Page 67 of Protector

Reading my mind, Lisa says, “When was the last time you ate?”

I shrug and look in the mirror.

“Girl, do you need me to get something for you?”

“Not yet.” I prefer smoothies, so I plan to get one as soon as I’m done here.

Then Lisa switches gears once again and launches into a story about her time as a makeup artist for a drag show in Vegas. She barely stopped to take a breath before I got out of that chair, but it was a nice distraction. Still, the moment I stand, all the dreaded thoughts and anxiety come flooding back. My mind whirls as I scan around, looking for Brooks, my breathing becoming labored. And now I realize the fear, this overwhelming sense of dread I’ve felt since we arrived and keep pushing back—it’s less about me and more about Brooks. My fears are not for my safety…they’re for Brooks’s. I need to get to the dressing room for my first outfit, but I need to see Brooks now, so I send him a message.

Shay: I need you, now, please.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

Brooks

I keep a brisk pace as I head to where Shay told me to meet her.No reason to panic. I know she’s fine, but it’s unnerving I have to remind myself of that. Just the fact that she needs me, for whatever reason, sends my heart into overdrive. As much as I try to stay focused on the job, I can’t separate my feelings for Shaylene from what I need to do today. That girl has my heart securely and permanently tethered to hers, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

I swipe my gaze left and right as I enter the backstage area, among the rows of makeup chairs, women getting done up, hair teased, some getting lathered in body makeup. Then, I find Shay leaning in a doorway, barefoot and wearing a short blue robe. I barely get a glimpse of her completely made-up face because she wraps her arms around my neck.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I just needed to feel you once more before the show starts.”

Holding her, I stay silent and just breathe her in, getting my own fill before the real chaos starts. It might seem like a flurry of activity now, but add in the rushed pace of keeping the flow of the show, and everything is ratcheted up several notches.

Pulling away from each other is painful; Shay’s glossy gaze tells me she feels the same.

I shoot my eyes around quickly to make sure we’re not being watched. A model strolls by, her gaze crawling over the two of us, eyes disapproving. According to Shay, unless you’re a huge star, having your own bodyguard—especially when the brands already have their own security for the show—is considered a diva move.

I adjust my body so I’m blocking Shay’s view. “You look stunning.”

Her lips pull tight as if the compliment means nothing, but still, she says a quiet, “Thank you.”

“You okay?” I take her hand and just say what I’m thinking. “Listen, fuck this whole thing if you’ve changed your mind.”

That makes her grin a little, and she shakes her head. “There’s only one reason I’d back out now.”

“What’s that?” I say, my brows drawing in.

“To keep you safe. I have a bad feeling about this. He hurt you once already. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

I shake my head and scoff. “Bailing on this show has to be your decision, but it will only delay the inevitable…Shay, I won’t stop until I get this guy and make sure you’re safe.” Leaning in, I place a soft kiss on her cheek but then jerk back when I hear someone yell behind me.

“Back off, cowboy. You’re going to screw up my masterpiece.”

I turn and find a tall blonde with a hand on her hip.

“Sorry, Lisa,” Shay says, squeezing my hand.

I notice she doesn’t introduce me, so I don’t say anything either, just nod at the woman. As far as I know, the director and the security detail are the only ones who know of the threat to Shay.

“I better go,” Shay says when Lisa walks off.

“It’s going to be all right. Between the brands’ security, Souza’s extra man, and me, we’ve got great coverage. All the exits and stage access. And you know I’ll be with you every possible second I can.” These shows are very strict about certain areas being off-limits, so when Shay enters the dressing areas, I’ll have to wait outside, then I can follow her until she’s visible to the audience. The tricky part is that she won’t always exit the same side she enters. I’d have to haul ass to make my way around and through the crowd if I want to meet her there. I have to do my best to stay out of the way, but I don’t give a shit if people are annoyed by my presence; If they knew, they’d understand.

One of the show runners rushes up to us, a bouquet of red roses in her hands. “These were just delivered for you, Shay.”

Shay squeezes my hand tighter, looks to me as if she’s unsure whether or not to take them. I can see panic on her face, the rise of her chest as she starts to breathe heavily. With my free hand I take the flowers. “Thanks.” Then I lift a brow that tells the girl to keep moving.

Prying my fingers from Shay’s death grip, I grin and try to lighten the mood. “Well, I know they’re not from me.” Let’s just hope they’re not from Stalker Sam, AKA Aaron, because that’s exactly who Shay thinks they’re from. She’s watching my every move as I slip the card from the top and read it. “They’re from Taylor.Congrats, gorgeous! You’re a star. Love you, Tay.”

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