Chapter Six
Zayne
"Maybe you can start tomorrow," Emma says for the fifth time since we left the office half an hour ago. It took some convincing a lot of convincing but she finally agreed to let me drive her home. I didn't really leave her much of a choice when I stole her car keys out of her purse and refused to give them back. As of now, I'm on duty. Guarding her body. Best assignment ever. "There's no reason to rush into this."
"There's every reason," I disagree. "You need a bodyguard."
If hell is real, I'm going there for lying to her. I've accepted this. But Gideon suggested I cut off her escape route and force her to deal with me. What better way than by appointing myself as her bodyguard? Actually, I didn't appoint me. That wasn't technically a lie.
Gideon hired me to protect her. She doesn't need to know that he used my money quite happily, I might add.
And she is in danger. She's in danger of breaking my fucking heart. She's in danger of running herself ragged. She's in danger of getting herself fucked through the mattress if she doesn't stop being so goddamn cute. But she didn't ask what kind of danger she was in, so I didn't technically lie about any of that either.
It's ice thin enough to count as frost. But desperate times call for desperate measures. She's been running for long enough. It's time for her to realize that whatever the fuck she's so afraid of isn't going to happen.
"You can start tomorrow."
I pull up alongside the curb outside her house and kill the engine. "Okay, so, we need to get a few things straight, lamb."
"Good idea," she says, her voice colored with relief. "We should probably come up with a reason why I need a bodyguard that doesn't involve me being in danger. I don't think either of them owns a gun, but I'm also not entirely convinced they don't know where to go buy one, either."
I lift a brow. That was not one of the things I meant we needed to get straight, but it's good to know her grandma and aunt are bad-asses who may or may not shoot me if I fuck this up.
"How old did you say they are?"
"Eighty." Her shoulders slump. "Um, I should warn you before you go in that they're both feral, and I have no control over anything that comes out of their mouths. Believe me, I've tried. But when you're that old, I guess you get to say whatever you want. At least, that's what Gran always tells me." She shrugs, looking slightly sick. "So I'm sorry in advance if they say anything inappropriate. And ignore any questions about your um " Her gaze drops to my lap, heat climbing into her cheeks. "Well, just ignore any questions, okay?"
Jesus Christ. The more she talks, the more I can't wait to meet these two.
"I'll take that under consideration," I say to ease her mind, though I have no intention of following through. I'll answer any questions they have. Unless she's serious about them asking about my dick. I'm not fucking whipping it out for two old ladies to inspect or some shit.
Fucking hell. Surely, she isn't suggesting that's a possibility right?
Either her life is far more interesting than mine, or she needs a whole helluva lot more help around here than I realized.
"My rules are simple, lamb," I murmur. "What I say goes. No trying to ditch me. No puttin' yourself in danger. We're doing things my way now."
"I already don't like your rules," she mumbles just loud enough for me to hear.
"Then you'll really hate the last one."
"There's more?" She sounds horrified, and I've never wanted to eat someone more.
"Mmhmm. You need to tell your grandma that we're dating. It'll make her hate me far less when I'm sleeping on your couch tonight." It'll also give me an excuse to touch Emma whenever the fuck I want. Dick move? Probably. Am I sorry? Absolutely not.
"S-sleeping on my couch?" Emma squeaks. "You didn't say anything about sleeping on my couch, Zayne! I didn't agree to this!"
"I can't guard your body from across town, little lamb." I cup her cheek, gently closing her mouth with my thumb. I'd much prefer to guard it while she's wrapped around me in her bed. But I have a feeling I may not survive the next five minutes if I suggest that, so I don't go there. Yet.
But is it really my fault if a motherfucker gets lost looking for the bathroom in the middle of the night? No, no, it's not.
"Come on. Let's go meet Gran and Bets." I slide out of the truck before she decides to call this whole thing off. I think she knows I'm full of shit. She's played along this far because her resolve is weakening, but if I push too far, I may just push her curvy ass right out of the door.
"Zayne!" she hisses at me.
I slam the door, pretending not to hear her.
"I'm going to murder you in your sleep!" she shouts, making me laugh as I circle the truck to help her out.
