Brutal Bodyguards (Masked Men #11)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Maddie

The moment my father’s assistant texts me to come to his office at Harper Records, I know I’m in trouble.

Nothing good ever comes from a summons to the executive floor.

Especially when Kade is already sprawled out in one of Dad’s leather chairs like he owns the place, which technically he kind of does, or will someday.

“Maddie.” Dad stands from behind his massive desk. “Sit down.”

“I’d rather stand.” I cross my arms, already defensive. “What is this about?”

Kade gives me a look that tells me I won’t like it at all. “Just sit, Mads.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, rock star,” I hiss as I drop into the chair next to him. “If this is about the Instagram post from last night, that fan was totally cool with me uploading the photo. I asked first.”

“It’s not about Instagram,” Dad says, sitting back in his chair. “It’s about your security.”

Ice drops into my stomach. “No.”

“Maddie—”

“I said no,” I interrupt, standing again. “I have Ace and Vander. That’s more than enough.”

“The threats have escalated.” Dad’s voice leaves little room for argument. “Someone tried to access your building last week.”

“And Vander stopped them. That’s literally his job.”

Kade shifts forward. “Mads, come on. Just listen—”

“Oh, so you’re in on this too?” I scoff. “Of course you are. Let me guess, you all had a nice little meeting about poor Maddie and her scary stalker problems without actually including me?”

“We’re trying to protect you,” Kade tries to reason.

“I’m twenty-three years old. I don’t need another babysitter.”

“You need someone who specializes in digital security.” Dad pulls out a folder, because of course he has a file. “The latest threats have been coming through encrypted channels. Your current team is excellent at physical protection, but we need someone who can track them online.”

“So hire a hacker and put them in a basement somewhere. But I don’t need another person following me to Starbucks.”

“Actually,” a voice says from the doorway, “I’m more of a cybersecurity expert than a hacker. It’s a different skill set.”

I turn, ready to eviscerate whoever has walked into what is clearly a family argument, but my brain short-circuits.

Dimples. The man has dimples.

He is casually leaning against the doorframe like he has all the time in the world, wearing dark jeans and a button-down that is fitted enough to reveal the defined muscles underneath.

His brown hair is neatly cut, though slightly longer on top, and his warm brown eyes have the nerve to look amused.

He’s tall—not quite as big as Vander, but larger than most men—with a build that suggests he uses the gym daily.

His shoulders are broad, and his frame is solid and muscular without being bulky.

And when he smiles—which he is doing right now—those fucking dimples appear.

“Maddie, this is Rhodes Beckett,” Dad says, as if I care what the man’s name is. “He’ll be joining your security team.”

Oh, this won’t end well, I think as I stare at those dimples.

Sleeping with him will be the quickest way to get him fired.

The thought is so inappropriate I want to blame it on temporary insanity, but I’m not irrational, just desperate to have my old life back.

The one where no one knew Kade Harper was my brother.

“No,” I spit out. “Absolutely not.”

Rhodes pushes off the doorframe. “I know this is a lot to process.”

“Oh, you know, do you?” I step toward him. “You know what it’s like to have every aspect of your life controlled, all because some psycho decided you were your brother’s girlfriend? You know what it’s like to have your privacy invaded?”

The amusement fades from his eyes. “No. I don’t. But I know what it’s like to watch someone I care about go through it. And I’m good at preventing it from happening again.”

Damn it, though it was exactly the right thing to say, I stubbornly reply, “I don’t care how good you are. I’m not doing this.”

“It’s already done. Rhodes starts today,” my dad interjects. I know he won’t change his mind.

“Today? You couldn’t even give me a heads-up?”

Kade stands and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Mads, we just want you safe.”

I shrug him off. “This is all your fault.”

I grab my camera bag and rush through the door. Rhodes steps aside to let me pass, and I catch a whiff of his cologne—something clean and woodsy that I absolutely did not want to notice.

“That went well,” I hear him say jokingly as I storm off, so I throw him the finger over my shoulder without looking back.

His laughter follows behind me, but otherwise he keeps quiet until we hit the lobby. “So I guess you’re stuck with me today,” Rhodes says, coming to stand by my side, so close our arms touch.

“Did no one explain to you the concept of personal space?”

“Oh, they did. But my job kind of requires me to violate it.” He hits the elevator button before I can reach it. “For safety reasons.”

