Page 12 of The Bodyguard

Not really an answer, but it doesn’t seem like he wants to expand on that, so I leave it alone.

“Do you like it?”

He frowns. “Do I like what?”

“Your job.”

He starts looking around the garden, at the wall that separates my property from the street and the beach across the road. “It has its moments.”

“What about days off? Do you have any – I don’t know, hobbies?”

He casts me a brief glance. “This isn’t the kind of profession that comes with days off.”

No. I can imagine it isn’t. “You know, if you really didn’t want to be here, why did you take this job?”

“I don’t get to pick and choose. I go where I’m told.”

I take another swig of beer and watch him as he walks over to the wall, he’s tall enough to be able to see over it. Tall, and strikingly handsome, there’s no getting away from that. This unwanted stranger, with his strong jaw-line, straight nose, clear blue eyes and hair that has streaks of many different shades of blond running through it, I can see that now as the sun hits it. Yeah, okay, I’ll admit it, he’s incredibly easy on the eye. And I smile to myself, I mean, I’m slowly warming to the fact that if I have to have a bodyguard I might as well have a hot-as-hell one, right? I’m clinging onto the positives here, few as they are.

“I’m going to take a look around outside.”

“You mean you’re leaving me? Alone?”

He glances at me again, and there’s a hint of weariness in his expression now. He’s obviously not a fan of my sarcasm.

“Stay here.”

And I’m not a fan of him issuing orders, but I’m also not in the mood to argue with him.

He disappears out of the back gate, and I sit down at the table and close my eyes, just for a moment, and I listen to the sound of the seagulls and the faint crashing of the waves. I love those sounds. I’ve spent many a happy hour sitting out here, listening to the sounds of the beach and this picturesque coastline and I know how lucky I am to have grown up in such a beautiful place. And, as I often do when the peace and tranquillity hits, I wish that my family was ordinary. Normal. I love my father with every inch of me, of course I do, but the man he is, I’m tired of being scared for him. Tired of worrying about him, wondering when we’re going to get that call that tells us something awful’s happened…

“This place isn’t safe.”

I open my eyes and sit up, sliding my dark glasses down from my head. “I’ve lived here for years without any problems.”

“Things have changed.” Bodie looks at me. “If they hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

I get up, facing him head on. “I’m getting really tired of my father, Ollie: you, all of you, telling me that this – thatyouare necessary without any of you actually telling me why. If I’m in fucking danger I deserve to know the risks. I deserve to know.”

I start to walk away, back inside, but he grabs my arm to stop me, his eyes burning into mine. “Listen, sweetheart, I think we’ve already ascertained that neither of us are particularly happy about this situation, but it’s happening. Get used to it. And don’t take your shit out on me, okay? You’re pissed off? Go talk to daddy.”

He lets go of me, and I stare after him as he strides back inside, and I want to yell after him, tell him he doesn’t get to speak to me that way, he needs to show some respect, but I’m really not up for a fight.

I go back into the kitchen, locking the French doors behind me, and Bodie’s in there, checking his phone, he doesn’t look at me as I pass. Arrogant prick.

Out in the hall I start gathering my things together, it’s time to get out of here. And as I bend down to pick up my bag I notice a photograph of me and David on the hall table. I left it there on purpose, even after he’d left, maybe just to remind myself that I wasn’t always alone, I don’t know, but I’m getting rid of the thing now. I drop my bag, pick up the photograph and take it into the kitchen, dropping it into the bin by the door.

“Obviously not something you want to remember then, huh?”

I spin around at the sound of his voice, I’d forgotten he was still in here.

“An unhappy memory, maybe?”

I stare at him, he’s getting fuck all out of me.

“Okay,” he sighs, pulling himself away from the wall. “If you don’t want to talk…”

He leaves that sentence there and heads out of the kitchen, but I give it a second or two before I follow him. Yeah, it really is time to get out of here.

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