Page 4 of Crossing the Line
Sylvia’s expression seamlessly transformed from welcoming to distressed, her baby doll blue eyes filled with unshed tears. “I’m afraid my daughter is in danger,” she said, wringing her hands together, careful to avoid smudging her fresh paint.
Xavier had done his due diligence in the car on the way over. Waverly Sinner was a twenty-year-old all-American beauty with a list of movie credits that any actress twice her age would envy. He’d actually taken his younger sisters to see one of her movies years ago after losing a bet with them. She’d been a pretty, long-legged teen then and had since grown into a genetic lottery winner.
She was also paparazzi bait, if the accident last week was any indication.
“I’m sure you’ve seen the news,” Sylvia continued.
They both had. The three-vehicle accident in the hills had gotten its fair share of screen time. First with the media outlets’ speculation that Sinner was at fault and then again when police released the 911 call and dash cam footage from her Mercedes. This time around, she was labeled a hero.
“The photographer involved in that accident was extremely aggressive,” Micah stated. “Is that common?”
“It’s not an everyday occurrence,” Sylvia said, pulling her feet up under her. “But it’s something we’ve all had to get used to. It goes with the territory.” She sipped delicately from her glass.
“What’s your main concern about your daughter’s safety?” Xavier asked, his curiosity piqued.
Sylvia shifted again, this time from concerned mother to beleaguered parent, her lovely features rearranging themselves effortlessly.
“Honestly, she’s going through some sort of willful phase. She’s turning down movies, refusing interviews—”
“Mrs.— Sylvia,” Micah interrupted. “That isn’t the kind of situation that we generally work with.”
It was, of course, a service they did reluctantly provide. For a fee.
She waved a slim hand that looked too fragile to hold the cluster of diamond rings she wore. “Of course not. It’s just that this little rebellion of Waverly’s is putting her in danger. That accident occurred shortly after she and her father had some sort of argument over who knows what? Neither of them tell me anything,” she said with a charming eye roll. She took another sip from her glass. “I need someone who can protect Waverly from herself.”
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“Thoughts?” Micah asked as Xavier drove the company Tahoe down the drive.
Xavier waited until they were through the security gate before answering. “She wants a glorified babysitter.”
“And?”
“And yet she seems to be painfully unaware that her daughter actually finds herself in dangerous situations. That guy on the bike could have killed her, but she’s more concerned that her daughter get used to it and start picking up parts again.”
“And?” Micah probed again.
“And that wasn’t water in her glass,” Xavier concluded.
“Same page. So are you up for a security detail with some babysitting thrown in to appease a very insistent client?” Micah asked, breaking the rules of an operative and rolling down his window to let the early summer air into the car.
“I have no interest in making this my specialty,” Xavier warned his friend.
“But you do it so well,” Micah said with a grin.
He was referring to Xavier’s last princess-sitting job. The daughter of a British business magnate with a trust fund in the eight figures. She’d pranced around in lingerie and sunbathed topless by the pool for two weeks before realizing he wasn’t going to bite. Once that realization had set in, she’d thrown a hissy fit and tried to go on a cocaine binge in the bathroom of a club. He’d gotten her out of the club, cleaned up, and dumped in a swanky rehab facility without anyone snapping any embarrassing pictures.
The bonus the grateful father gave them was enough to send an entire kindergarten class to a four-year college.
If Waverly Sinner thought she could get around him, she was going to learn very quickly that no one swayed Xavier Saint from his purpose.
CHAPTER TWO
Xavier had done a high-level run on the Sinners before his meeting with Sylvia, but now that Invictus had a contract, he would perform a more in-depth scan. Intel helped him anticipate potential threats and problems well before any materialized. He could usually build a fairly accurate snapshot of a client, which gave him a leg up.
Xavier’s guard duty started tomorrow, and he needed that leg up immediately.
When Sylvia was walking them to the door, her husband had come home. At fifty, he still pulled down leading roles effortlessly. His hair was streaked with gray, and the lines around his eyes crinkled when he flashed his movie star grin. He was distinguished, polished, and completely checked out.