"Watch your step, baby girl," I murmur. "Matter of fact " I slide my hands around her waist, lifting her from the truck. She grabs onto my shoulders as if she thinks I'm going to drop her. But I've carried bloody, battered Marines out of the worst shitholes on this planet without faltering. There's not a chance in hell I'll drop the most important thing I've ever held in my arms.
"Put me down," she says breathlessly, her blue eyes locked on my face.
"Mm. Holding you is doing a number on my cock, but damn if I don't love every fuckin' second of it."
"You can't talk to me like that."
"Yeah? Says who?"
"Me."
"In that case " I nudge the truck door closed and press her up against it. "Maybe I forgot to mention that other rule."
"Another rule? What rule?"
"The one where I'll say whatever filthy thing I want to say when we're alone," I growl, running my lips down the side of her throat. "My mouth, my choice, baby girl. And I choose to use it to tell you how fucking crazy you make me."
"Zayne," she moans, pliant in my arms. "We're outside."
"Believe me, I'm aware." I nuzzle her neck, growling. "Fuck, you smell edible. Do you bathe in sugar?"
"What? No. Who does that?"
"You taste like it." I nip her throat with my teeth, trying not to dry hump the hell out of her in front of the entire neighborhood. And then I reluctantly pull back. "Let's get you inside before you make me do something you'll regret."
"I'm not responsible for your actions, Zayne Carmichael."
"You are when you're squirming on my cock like you can't wait to feel me inside you, lamb."
She groans loudly, burying her face in my throat as I carry her toward the house, but she doesn't demand I put her down again. I like this cuddly side of her. She's sweet as hell in my arms.
Right up until we reach the end of the sidewalk and she remembers where we are, anyway. As soon as she does, she manages to slip out of my arms, damn near landing on her ass before she catches herself.
"Crap. I should have thought that through better," she huffs, blowing a strand of hair out of her face to peer up at me. "Stop working your sexual voodoo on me. I need to focus."
"On what?"
She opens her mouth like she's going to respond and then snaps it closed with a shake of her head. "Never mind, I'll just show you." A second later, she scurries up the steps and then flings open the door. "Gran, Bets, are you decent?"
"We haven't been decent since the sixties, girl!" an old lady calls back.
Another one cackles.
"That's what I need to focus on," she mutters.
I fight a smile, following her into the house praying to God her grandmother and aunt are actually dressed, and I'm not about to see something I'll never recover from.
To my relief, they're fully clothed. Though, one of the old ladies is in a hot pink muumuu, and the other is wearing almost exactly what Richard Simmons wore in most of his videos. I'm not sure which twin is which, but they look identical to me. The house is interesting. I suppose that's a word for it. The furniture is an eclectic mix of antiques in all shapes and sizes. Bright paintings mix with more subdued pieces and family photos all over the walls. The only things that match are the colorful area rugs.
"Well, I'll be," the twin in the '80s workout gear breathes, her eyes wide as she looks me over. "You could be on one of those book covers, couldn't you?"
"Bets," Emma groans. "Please behave."
"I ain't said nothing he can't see with his own two eyes, girl," Bets says, waving Emma off. "I'm sure the man owns a mirror."
Emma groans, looking at me with big eyes. "Zayne, this is my Aunt Betty Cooper, Bets for short."
"It's nice to meet you, ma'am. I've heard a lot about you."
"Don't believe a word of it either," Bets says. "And don't start with that ma'am shit. You call me Bets or Aunt Bets. I'm too old to be reminded how old I am."
"Yes, ma I mean Bets," I say, grinning. She's feisty. I'm guessing that's exactly where Emma gets it from. My girl has fire in her soul and the devil in her eyes. I glance from Bets to Emma's grandmother. "You must be Ms. Cooper."
"Ms. Cooper, is it? Ain't had anyone call me that in sixty years."
"Sixty years, huh? Then my eyes must be deceivin' me because you can't possibly be a day older than that."
Her blue eyes light up as she cackles like I just made her day. "Oh, I like him," she says to Emma. "You should definitely keep doing what you were doing outside if it means he keeps saying such nice things to two old ladies, dear."
"What we were doing ?" Emma claps her hands on her red cheeks. "Were you spying on us through the window, Gran?"
"Of course we were, dear."
