Tough Luck (A-List Security 1)

“Story of my life,” I muttered.

I prepared for Cash to give me the exact same look most people did. Not quite an eye-roll, but wide eyes plus a subtle head shake. Usually followed by a reminder of how lucky my life was. After all, I’d been born into Hollywood royalty. Who cared if the people in my life tended to have priorities other than me?

But Cash didn’t do that. Instead, he did one worse—sympathy. His chiseled features softened, and he nodded. “Sucks. I get it. But he’s trying to start this company. If he’d had more time, he probably would have tried to get me to take Toronto so he could deal with you,”

“I don’t need dealing with.” I stared Cash down. God, I was sick of being handled.

“Sorry. Bad choice of words.” Cash quirked his lips. He didn’t seem like the type who apologized often. “I meant more that no one wants me working some fancy film festival. Duncan’s the tuxedo guy, not me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” From where I stood, Cash would look fucking amazing in a tux, all bulky muscle and thick ass. And there I went again, thinking thoughts I shouldn’t while wearing a thin robe.

“Trust me, I’m far better suited to check your perimeter and gather facts.”

He could check my perimeter any damn day, but I was still smarting over the assumption that I was some unfortunate problem for Duncan to deal with. However, before I could think of an appropriate retort, my doorbell buzzer sounded from my phone, which was still on the grass near my yoga mat.

“Produce,” the intercom crackled from my phone, but the announcement was quickly followed by a high-pitched shriek and cursing. “Ew. Ew. What the—”

I didn’t catch the last part because Cash had broken into a dead run toward the front gate, leaving me to follow, robe flapping around my legs and heart pounding.

“Stop right there,” Cash called to my produce person, who was backing away from the front gate with a horrified expression on her face.

“I’m gonna puke,” she warned. The sweet-faced teen was different from the usual delivery person, and her pallor was as green as her uniform polo. Her voice cracked alarmingly. “What the heck is that?”

She pointed down, not at my fruit box but rather at something also near the gate. I peered around Cash to get a better look, only to wish I hadn’t. There was a very dead rat still in a trap with a printed note in a giant font: Miss me?

Oh hell. Now I was going to be the one hurling. A dry heave escaped my chest, an awful retching sound that made Cash whirl toward me.

“You. Stay behind me. Now.”

“But—” I wasn’t even sure what I was protesting, only that moving seemed impossible.

“It’s a fake rat.” Cash pitched his voice soothingly, but I wasn’t sure I believed him. “The danger’s real though. I need you alert, Daniel. Don’t freak out on me yet.”

That he remembered my name preference under the circumstances made my chest warm, some of the terrible tightness easing.

“I’m definitely freaked,” the teen delivery person announced. “And I’m outta here.”

“No, you’re not.” Cash gave her a stern look that had me shivering in sympathy. “I’m calling the cops, and you’re staying put until they can get a statement.”

“I have other deliveries.” Face crumbling, she balled up her hands as if fighting hard to not cry.

“Call your boss.” Cash’s tone was commanding but not unsympathetic. He glanced back at me over his shoulder. “We have a situation here. The apples can wait.”

A situation. Oh God. We did. And now I really was going to be sick.

Chapter Three

Cash

Danny made a pained noise, and I had a hand out to steady him before he started to wobble.

“Easy.” I led him to a little bench near the gate, one of my eyes still on the produce delivery woman, who was all of eighteen or nineteen and as rattled as Danny. But he was my primary concern right then. “Stay with me. I know this is hard, but you need to focus on staying safe.”

I’d talked fellow SEALs out of far more disturbing scenes, but Danny—Daniel—wasn’t used to anything gory. That much was clear.

“Okay,” he said meekly. Good. He could follow orders. That was a start.

I stayed close behind Daniel in case he actually did faint, but time was also ticking away, so I turned toward the produce woman. “Now. That rat was definitely not there when I arrived. What did you see?”

“Nothing, I swear.” She held up her hands. The nametag on her polo said her name was Autumn, and she seemed one stiff breeze away from tumbling over herself. “Only that car in the driveway.” She pointed at my older SUV. “I heard voices outside, but it was yours and his. I think. Everything was fine until I saw that thing.”