CHAPTER THREE
JOSH
––––––––
I drive my brand new charcoal Maserati SUV through the gates to Blake Cartwright’s mansion in Hollywood Hills and circle around the drive.
After parking outside the front door, I climb out and glance around, checking out the security view and the overall impressive property.
I expected it, of course—he’s Blaze Cartwright.
The place is a little dated, but some of the mansions here are. Still, the property has a solid fence line, and I can see cameras scattered around. It probably needs updating.
I’m going to recommend that we do. After all, I’m in the security business and I’m keen to get more than just this one gig protecting his daughter. Who I’m looking forward to meeting in the flesh.
Often these celebrity girls are way less impressive off camera and without all the makeup. I prefer my women more natural...and naked.
Turning as Blaze steps through the front door, I watch as the world famous rock star slides his hands into the pockets of his black silk pants. His top is the same material but a colorful abstract pattern.
It hurts my brain.
A few thick chains hang from his neck, and I have no doubt they’re real and cost more than a month’s rent for most people.
“Thanks for coming, man.” Blaze says as I walk over and shake his hand.
I take in the Prada embossed black slippers on his feet and promise myself I’ll never wear slippers. Not even when I’m eighty.
Blaze isn’t eighty, though. I put him somewhere between sixty-five and seventy, which means he had Cassy later in life. No surprise given his career.
“No problem,” I say, sliding my sunglasses on top of my head.
“Let’s go inside and chat before my daughter arrives,” Blaze says, grimacing. “She doesn’t know you’re coming.”
I lift my brows, but he turns and walks back inside before he notices my reaction.
Following him inside, I take a moment to acknowledge the impressive home. His deceased wife’s touch is evident in the details.
I might be a wealthy man, but having a luxury mansion of this size is most definitely not on my wish list. That doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it for its grandeur.
And it is grand. The entrance is spacious, with white and gold speckled tiles and a huge chandelier hanging above us. There are two sweeping staircases with gold banisters, each leading to different wings of the home.
I continue following Blaze until we reach a large living room, and the view stops me in my tracks.
Holy fuck.
“You can say it. Everyone does,” Blaze says, waving his hand at the stunning night views of Los Angeles and the Hollywood sign.
It’s fucking impressive.
“Tell me you never get used to it,” I say, taking a glass of dark liquid from him, which I assume is whisky.
He lets out a melodic laugh and points to a chair indicating I should sit, then takes the corner of one sofa.
“That would be lying. I’ve been here twenty-five years, Josh.”
I like his honesty. It would’ve been easy to say what I wanted to hear. Just that one sentence tells me a lot about the man already. He’s got nothing to hide.
Of course, in my line of business I don’t let my guard down just on first impressions, but they are usually pretty right.
I drop down into the armchair and place the crystal glass on a coaster next to me. I don’t intend to drink it, but I took a sip to be polite. I drink, but tonight I’m working.
I also don’t think I need any alcohol in my system when meeting a woman my body physically reacted to just from online photos.
Not when her father is in the room.
Very few women catch my attention like that, so it caught me off guard.
I’m never off guard.
Hence, no drinking.
I’ll do my darndest, if Cassy is as gorgeous as the photos portrayed, to make sure neither she nor Blaze are aware of my attraction.
This is business, and the Cartwright’s are a fantastic client to secure. I’ll be looking to see how else I can help him. Plus, his word-of-mouth business with other multi-million-dollar clients could be very lucrative.
So, fucking my client’s daughter is not an option.
And extremely unprofessional.
Black Hawke Security has a reputation to uphold, working discretely and getting the job done for some serious customers. We are not some run-of-the-mill security company where our team can’t keep their cocks in their pants.
Still, people meet their spouses at work, so I’ve set some guidelines out for that and so far, there’ve been no issues.
I don’t date, and I’m absolutely not looking for love, marriage, and the picket fence life, so that’s not a concern.
I’m here for the big fat check and...curiosity.
How did a woman like Cassy survive a stalker? I read as much about the Isaac Miller case once Thomas, my super geeky tech guy, sent it to me. I got about halfway through it before having to leave, but read enough to be disgusted by what happened.
The guy is a sociopath.
It’s not uncommon for the child of a celebrity, with the level of success Blaze had, to suffer in one way or another from media attention. But this was extreme.
I then made a few calls to the US Marshals in Missouri, and they were less than helpful.
“Mr. Hawke.” The US Marshal greeted me. “We’ve got this handled. Take care of your client and we will keep everyone updated via the media.”
“Can you let me know if he is still in the Kansas?”
“No.”
“Can you share anything with me?” I pushed.
“No, I can’t. As I said—”
“Her stalker is on the loose. I think it’s reasonable for Cassy to be told any information that may impact her safety.” I started getting annoyed.
When he went silent, my brows lifted. Penny was standing in my doorway.
“You have my number. Call me with any information,” I say, then hang up.
It was possible they knew nothing, but they had to have some witnesses given the guy was running around in bright orange and his photo was all over the media.
How I’d missed it this morning, I don’t know. Not that it would have meant anything to me at the time. Cassy wasn’t on my radar.
She is now.
And I want to know where Isaac Miller is.
“Get Thomas hacking into their database. I want hourly updates.” I instructed Penny.
“You got it,” she said, swirling off in a sea of whatever perfume she wears every single day to get the job done.
That’s when Aidan had arrived.
“Who we hacking now?” he asked, following me as I walk down to the staff room.
“Marshal’s office in Missouri.”
“Because?” Aidan pressed.
“Got an escaped convict out of Leavenworth penitentiary in Kansas.” I pushed open the door and headed directly to the fridge. “How’d it go in Washington?”
I tossed him a bottle of water.
Aidan threw it right back and lifted the one in his hand.
