Chapter 2
Ember stared at the stranger’s back as he left the cafeteria as abruptly as he’d deposited her at his table.
She wasn’t an idiot, she knew looks weren’t everything…
but it had been a very long time since she’d been dismissed so completely out of hand.
She couldn’t help but feel a little offended. And confused.
One of the men at the table cleared his throat. Ember turned her attention from the gruff man who’d just left and glanced at the guy next to her.
“I’m Trigger,” he said, holding out his hand.
Ember shook it. “Ember.”
“I know,” he said with a small smile. It wasn’t condescending or leering. It was…gentle. If a smile could be gentle.
“And I’m Brain,” the man on her other side said. “That’s Lefty, Lucky, and Grover,” he went on, indicating the others at the table.
“And the grumpy asshole who just left was Doc,” Trigger said.
“Wow, I thought my name was unusual,” Ember murmured.
Everyone chuckled.
“They’re nicknames,” Lucky said. “We’re part of the security force hired to keep everyone safe.”
Ember nodded. That made sense. “I’m guessing you’re in the military,” she said.
“Why do you say that?” Grover asked.
He was a large man. Both tall and muscular. Ember might’ve been intimidated, but her parents had hired many bodyguards for her over the years, so she’d gotten used to muscular men. “Your nicknames. The way you all carry yourselves. It’s just kind of…everything.”
Everyone laughed again.
“So much for flying under the radar,” Lefty said. “We could be wrestlers,” he said with a lift of an eyebrow.
Ember wasn’t sure why these guys didn’t make her feel uncomfortable, like just about everyone else…
but they didn’t. Maybe it was the rings most wore on their left hands, indicating they were married.
Maybe it was because they didn’t look starstruck.
Maybe it was the way they looked her in the eye when they spoke to her.
Whatever it was, she felt her muscles relaxing.
She’d put her foot down with her parents and insisted on staying in the athlete village instead of the suite they’d rented in a nearby hotel.
She needed some space from them. Her parents meant well, but over the years, they’d completely taken over her life.
Taken away any decisions she might’ve made on her own.
Never asking her what she wanted to do, always assuming they knew best.
They were smart, had built her online persona from nothing, hired the best coaches to help her become an Olympian, and made so much money with her name, it was almost obscene. But none of it had been her choice. She’d just gone along with their decisions.
Until now.
They’d ranted and raved, but nothing had changed her mind. She’d wanted to feel normal for once. Wanted to be just another athlete.
She should’ve known that wasn’t actually going to happen.
She’d felt good as she’d checked into the dorm.
She’d gone to her room and put away some of her things before taking a break to get something to eat.
The second she walked into the cafeteria, she remembered who she was.
She wasn’t Ember Maxwell the Pentathlete.
She was Ember Maxwell, social media star.
Someone to be gawked at. To be scrutinized.
She lived in a fishbowl, and she’d forgotten for a split second.
When the man had approached her while she’d been trying to figure out where to sit to eat her lunch, she’d been taken aback.
Had been ready to fend him off. But he hadn’t looked as if he was infatuated with her.
Hadn’t been excited to meet the Ember Maxwell.
He’d seemed almost…irritated. Not with her, but just in general.
She hadn’t missed his threat to the men sitting at the table next to theirs.
She would have told Doc that she didn’t even notice when people filmed her anymore.
That it was simply a part of her life. She didn’t like it, but she’d learned to live with it when she went out in public.
But she didn’t even get a chance to thank him.
As soon as the men at the other table had left, he had too.
“Ember?” Lucky asked. “Are you all right?”
She mentally took a breath. She’d spaced out, gone into her head, which she knew she did all too often. Rather surprisingly, since she was constantly surrounded by people. But none of them really cared to get to know her. “I’m good. Thanks.”
They all nodded, then began to talk amongst themselves as if she wasn’t there.
No, that wasn’t fair. They included her in their casual conversation. She just wasn’t the center of their attention. It was…
Awesome.
“How’s Chance?” Lucky asked Brain.
The man sat up in his chair. “He’s great. I talked to Aspen last night. He slept a whole five hours straight and she was so happy. Apparently that’s not normal for a newborn, but we’ll take it.”
