Page 11 of Hollywood

“And that is still not a fucking answer,” she shot back even as she shivered at my words.

I closed the door behind us and removed my arm because she smelled too good, and her trembling frame made it hard to focus. “You’re right, it’s not.” I raked a hand through my hair and shook it out before I looked her straight in those mesmerizing eyes. “Winston got himself into a bit of trouble by accident.” I gave her an abbreviated version of the story he relayed to me. “It looks like it’s some sort of scam.”

She snorted and shook her head. “Dad never did have the best instincts.”

“It’s not just that, Winter. They’ve been trying to shake him down for weeks and when it didn’t work, they threatened you. They sent him a photo of you today, that’s why I was there. To get you.”

Disbelief darkened her gaze. “No.”

I didn’t have time to go back and forth so I pulled out my phone and showed her the message Winston forwarded to me. “They blurred the background, but my Tech Captain did some shit and figured out where you were.”

Acceptance came quickly as she dropped down onto the bed with a grunt. “I’m surprised he talked to you about it. He’s been nothing but tight-lipped with me.”

“Yeah well, you’d be surprised the lengths a man will go to save his kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” she reminded me, as if I needed the reminder.

“Believe me, I know. But you’ll always be his little girl, and I promised him I wouldn’t let any harm come to you.” Staring at her now in cutoff denim shorts that put thick thighs and a tiny waist on display, I wondered if I was too hasty making that promise to Winston. “From this moment forward I’m in charge of your safety and that means that you won’t be leaving my side for the foreseeable future.” An hour ago that was an easy plan to make, now though it seemed like a form of torture.

The shocked expression on her face was worth the bomb I’d dropped, even as she crossed her arms under her tits, damn near shoving them in my face. “Why you?” She frowned. “No offense, I just mean why not go to the cops?” She was genuinely confused and that was kind of cute, but also fucking terrifying.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m not.”

I bit back a laugh. “Because the cops can’t do what I can. They won’t act until you’ve already been taken or worse, hurt. The law isn’t exactly my style and if Winston thought it was an option he would’ve gone to them weeks ago. Hell, he probably did.” He hadn’t mentioned it but Winston was squeaky clean so I imagine he went to the cops, and they promised they’d look into it or told him they couldn’t do anything about what they would’ve perceived as a compliment.

“The law isn’t your style, huh?” She studied my face carefully, taking in all the details, at least it seemed that way. “Is it because of your time in prison?”

“Nah, I didn’t think much of them before then either. My time in prison,” I sighed. “I did what I did. It was a fight thatwent sideways, and I had to pay for it because the government said so, but that has little to do with my feelings about cops.”

“Tell me.” It wasn’t a challenge so much as it was genuine curiosity.

“They’re housekeepers,” I informed her casually. “They come in after the damage is done to clean up and assign blame. They do next to nothing to stop actual harm from coming to people and that’s why Winston called me because even a straight arrow like him knows that’s the truth.”

What little bit of energy she had left seemed to seep slowly from her body as she sank into the mattress. “Thank you for coming to save me. To save us,” she amended. “I really, really appreciate it.”

“Of course. I’d never let anything happen to you Winter.”

She nodded and pushed up on her elbows, the pose gave me a fucking incredible view of every inch of her. “So what now? I start classes at community college in a few weeks.”

I smiled and dropped down on the bed beside her. “I thought about going to college a time or two. I guess now I’ll get the chance.”

Chapter Eight

Winter

Torture. It was absolute fucking torture having a six-foot-four shadow with a rugged kind of beauty and a heart-stopping smile was pure torture. Hollywood had too much charm, too much magnetism. His presence was like a third person always in the room with us, laughing and smiling and teasing. They were bothalwaysthere, beside me everywhere I went.

When I woke up, I had a few minutes of peace and quiet, of solitude where his voice and his scent invaded my senses. When I went to class, he was right there beside me, asking questions in that deep whiskey-soaked whisper. When I worked out, he was there shirtless with muscles and tattoos on fully display, increasing my heart rate more than my cardio. We ate every meal together and spent every waking moment together, and then when night came and my head hit the pillow, he was there again.

Naked. Naughty. Orgasmic.

When I woke up each morning, sweaty and breathless, with an unquenchable thirst and damp between my thighs, the reality of my situation was taking its toll. It had only been three weeks, and my libido was out of control and I was aroused from the moment I woke up until, well I was still waiting for the arousal to pass.

It had to eventually. Right?

A knock sounded on my bedroom door and instantly my nipples hardened. “Yeah,” I said, my voice thick with lust and need. “Come in.” This time my voice was more forceful but when the door opened, a rush of excitement escaped on along breath.

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