Shit. How did I miss that?
“Contract renewed.” He replied.
I wasn’t surprised, but I was pleased. BHS is thriving financially, but the US Government is a big client. An unofficial client, if anyone ever asked.
We do black ops jobs that are off the books, and it needs to stay that way. They know the men Aidan and I employ. Hell, they’re all special ops who’ve left the military and gone private.
“Nice work.” I dug through the snack box.
“So, back to the escapee. They want us on this guy’s tail?” he asked, then frowned when I shook my head.
“Private protection job. Blaze Cartwright’s daughter. He was her stalker a decade ago.”
Aidan let out a laugh as he leaned his enormous shoulder against the wall. He was in a shirt and tie, having just arrived back from the Capitol, but there’s no mistaking his bulk.
“Shit. Ryder will enjoy this one. She’s stunning. Have you seen—”
“Ryder isn’t assigned. Yet. I am,” I interrupted.
I don’t know why his words irritated me. I had every intention of appointing Ryder to Cassy Cartwright’s protection, but first I wanted to meet her.
Whatever. I don’t have time to reflect on why. I had to get across town to the Cartwright’s in an hour.
Los Angeles traffic sucks.
“Thought you had a date?” I asked Aidan.
“I do. You should try it sometime,” he replied as he studied me.
It’s my turn to laugh. “No, thanks.”
“Josh—” Aidan started.
“Not tonight buddy.” I shook my head. Aidan knows my past, and that it isn’t up for discussion. Not tonight and not ever. “I need to hit the 405.”
I waved my bottle in the air and walked out.
I blink, returning to the present, and decide another hit of whisky isn’t a bad idea. Lifting the glass, I take a sip and study Blaze.
“Twenty-five years is a long time. Do your fans know where you live?” I lift my Nike covered foot to my knee and rest my arm on my leg.
“They do those celebrity tours in the hills. So yes. But it’s not well advertised. The media knows where to find me. No different from any other celebrity,” Blaze shares.
“Tell me about your security.”
“It’s not mine that I’m worried about. It’s Cassy’s. She doesn’t have any. Well, she has some basic alarm system, but it won’t be enough.”
Jesus.
No, it won’t.
“She’s not living here?” I ask, even though I’m not surprised. Cassy is a grown woman. But under the circumstances, I would’ve thought she’d move in with her father for protection.
He doesn’t have the sort of security Black Hawke could provide, but he has private security and a fully fenced property. If all she has is an alarm system, then that is worrying.
Blaze bellows out a laugh. “Good god, no.”
My brows lift in question.
“My daughter is incredibly independent. She keeps a distance from the fame and public life I lead. Understandable after what she went through,” he says.
“I should’ve considered the impact on her before releasing another album, but it’s been ten years and Miller was incarcerated.
I was surprised when the media focused on Cassy this time around. ”
I see the guilt all over his face and wonder what it must feel like to have children you love more than anything else on earth.
I’ll never know.
“Was there a lot of focus on her when your album released?”
“Yes. Enough to have them invade her life and start talking about Miller again. I know she thinks the two are connected. Who knows? Perhaps they are.”
“Maybe. He shouldn’t have been able to get out. That’s the key point,” I say, my eyes sliding around the room. “And you cannot make life decisions to keep a sociopath happy. That’s a road to disaster.”
“No. But I chose this life. Cassy didn’t,” Blaze says as he leans forward, resting his arms on his knees. “She’s very resistant to having personal security and doesn’t know I’ve hired you.”
Great.
“I do now,” a silky voice says, causing my cock to jump inside my pants.
Jesus Christ, she’s fucking gorgeous.
Way more than in her photos.
Cassy steps farther into the room and I watch as her unimpressed green gaze slides from her father to me. Thank fuck my leg is positioned as it is, because my cock is thickening inside my jeans. I don’t think I’ve had a physical reaction to a woman like this in my life.
Damn it.
I do not like feeling like this.
Unlike most of her online photos, Cassy is not glammed up or wearing full makeup tonight. Her dark hair is twisted on the top of her head, she has a touch of color on her cheeks and a hint of lip gloss.
It’s all she needs.
Her naturally dark lashes frame big green eyes and steal the show. I bet they’ve broken hearts, too.
Right now, they’re glued to mine with a hint of rebellion that makes me want to stride across the room, grip her face, smash my mouth down on hers, and tell her to drop to her knees.
Bad move. Now I have an image of my cock sliding between those glossy lips.
Fuck me.
I break contact—a first for me—and reach for the whisky once more. If she considers that a win, she makes no sign of it as I glance back while taking a sip.
“Don’t be mad, darling.” Blaze stands and holds his arms open.
“I am and I will be,” the sexy little siren says, then hugs her father warmly. While her voice is soft, there’s a hint of annoyance she’s trying to hide.
Meanwhile, I’m trying to hide my erection. I start thinking about baseball, reciting “The Star-Spangled Banner,” and a bunch of other non-sexual things.
My eyes aren’t with the program as they drift over her tight ass.
Not helping.
Cassy glances over her father’s shoulder at me and there’s fire within her gaze. Then she blinks it away as she straightens and smiles at her dad. “Go on. Introduce me to my new prison guard.”
That’s when I realize she’s trying to take control of this situation. Sorry, sweetheart. I’m in charge here. I’m always in charge.
I place my glass on the table as I stand, then close the distance between us. With each step, I delight as she has to lift her eyes higher and higher.
That’s right, baby. I’m big and bad. And if you’re lucky, one day I might just eat you all up.
“Josh Hawke,” I say, holding out my hand. “Navy SEAL and your new shadow.”
Because I’m absolutely not handing Cassy over to Ryder or anyone else. They’d fuck her and then not only would I have to fire them.
I’d have to kill them.