The Bodyguard (Red's Tavern 7)

No matter where I went, I couldn’t fucking feel safe. I’d thought of Amberfield as the idyllic tiny town that it had been when Grandpa grew up here, with amber waves of grain and nothing but cows and big, blue skies.

But I couldn’t hide.

Tears bit at the corners of my eyes as I went back inside, slamming the big, heavy double doors behind me. I set the alarm, finally, my fingers still shaking a little as I tapped on the pad. I set all of my automatic blinds to roll down and cover all the windows.

And then I took a deep breath in and used my voice command system to dial Madeline.

“Hey, bud,” she answered, cheerful as ever. “How about that Sanford script, huh? Incredible, right?”

“Madeline,” I said, my chest still feeling icy.

“Are you okay?” she asked immediately, clearly hearing the fear in my voice.

“I’m fine. For now, at least.” I heaved out a heavy sigh, scrubbing one palm over my face as I sank back down onto my couch. “But you were right. I need a fucking bodyguard.”

5

Roman

My mind ran through interview questions like a drill as I pulled up outside the Golden Goose Inn.

There was no chance in hell I was going to actually get the job. When my eyes had scanned over the list of open security jobs in Kansas for the billionth time a couple of nights ago, I just about choked on my coffee when I’d seen a listing for personal detail as a bodyguard.

A bodyguard position.

Personal detail. Right here in Amberfield, Kansas.

It was like finding a needle in a haystack. Hell, it was like finding a diamond in a mound of cow shit.

Until I’d seen the job posting, my head had been in the clouds for a couple of days, fantasizing endlessly about the gorgeous guy I’d met at Red’s Tavern, jerking off about three times more than normal, and being too scared to go back to the bar and see if he’d return.

I was glad to have something else to think about. The potential of a new job was incredibly exciting.

It was hard enough to find open freelance positions in the first place. But in Kansas, it was incredibly rare. And in Amberfield, it may as well have been nonexistent. But there it was, listed right among the same old boring security guard positions in nearby factories.

I’d always dreamed of having a career in personal security detail, but I’d always thought I’d have to leave behind my home for a big city to do so. I had put it off for years, knowing that eventually, I’d either have to move to Los Angeles or New York, or give up my dream.

I didn’t know much about the position yet, other than that it was protecting someone important who was going to be in Amberfield. I had only spoken to the client’s assistant, Madeline, who was in town staying here at the Golden Goose Inn, in charge of interviewing for the bodyguard position.

I’d gone out and bought a fresh business suit. I’d Googled so many job interview questions over the past two days that my head hurt. But even though my only experience was being a college campus security guard, I was at least going to try.

Because even though it was a long shot, being a bodyguard was my dream.

Ten minutes early, I headed into the lobby of the Golden Goose.

“Here to meet Madeline Tanaka,” I said, standing up straight.

“Of course! She’s been interviewing people all day,” the receptionist said. “One guy apparently even flew in from Chicago to interview. Big, beefy guys like you, all of them.”

I smiled politely as I saw a guy walk out from a hallway, big and beefy just like she had said. I knew I was looking at my competition.

“Interviewing for a bodyguard position,” I told the receptionist. “Makes sense.”

“Ms. Tanaka is right down here in our meeting room,” she said, guiding me down the hall. “Good luck,” she whispered before heading back to the reception desk.

The Golden Goose Inn was quaint, but it was definitely the nicest hotel in the area. The meeting room was long and probably used to be a dining room before it was converted to its current state. A narrow table went down the center, surrounded by office chairs. At the end of the table, a woman with a long, slicked-back black ponytail stood, smiling at me.

“Roman Bryant, right?” she asked.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said, giving her a firm handshake.

For the next forty-five minutes, I had the most rigorous interview I’d ever experienced in my life. Madeline was friendly, but she was sharp as a tack, asking me a host of questions that definitely hadn’t been on any of the lists I’d feverishly Googled. She told me that she was working with a third-party security firm who would also be interviewing me if I made it past the first round.