Page 5 of Bad For A Weekend

That’s our thing. We agreed long ago that if one of us needs something the other doesn’t want to give, we have to at least try. That’s how he got me to come home for family dinner every Monday and how I got him to let me start wearing makeup at thirteen.

I sigh. “Fine. I’ll try.”

Dad beams.

“Don’t gloat. It’s not a good look.”

He wipes the grin from his face. “Is this a bad time to tell you I sold your car and bought a bullet-proof SUV for Owen to drive?”

I huff and motion for Ziggy to come to the couch. Like a true best friend, he scoops me up and takes me back upstairs to my room.

Owen

“Is it awful?” my brother, Hudson, asks.

I glance around the living room, seeing expensive furnishings and high-tech electronics.

Nope. Not awful.

The oversized leather armchair I’m sitting on looks beat to hell but in a way that tells me it’s not from wear and was designed this way. It sits next to a dark gray sofa with a chaise on one end and across from the largest TV I’ve ever seen mounted on the wall.

The kitchen is compact since it’s probably only used to store snacks while people swim, but it’s open to the living room, so it doesn’t feel small. There’s a bedroom down the hall furnished with the most comfortable bed I’ve ever laid on, and the bathroom has a shower with three shower heads. No idea what a person does with three shower heads, but I’ll find out come morning.

“It’s fine,” I reply. “A step up from my childhood bedroom at Mom and Dad’s house.”

“What about the girl? Is she a brat?”

“I don’t know yet.” I relax into the chair and kick my feet up on the ottoman, thinking back to my initial meeting with Baylor. I got heated seeing her body covered in bruises and her ankle wrapped up in an ACE bandage. From everything her dad told me, she was treated pretty roughly when she was taken. No idea how a man could hurt an innocent girl that way. “She seems fine.”

What I don’t tell him is that, with bright fuchsia hair at her roots that fades to a pastel pink at the ends, she’s strikingly pretty. She’s pale but has freckles and dark brows and lashes. She reminds me of an edgy Snow White. Girly but with a touch of emo. It’s an interesting combination.

“Anything about your career change not ‘fine’?”

“What do you want me to say? It’s good. Great, even.” I blow out a breath. “I’m glad for the change of scenery. It’ll be good for me.”

I don’t know if any of those words are true yet, but I can’t tell him that. My brother took a risk hiring me after things went to shit, and I’m grateful for it.

Hudson’s security firm has two sectors. One department sells and installs high-tech security systems in mansions all over L.A., which is what I thought I’d be doing when he offered me a job. Instead, he brought me into the personal security side of his business when a job for the famous actor’s kid popped up.

I get why he thought it would be a good fit. I have a lot of experience working with kids, especially teenagers, and being a former cop, I’m trained in protection. It makes sense on paper. But I can’t help but wonder if it’s too close to what I was trying to escape.

“What about the nightmares?” he asks.

I clear the lump in my throat that his question causes. “Haven’t had one in forever.”

It’s another lie, but if I tell him I wake up drenched in sweat with my heart racing once a week, he might pull me from this gig. And Ineedthis job right now.

Four years ago, I was forced to resign from my position as a school resource officer. After theincident, there were surgeries and so much therapy that I had little time for anything else. With no income, I moved in with my parents and lived off what little savings I had that’s now completely depleted. Even if I don’t feel ready, it’s time to get back to life.

I nearly blacked out when I saw my new position pays five times what I was making as a resource officer. All I need to do is keep the kid alive for six months, and I’ll have plenty of cash to float me to my next opportunity. Especially since most of my bills are included in my benefits. I have no rent, no food cost, paid insurance, my car and cell phone are provided, a clothing allowance since rich people only like to see designer, and no gym membership since I’m allowed access to the in-home gym and pool.

No one in their right mind could say no to this job.

But I’m not in my right mind, so after he explained I wouldn’t be installing security systems, it took him, our parents, and my therapist a lot of convincing to get me to accept.

“Did you find a new therapist?”

“Fuck, man. When did you turn into our mother?” I bite out, kicking the ottoman and sending it sliding across the tiled floor.

---