Page 8 of Protecting Hailey

I called my pilot and arranged for him to fly me to Los Angeles immediately.

3

Christian

Shortly after touching down in L.A., I visited an army friend’s auto body shop.

He threw the keys at me as soon as I walked in. “I filled up the tank for you.”

“Thanks, man.” I inspected the large black SUV parked out front and ran my fingers along the tinted windows. “Completely bullet-proof like I asked?”

“Every inch of her,” he said with a grin.

“Nice work.”

“Yeah, I have a couple of customers that rent her out from time to time.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have more in this town.”

He raised his eyebrow. “I was just being modest, my friend.”

I chuckled and shook his hand before climbing into the vehicle.

I was familiar with the streets of L.A., having lived here for several years during my teens. As a military family, we moved around a lot.

The traffic was just as terrible as I remembered it. I tried to avoid rush hour, but in L.A. the smallest accident put rush hour in any other town to shame.

I checked my watch again and calculated how much time I had left to prepare Hailey’s home. The three-hour time difference worked in my favor, having only lost two of the five flight hours. It was nearly six o’clock and only a couple of hours until sunset.

Ten minutes later, traffic lightened, and I exited the ramp toward the Hollywood Hills.

As I drove up the mountain, I couldn’t help but glance over the horizon. The view from the mountainside was spectacular. Hundreds of homes were scattered across the hills and looked down at the vibrant city below. If the boys hadn’t wanted to stay on the East Coast, I would have settled here. But they had become family and so New York was now home.

I pulled up in front of a black iron gate and pressed the white telecom button. “Yes?” a voice called from the other side.

“My name is Christian Machado and I’m Hailey’s new bodyguard.”

The camera beside the speaker whirled as it zoomed in on my face.

A few seconds later, the gate unlocked and opened wide.

I drove up the circular driveway and parked in front of the large double doors. Before I went inside, I walked around the perimeter of the house. There were mainly cacti and aloe vera plants around the sides, but as I turned into the backyard, there were more colorful flowers and bushes surrounding a fenced-off pool.

There was a guest house back here, and I checked if the door was locked. It wasn’t, and I made a note to discuss this with the house staff. Anyone could hide inside there.

Once I ensured the guest house was empty, I walked across the patio to the other side of the house. There were more plants and shrubs here, too.

Everything appeared to be in order, so I walked up to the front door and knocked.

Anne answered the door wearing a flowery blue summer dress and wedge sandals. “Hi, Christian. So glad to see you. I’m already impressed at how thorough you’ve been.”

She ushered me inside and my eyes scanned the place. There was a large marble foyer in the center of the home, with a staircase leading to the second floor behind it. A large piano sat on the right side with white couches around it, and on the opposite side was another seating area with a bar and bookshelves. Those rooms comprised most of the main floor that I could see besides the windows facing the pool at the back of the house.

It was a nice house. A little smaller than some other celebrity homes I’d been in, but I liked her style: modern, clean lines, and no clutter. It reminded me of home. When I was a kid, my father insisted I made my bed every morning before school, even if he was away on tour.

“Is there anything I can do to help you set up?” asked Mrs. Jones. “Can I show you around the place?”

I shook my head. “I’d like to take my time and inspect everything if that’s ok. I won’t go into any dressers or drawers, but I will enter all the rooms.”

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