Page 19 of Protector

“Yeah, see you.” Shay throws a sweet smile over her shoulder before striding up to rejoin Cal.

The chaos of the club has me on high-alert, especially after what just happened. It’s not the ideal situation, but given the crowds, I don’t see her stalker trying something with so many witnesses. I didn’t bring my firearm because I assumed we’d be checked at the door—which we weren’t—but I’ve got my knife as my backup. I can’t imagine needing either in this type of situation, but you never know.

I take hold of Shay’s arm just as her face lights up, and she says, “There’s Margo!” Cal takes off toward a group of young women, and Shay turns to face me. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I’m going to hang back, give you your space,butdon’t take off on me.” I gesture over to the bar. “I’ll be sitting right there.”

She nods. “I take it you don’t want to meet my friends?”

“I’m good.” I’ll avoid having to be in Uncle Todd mode as much as possible. “As long as I can see you from the bar, and you’re just with your friends, I’m good.”

Shay gestures around the room. “Trust me, there’s way more famous people here than me, so you don’t have to worry about me getting lots of attention tonight.”

I scan her from head to toe, noting how the lights in the room highlight the exposed skin from her dress. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

She grins but quickly hides it away. “I just meant…in a place like this, most people don’t care who I am.”

I doubt that as well, but then another thought occurs to me. “And what happens when you start filming this new show? Seems all that will change.” And if we don’t have this situation taken care of by that time, it will make my job much harder.

Her expression shifts, looking thoughtful as if it’s something she’s either worried about or hasn’t realized. “I suppose so.”

“You don’t seem too happy about it. Is it only because of…him?” Assuming this Stalker Sam is a him. We can’t afford not to consider all possibilities.

“Shay Bae! Come on,” a young woman shouts from the group, and Shay looks over her shoulder.

When she turns back, I say, “Go ahead.”

One side of her mouth turns up, and her eyes fall down to my hand still holding her arm. “I’m going to need that back first.”

It doesn’t feel good to release my hold on her, and I’m not sure if it’s the situation or something more. Shay has such a sweet, endearing personality that contradicts the look I often see on her gorgeous face. I suppose being a model, she’s used to putting up that mask, but even as alluring as she is, seeing her innocence peeking out from under it is all the more attractive.

As I head over to the bar and slip onto a stool, something hard and dirty lands in my gut. I push the thought away because I’ll be damned if I’m going to admit that I hate the thought of some undeserving asshole getting a taste of either side of Shay. If what I’ve read so far about her choices in men is true, undeserving asshole is spot on and in the odds.

I order my standard drink of whiskey, planning to milk it so I can rent this seat. Not to mention three fingers of the amber liquid gets me to my sweet spot between highly alert and blending in.

Trying not to look like a complete creeper, I don’t keep my eyes trained on my charge the whole time. She’s standing around a tall table with three other young women and two guys who all seem harmless as they talk, drink, laugh, and intermittently type on their phones and take selfies. Those fucking selfies.

After an hour into the night, Shay and two of her friends—Cal being one of them—move a few yards away and start dancing. Cal looks like a professional who belongs on a stage or in a go-go cage or something.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t keep my gaze from bouncing back to Shay. And now that she’s dancing…Hell, I’d hate to be her father. “Shit!” I hiss under my breath. I did not just compare myself to her daddy while my skin heats up watching her sway those curvy hips to the music.

“You all right?”

I turn my head to the left to find a wide grin, model good looks, and blond hair cut short and tight—she has less hair than most men I know, but it works for her. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Buy me a drink?” she says, switching gears so fast I laugh.

“Sure.” I wave to the bartender and show him two fingers, indicating a refill for me and another for her.

She puts her hand on my arm. “I was going to order a white wine.”

I turn away to check on Shay, then give the woman my attention once more. “I’m buying, I’m picking.”

Her brows rise. “Oh, I see. Okay, then.” She smiles.

Moments later the drinks come, and she lifts hers. I simply nod and leave mine sitting. I may or may not drink it, depending on how long we’re going to be at this club.

“Thank you.” She sips and sets down the glass. “I’m Roni.”

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