Page 58 of Silk and Steel

“I’m not going to lay a finger on any of these idiots,” I say before exiting the truck. Of course, mentally, I’m thinkingunless they force me to.

I march over to one of the protestors, the one with the megaphone.

“Why should the children of Los Angeles suffer because some bleach blonde bubblehead dancer is–”

“Hey, pal, let me see that for a second,” I say, snatching it out of his hand.

“What the fuck? Give that…”

He looks me in the eye, and sees that I’m in no mood. He closes his mouth, looking flustered.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give it right back.” I put the megaphone to my mouth and turn the volume all the way up.

“Everyone. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

Not everyone complies, but the crowd quiets down considerably. I jump up onto one of the hastily erected barricades to get more attention.

“What in the Hell is your problem?” I bellow at the protestors. “Emory Thorne is a victim! You people are just doing exactly what the piece of shit who hurt those kids wants you to! Go home!”

Something flies out of the crowd. An empty beer bottle. It spirals toward my head. I snap my hand out and catch it.

“The next mother fucker who throws something gets this shoved where the sun don’t shine,” I bellow through the megaphone. “You’re not helping. All you’re doing is making it worse. Just go home.”

The protestors begin to disperse. The counter protestors give a ragged cheer. That pisses me off, too.

“You people shut up! You’re not much better. You don’t need to be here, either. Go home, all of you.”

I turn back to the protestors who still haven’t left.

“Shame on you! Emory should not have to sacrifice herself to a madman, no matter what he says he’ll do. Shame on you all.”

I don’t sound nearly as angry, but for some reason the calmer tone works. The remaining protestors start to disperse, on both sides. I hand the megaphone back to the protestor. It looks like I got through to him. He knows he’s been acting like an ass, and doesn’t even meet my gaze when he takes the megaphone back.

I get back in the truck and put it in drive, still fuming. Emory gives me a grateful look.

“Thank you.”

“Ah, they’re a bunch of morons.”

“You stood up for me. That’s huge, and I won’t forget it.”

I chuckle and shrug while we wait for the rest of the protestors and police to clear the path into the studio.

“You are paying me. I just want to make sure you get your money’s worth.”

A sour look crosses Emory’s face.

“Cole, I think we’ve moved past you being my employee. Haven’t we?”

I flinch at the plaintive note in her voice. Reaching out, I take her hand in my own and squeeze it tightly.

“Yes, we’ve moved past that. Way past it. I’m still your bodyguard, but…let’s say I’m highly motivated to keep you safe. Very highly motivated.”

I don’t say it out loud, but I already know I’d die for Emory. If spending my life would keep her safe, I’d do it in a heartbeat.

“When this is over, what’s going to happen?” she asks softly.

“I don’t know. I imagine Lovejoy and his accomplices will be locked up in a high security prison permanently, if they don’t get the death penalty.”

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