The Bodyguard (Red's Tavern 7)

But I knew the moment Theo touched me again, I’d melt just as fast. And I would absolutely fucking love it.

As he pulled past the gates of his house and onto his long driveway, I couldn’t stop staring at his face. I had my hand on his thigh, gently squeezing. He pulled his lower lip into his mouth, chewing it a little the way he always did when he was overthinking something.

When he cut the engine to the car, though, his brow furrowed.

“Wait,” he said, looking out the window. “What is…”

He threw off his seatbelt and hopped out of the car, charging over to the big, glass front doors of the house.

I followed after him quickly, my hard-on finally dropping thanks to the confusion. “Theo?”

“Fuck,” he said from next to the front door. He turned back and walked toward me quickly. My eyes scanned the entryway.

“We didn’t leave that door open, did we?” I asked.

He shook his head, and immediately, I could see that same, familiar panic rising in his face.

The look I hated to see on his face.

The look he never, ever deserved to have.

“Shit,” I said under my breath. “Stay by me.”

I was on high alert now as I walked toward the front door. I saw what Theo had seen—one of the front doors was cracked open slightly. The handle looked like it had been tampered with. And inside, the alarm system was blinking, but completely silent.

“I know we armed the alarm system,” I said.

“We absolutely did,” he said, a tremor in his voice. “Because I triple checked it before we left. And we didn’t leave all of these lights on, either.”

“And the alarm system looks like it’s just blinking along,” I said. “Like nothing happened.”

“Wait,” Theo said, reaching down into the small marble planter that sat near the front doors. “What the fuck is this?”

His hands were trembling as he retrieved a little piece of paper, unfolding it to reveal a messy scrawled message.

I am still seeing you in my dreams, Mr. Theo Castille. I just need to talk to you. Don’t you see that? I don’t want to hurt you. Yet. But I need to talk to you. Not just watch your pretty little face in the movies. I just need you ALONE, Theo.

“Drop the note. Right where you found it,” I told him. “We’re not going inside. We’re getting in the car right now, driving far away from here, and calling the police.”

I watched as Theo tossed the note away. I could see his eyes were watery, now, but he wouldn’t let himself cry.

I knew he felt the same way as me, at this point. White-hot rage. Frustration, to the point it made him want to cry.

Theo didn’t put up any argument. He turned immediately and walked back to the car with me following close. My eyes scanned the property back and forth, even now. Even though I was almost 100% sure that whoever had broken in was probably long gone.

I had never wanted to fix something more in my entire life.

And there’d never been anything so impossible to fix.

14

Theo

By the time Roman and I arrived at the impromptu hotel room, I felt like a walking zombie.

The shaking had stopped, at least. As we’d driven far away, through all of Beverly Hills up into the mountain, my nerves had given way to a cold numbness.

Roman had taken care of everything, because he was basically a human superhero. After we had gotten a little bit of distance from the house, he’d called the police. Once they arrived, we had gone back to my property. They searched the premises, finding nobody in the home and no other evidence. It was a sight I’d seen multiple times, now. The police always tried to help me, but nothing ever came of it. The security camera footage showed a short man walking up to my front door, leaving the note, breaking in through the front door and somehow disarming the alarm system. He’d been wearing a black mask over his face, and as usual, no distinguishing characteristics could be seen.

When I looked at my phone, I saw that the notification from my new front door motion sensor was right there, in my log, showing me that there had been activity. But I’d been too fucking busy trying to suck up to Garett and seal a role in his film that I hadn’t even looked.

He had been inside my house. Rummaging around my kitchen. Smelling the fucking kitchen towels, for some reason. He’d taken a piss in my bathroom and then left, without even stealing anything, back through the front door.

I felt violated, even though I hadn’t even been there. And his note had been yet another creepy fucking reminder that no matter what, I wasn’t safe. Not fully. Not anywhere.

Roman had offered to drive one of my SUVs up to a hotel tucked away in Beverly Hills. I’d handed him my card and he’d made a reservation under his own name, so that it couldn’t be traced to me like it always was.