“That’s awesome. Anyone hear from Oz?” Lefty asked.
“He texted me last night,” Grover replied. “Said Riley’s doing great. He thinks she’s gonna have their kid before we get back, so it’s a good thing he didn’t come with us.”
The conversation continued, and Ember listened as she ate, enjoying how they spoke openly about their significant others.
She’d tried to get to know a few of the men who’d been assigned to guard her when she left the house, but none seemed all that interested in chatting.
The dichotomy between these men—who sounded completely devoted to their women, but looked as if they could crush someone with one blow—was intriguing.
She wasn’t intimidated by them. On the contrary, Ember had always been attracted to rough-looking men.
Maybe it was because the guys she’d grown up with in Beverly Hills were more concerned about looking pretty than getting their hands dirty.
“So what’s your story?” Lucky asked.
Ember swallowed the food she’d just taken a bite of and wiped her lips with a napkin before asking, “What do you mean?”
“Where are you from, how’d you get into competing in modern pentathlon, how old are you, what’s your favorite thing to do on your time off, how in the world do you deal with every single person in the world knowing who you are…you know, that sort of thing,” he clarified with a large, open smile.
Ember knew she should put up the shield she usually employed when people asked questions that her parents deemed too personal.
She should giggle and deflect…but she felt comfortable around these guys.
And her parents weren’t here, watching her every move.
“Beverly Hills. I was a decent swimmer and runner but would never be gold-medal material, so my parents decided the pentathlon was perfect, since I could be average in an individual sport, but still come out on top. I’m twenty-five.
I have no time off, and I honestly try not to think about everyone knowing everything about me. ”
“I’m not sure there’s anything average about you,” Grover countered.
Ember turned to look at him. He wasn’t leering or smirking. It seemed as if he was just making a general observation.
“Thanks, but trust me, I’m honestly pretty boring. Social media can make anyone look like the most fascinating person alive.”
Grover didn’t laugh. Neither did anyone else.
Instead, his gaze bored into hers. Finally, he said, “You’ve got a pretty thick shield around you, keeping everyone out.
It’s not surprising, with twenty-five million followers on Instagram and your life in pictures, plastered out there for everyone to see. You remind me of Doc.”
Ember was surprised at his insight. But she was more curious about their friend. “What’s his deal? Does he not like Black people or what?”
Silence met her question—and Ember felt uncomfortable for the first time.
She knew many people in the world were still racist. Still judged people by the color of their skin.
She might’ve grown up in Beverly Hills, with wealthy parents who could provide her with everything her heart desired, but that didn’t erase the hate and disgust in some people’s eyes and hearts when they looked at her.
They didn’t care if she was a good person.
An accomplished athlete. An Olympian. They would still cross the street so they didn’t have to be near her, as if they were afraid she was going to rob them if they got too close.
Then there were those who thought she was either too white to belong to the Black community, or too Black to belong to the white community.
Trigger pushed his tray aside and leaned his elbows on the table in front of him. He studied Ember with a look she couldn’t decipher. Then he said, “Doc’s the absolute last person who would judge you for the color of your skin. You two have more in common than you’d think.”
Ember snorted. “Right. He’s what, a decade older than me? And white. And in the military. What could we possibly have in common?”
When no one answered right away, Ember had a feeling she should’ve kept her mouth shut.
She’d gotten complacent. Had felt comfortable with these men. She’d forgotten that everyone wanted something from her. An autograph. A mention on social media. A picture. A blow job. It was always something.
Now she wondered what these men wanted. Doc had been the one to lead her to the table, but maybe that was part of a practiced shtick. Maybe they’d been lying about their wives and children.
As if they all realized at once how unnerved she was getting, the five men casually leaned back in their chairs, as though attempting to give her space.
“Do not be afraid of us,” Grover said in a quiet tone.
“Out of everyone in this damn place, you’re safest with us.
Physically, and with the real you. To answer your question, Doc is thirty-four.
He’s the oldest on our team. He’s had a hard life.
Yeah, he’s white and you’re Black, but that literally means nothing to him. ”