I scratch my face to hide a smile. I like these two already. They're hell on wheels and clearly not sorry about it.
"Gran! You can't just spy on me. It's rude."
"Pah." The old lady waves her hand in the air like she's swatting at a bug. "Don't start that baloney with me, Emmaline. If you didn't want us watching, you shouldn't have been doing it on the street."
Emma shoots a death glare in my direction, telling me without words that this is all my fault. I'm willing to take the blame. Her grandma doesn't sound upset about the fact that I was all over her granddaughter. In fact, she sounds amused.
"So, you're the one she's been so worked up over, huh?" Gran says to me.
"I have not been worked up over him!" Emma objects.
I grin from ear to ear as her face burns bright red. Seems my little lamb has been telling tales about me to her grandma and aunt. Fuck. Why does that make me feel like a goddamn king?
"Whatever you say, dear." Gran pats her on the arm before turning back to me. "Are you staying for dinner? Or did she recruit you to babysit us like she did the neighbor? We might be convinced to behave for you, but it's not likely."
"I imagine the two of you behave just fine without a babysitter."
Emma snorts, letting me know that's absolutely not the case. Unless I miss my guess, they probably run circles around her. It's obvious that she adores them. It's equally as obvious that old age hasn't slowed them down any at all. She's got her hands full between the two of them and her job.
Shit. No wonder she's busy all the time. Poor lamb is probably exhausted.
"He's going to be here for a while, Gran," Emma says.
"Is he? Why?"
Emma looks at me, clearly at a loss how to explain my presence. I consider forcing the dating story, but decide to cut Emma a little slack. At least for the moment.
"I'm Emma's bodyguard."
"Her bodyguard?" Gran's brows climb toward her hairline. "Is that what you kids are calling it nowadays?"
"Gran!"
"Well, I'm just asking."
I fight a smile.
"I told you that he owns a private security firm with his brothers."
"Brothers? Do they look like him?"
"No. My brothers are hideous trolls," I lie without shame. Just in case they decide they don't like me and want to get one of them over here instead. "Mean, too."
Bets grins like she knows exactly what I'm doing, but she doesn't call me on my bullshit. She's an old lady after my heart.
"So you need a bodyguard now? I swear, you kids start hanging around someone famous, and suddenly, the whole world knows who you are. Doesn't anyone have any privacy anymore?" Gran complains. "Bets, remember that summer you spent on Teddy Wilkins's tour bus? No one bothered you."
"I'm not hanging around the Predators, Gran. Gray is our newest client." She turns wide eyes on Bets. "And why didn't I know you spent a summer touring with Teddy Wilkins?"
I don't know much about music, but everyone in Nashville knows Teddy Wilkins. The man was a legend and more rock n' roll than anyone in country music during his heyday. If Bets was on tour with the man, I'm guessing she's seen some things.
"You aren't old enough to hear that particular story, dear." Bets pats her hair, refusing to meet her niece's gaze.
"I'm twenty-three!"
"Yes, that's not nearly old enough," Gran says. "Ask her again in ten years."
Jesus. Emma wasn't kidding when she said they're feral. Watching them is like watching a ping pong match, only no one knows the rules, the score, or where the damn ball went.
"So what does being her bodyguard entail, sweet boy?" Gran asks me, changing the subject before Emma can object to being classified as too young to hear her aunt's exploits. Though, frankly, I think I may be too young to hear them.
"Routine shi stuff," I amend quickly, trying to mind my manners. Ma would kick my ass for cursing in front of these two. "I'll be moving in while I update security around here and keep an eye on things."
"Moving in?" Emma wheels around to face me, her eyes wide. "You are not moving in."
"Yeah, I am, baby girl."
"I did not agree to this."
"My rules, my way, remember?" I run my thumb down the side of her cheek. "You agreed when you agreed to that."
"I didn't agree to that! You distracted me until I forgot to argue."
"Oh, I like him," Bets whispers to Gran, linking her arm through her sister's. "He's a smart one."
"Stop siding with the enemy, Bets. You're supposed to be on my team."
"Emmaline, dear girl, if being on your team means this gorgeous man isn't moving in, no one wants to be on your team," Bets says frankly, patting her niece on the head. "But you two keep arguing about it. Lou and I will get dinner started."