel. But Kim and Isabel lived in the house in the Gables that my father had given her as a parting divorce present. So maybe they’d popped Isabel by accident? I had no idea and it was giving me a headache. I felt a pit in my gut over the thought that Isabel had been cracked on the skull. She could have been killed.

Yet when she emerged from the bathroom, humming to herself, and wearing nothing but a very tight T-shirt and panties, she didn’t seem like she was the least bit afraid or in any pain.

She smiled at me. “Ah, that feels better. That blood was killer to get out of my hair.” Then she suddenly frowned at me. “Wait. Why did I have blood in my hair?”

“Um…” The what-the-fuck-moments just kept coming. “Your mom found you at the bottom of the stairs, Isabel. You hit your head. Don’t you remember going to the hospital?” And for fuck’s sake, didn’t she remember she had arrived wearing pants? I couldn’t find anywhere to look that wasn’t a danger zone. Her shirt was clinging to her like a second skin, her nipples poking through the thin cotton. It skimmed her waist and there was a smooth ribbon of flesh between her shirt and her extremely tiny pink panties.

She bent over the kitchen counter, so that she could lean on it, propping her head up with her hand, sending her ass jutting out. My throat went tight. My hands shook a little when I reached for my beer again. Look. Don’t touch. Then I mentally slapped myself. I couldn’t even look.

“Why did you just call me Isabel?”

And it just got weirder. “Because that’s your name.”

“No, it’s not. It’s Julia.” She gave me a sultry, flirtatious smile. “Are you teasing me?”

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