Hillbilly Rockstar (Blacktop Cowboys 6)

Joe grinned. “I almost wish I was going along to see you bust this guy’s balls on a daily basis.” He leaned forward and pleaded with Garrett. “Please let me be the one to tell our client that Liberty is his new bodyguard.”

“Fine, but you’d also better warn him that Liberty is . . .” Garrett laughed. “Never mind. He can figure it out for himself.”

On the way out, Garrett stopped her. “The head of the promotion company was very clear in this offer. McClain isn’t to know anything about the performance bonus. If you tell him about it, it voids that part of the contract.”

“My lips are sealed. I promise.”

“I know I can trust you.”

“But I don’t know if I can trust them.”

Garrett waited for her explanation.

“We both know they’ll pay you at regular intervals while I’m on assignment. So I want their guarantee that I’ll have that bonus no later than three days after the end of the tour. I don’t want to wait ninety days while they dick around about payment.”

He smiled. “Excellent point. Are you sure I can’t talk you into takin’ an admin position when your probationary period is up?”

“Do I still get to Taser people from behind a desk?”

“No.”

“Then no way.”

Chapter Three

What the hell was taking them so long?

Devin fought the urge to get up and pace; instead he focused his frustration on his agent. “All of JT’s expenses are bein’ taken care of, right? Including transportation back home so he can recuperate?”

“The legal team wants to run it past accounting—”

“I didn’t ask about the legal team. They weren’t in that hospital room. They didn’t see the damn bloodstains on my bed. The man took hits that were meant for me—”

“Don’t say that,” his agent warned. “Neither you nor the tour promotion company is claiming any culpability for the attack. I know you’re upset, but this situation is a lawsuit waiting to happen. We don’t need any more ammo fired at us.”

Carl Carlson, the head honcho from Big Sky Promotions, nodded. “You just go right on telling folks that the beefed-up security is a requirement of headlining as one of the hottest solo tickets in country music. Remember, we’re allowing this meeting at your request. Be warned, son. I will overrule you if they don’t propose a security plan that I approve of one hundred percent.”

“That woman already gave us all the answers to our questions about security problems.”

“No. She gave us the tape to fix the leaks, but we still need someone keeping watch so no more unexpected leaks show up. Console yourself with the fact we’re not demanding two bodyguards.”

“Fine. But I’d better have a different goddamn tour bus in four days, when we leave for Salt Lake City.” It’d been humiliating enough having his name and his face plastered on his bus—he’d always hated that—but it really chapped his ass that anyone would believe he actually wanted that blatant promotion.

The door opened and the GSC trio walked in.

Devin tried to keep his focus on Tanna’s brother, but his gaze kept landing on Liberty, the ballbuster, which annoyed him; the chick was nothing special to look at. She wore shapeless monochrome clothing, her angular face was free of makeup and her eyes were a nearly colorless gray. He wasn’t even certain of her hair color since she’d plastered it to her head and secured it in a bun.

Garrett’s associate Joe, a bruiser the size of a small truck, took the reins. “As you’re aware, we don’t normally contract for such an extended amount of time, but we’ve figured out a way to make it work.”

Devin knew the only reason GSC had taken this appointment was because of his friendship with Tanna. “And I appreciate that.”

“Luckily for you, our security specialist has agreed to take the job.”

“Who?”

“Me.”

Oh no. Oh, f**k no. Devin looked at the woman and found her staring back at him . . . with zero emotion. His mouth opened before his brain engaged. “You seriously think I’ll let a woman protect me? That goes against the way I was raised and everything I believe in. Men protect women, not the other way around.”

“You wanted discreet security,” Garrett pointed out. “And Liberty is the best possible solution.”

“You do have a lot of women hanging around, Dev. No one would think twice about her bein’ there,” Crash added.

“Does she look like the women who hang around my shows?” Devin snapped. “No one in their right mind would ever believe I’d be with a woman like her.”

That brought a flush to Liberty’s cheeks, and Devin felt like a dick for saying it—even when it was true.

“Devin, can you not jump to conclusions?” his agent asked. “This sounds to me like the ideal solution.”

“Tryin’ to pass her off as my girlfriend?”

“We were thinking more along the lines of a personal assistant,” Garrett said.

“That theory will be blown when she’s conferring with the event security, wearing an earpiece and holstering a firearm under her business suit. Or if she perceives a threat and pulls a gun, because she—and no offense, sweetheart—looks awful trigger-happy.”

She set her forearms on the table. “You have no idea how true that statement is. But right now the person I’d be gunning for most is you, sweetheart.” Then she smiled.