Page 6 of South Beach Bodyguards

She blinked and nodded, and squeezed Isabel’s hand. “It’s okay… Julia.” She looked like it pained her to say Julia but she forced it out. “There is no reason to get upset, baby. Let’s put you to bed for a nap.” She looked to me for permission. “Can I take her to your room?”

“Of course. I can sleep on the couch tonight. Hopefully by tomorrow we’ll have this all figured out.” I smiled at Isabel, in what I hoped was reassurance. “Don’t worry about not remembering how you fell. You don’t want to stress yourself out.”

She nodded. “Sure. Okay.” Then she turned and went back into my bedroom, closing the door behind her without another word to her mother.

Kim burst into tears. “What is going on? Why is she acting so strange?”

“I think it’s just the concussion.” It was weird, but now that I thought about it, it didn’t seem that off the mark for a blow to the head. She probably should have been in bed right from the minute they’d left the ER. “Don’t let my father scare you. Isabel isn’t in danger.” It was a lie. I didn’t know if she was or she wasn’t, but Kim looked like she needed me to blow smoke up her ass on this one.

“Promise me you’ll protect her if she is. Promise me that, please, Ryan.”

I could promise her I’d protect Isabel with a clear conscience, but I couldn’t promise her I wasn’t going to kill my father. This was such bullshit. Neither Kim nor Isabel deserved to be scared because my father couldn’t keep his nose clean. “I promise, Kim. No one is going to hurt Isabel. Don’t worry.”

She nodded, chewing her lip. “Thank you.”

“Do you have someone you can stay with? I don’t think you should be alone at your house.” The house was surrounded by dense foliage, on a sleepy side street. It was a fantastic old neighborhood with historic homes, but that didn’t mean that it was safe if someone wanted to get to my dad.

“I’m going to stay with Mickey.”

He wouldn’t have been my first choice, but it was probably better not to go dragging anyone else into it, whatever it was. “Okay. I’ll call him and he can pick you up.”

“I’m sure he’s busy. I don’t want to bother him.”

“I’ll fucking bother him.” Then when I saw her stricken face, I tried to soften my words. “Excuse my language.” I wasn’t raised in a barn, but pretty damn close. My father was a criminal and my mother ran off, so I took full responsibility for any shreds of me that were decent, including knowing when to apologize. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to upset you. But I’m angry with Mickey. He should be with you.”

She waved her hand. “He had to work. It’s okay, I understand.”

“I don’t.” But there was no point in me making her feel worse about it so I just shut my damn mouth. “I’m going to call him. Can I get you a drink, or would you like some pizza?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” She smiled at me. “I always told your father you’re a good boy.”

That made me snort. I went for another beer. “I’m sure he disagreed with you on that one.”

For a minute, I thought she was going to try to convince me otherwise, but she remained silent as I opened the refrigerator. “I have to wake up Isabel every two hours, right? Isn’t that protocol after a concussion?”

“That’s what the doctor said.”

When I turned around, she was digging in her purse. “I picked up the pain pills they prescribed for her if she needs them.”

“She doesn’t seem to be in pain.” But I took the pills from Kim and put them in the cupboard next to my gun. “Can you leave me your number? I don’t think I have it.”

After she did, I texted my father and told him he needed to pick up Kim. He called me back. “I’m busy,” he said, as a greeting. “Call one of the other guys to pick her up.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. Call Wester, he’s free right now.”

“Dad, he just got shot. I don’t think he’s up for escort duty.” Wester was a buddy of mine who had taken a bullet out on Star Island at some party gone wrong. I didn’t know the details, just that Wester had been grazed and was in pain and pretty pissed off.

“He’s bored. He’ll be glad to do it.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Could Mickey be any more annoying? I hung up, called Wester, and explained that he needed to provide a safe escort. He said he was in South Beach, so depending on traffic, he’d likely be there in fifteen minutes. I lived in North Beach, which on a map was about 1.5 miles away from South Beach, but in reality that might as well have been twenty miles during tourist season, which we were swinging into.

Once all of that was taken care of, I asked Kim if she knew where Isabel’s phone was.

“It’s in my purse.”

“Can I see it?”

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