The elevator doors open, and I step inside, jabbing the button for the parking garage.

“You know,” I say, watching as the numbers descend, “you’re really annoying.”

“It’s one of my best qualities.” Those dimples grace me with another appearance. “I’m also told I make a mean cappuccino and I’m excellent at games night.”

“Fascinating. Are you any good at shutting up?”

“Terrible at it, actually.”

My lips twitch, but I catch myself before they curve into a full smile and pull them into a scowl instead. “Where’s your car?”

“Don’t have one here. I’m riding with you.”

“Of course you are.” The elevator opens into the garage, and I head for my Range Rover. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in trying to lose you?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Rhodes beats me to the driver’s side. “I’ll drive.”

“It’s my car.”

“And it’s my job to make sure no one’s tampered with it.” He holds out his hand for the keys. “Plus, you seem pretty pissed off. Angry driving isn’t safe.”

“I’m an excellent angry driver.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

He doesn’t lower his hand, so I eventually slap the keys into his palm. “You’re going to be insufferable, aren’t you?”

“Probably.” He unlocks the car and rounds the front to open the passenger door for me. “But I’ll try to make it entertaining.”

I climb in, and he closes the door. When he gets into the driver’s side, he adjusts the seat and mirrors to his larger frame, and I grind my teeth.

“So,” he says, starting the engine, “are you this nice to everyone?”

“You’re taking away my limited non-babysitting time and adding more surveillance. That makes you super special.”

“I’m not taking away anything,” he says as he pulls out of the garage smoothly. “Yes, I’m adding a digital layer to your existing security. But Ace and Vander are still very much part of the team.”

“Oh good, now I have three babysitters instead of two.”

“Bodyguards.”

“Semantics.”

He laughs, and it is an annoyingly pleasant sound. “You know, most people in your situation would be grateful for the protection.”

“Most people in my situation did not ask to be in this situation.” I stare out the window at the city traffic. “I just want to take photos and live my life. Instead, I’m famous for being related to someone famous, and all because some psycho outed me.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know that, but it’s my reality.” I turn to look at him. “Hiring you does not change that. It only adds another person who gets paid to watch me like I’m a child.”

Something shifts in his expression. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a child.”

I scoff. “You’ve known me for twenty minutes.”

“That’s long enough to know you’re smart, defensive as hell, and probably planning at least ten different ways to make my life difficult.”

“Only ten? Damn, my skills are getting weak.”

“See? We’re bonding already.” He smiles.

“Don’t mistake my hostility for bonding, dimples.”

“Dimples?” He glances at me, his eyebrow raised.

Shit, this guy is good. “Nothing. Watch the road. You don’t want to kill me on your first day.”

I can see his answering grin in my periphery.

By the time we pull up to my apartment building, I have run through five different ways to ditch him, but unfortunately none of them will work. Ace has probably already briefed him on all my usual escape tactics.

Rhodes parks and comes around to my door before I can open it myself.

“I can open my own door.”

“I know, but my mother raised me right.” He offers me his hand to help me out.

I ignore it and climb out on my own. I’m halfway to the entrance when I realize he is checking his phone, scanning the area, and watching the street all at once. For someone who jokes around, he is actively paying attention.

“You coming?” I call back.

“Right behind you.”

The elevator ride to my floor is silent, which is somehow worse than his constant talking. I can feel him taking note of everything—the security cameras, the key card access, the emergency exits. When we reach my door, I expect he’ll insist on going in first.

“Let me,” he says, moving in front of me.

“It’s my apartment. I think I can handle opening my own door.”

“Humor me.”

Rolling my eyes, I unlock it and step back with an exaggerated bow. “All yours, Sir Dimples.”

He slips inside, and I follow, dropping my camera bag on the entry table.

“Well?” a deep voice calls from my living room. “Did you scare off the newbie yet?”

Ace appears from around the corner, looking unfairly good in his black tactical gear.

His light-brown hair is neatly styled as always, in a way that emphasizes the sharp angles of his face.

Ace is lean, but undeniably strong, a build that comes from years of discipline.

His steel-gray eyes assess me with a familiar intensity, the kind that makes you feel it under your skin.

“Not yet,” Rhodes says with a stupid grin.

“Give her time,” Ace replies. “She’s creative.”

“I’m standing right here.”

Ace ignores me and focuses on Rhodes. “Any issues?”

“Just resistance to having a new security detail.”