Chapter 10 Declan
DECLAN
"He called her what?" Ethan's voice is dangerously quiet as Mateo recounts yesterday's incident with the security tech.
"You heard me," Mateo says, pacing the pool house living room. "Right to her face. Well, her back, technically. Guy's lucky all I did was kick him off the job."
I lean against the kitchen counter, listening silently as I nurse my morning coffee. It's been a week since we moved in, and already the professional boundaries are blurring. Mateo defending Jade's honor. Ethan checking on her late at night. Me...
I shut down that train of thought. What happened in the gym stays in the gym.
"Is the security system fully operational now?" Ethan asks, steering the conversation back to practical matters.
"Completely," Mateo nods. "State of the art. If someone so much as breathes wrong near the property line, we'll know about it."
"Good." Ethan runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I've come to recognize as a sign of concern. "She's still not sleeping. I ran into her in the kitchen again last night. Third time this week."
"The threats are getting to her," Mateo suggests.
"It's more than that." Ethan frowns, staring into his coffee cup like it holds answers. "She's wound tight. Needs an outlet."
His gaze shifts to me. I don't like where this is going.
"When's the next time you're having a self-defense session with her?"
Never again is what I want to say. The memory of Jade beneath me on the mat, her body pressed against mine, the heat in her eyes. No. That road leads nowhere good. I haven't been alone with her since. Not because I don't want to. But because I want it too much.
"Been busy with the security overhaul," I deflect.
"Well, it's done now," Ethan points out. "And she needs something physical to help her work through the stress. Let her feel a little more in control again. I think you should restart the sessions."
"Or maybe she could just go for a run," I counter, refusing to be in an enclosed space with her again. "Fresh air. Change of scenery. Probably all she needs."
Mateo raises an eyebrow at me. "Since when are you the expert on what women need?"
I shoot him a look that would silence most men. Mateo, of course, just grins.
"Actually," Ethan considers, "that's not a bad idea. Being cooped up here isn't helping her state of mind."
"She hasn't left the property since we arrived," I point out. "Canceling appointments, working from home. It's a cage, even if it's a luxury one."
"A run could work," Ethan nods slowly. "With proper security protocols. Planned route, continuous check-ins..."
"I'll take her," I hear myself say before I've fully thought it through.
Both men stare at me like I've grown a second head. I'm a little surprised myself.
"You sure?" Ethan asks carefully. "I could..."
"I've got it." My tone leaves no room for debate. If I'm going to risk being alone with Jade again, it's going to be in the open air, not on a training mat with her body under mine.
Less than an hour later, I'm knocking on Jade's studio door, already regretting this decision.
When she calls for me to enter, I find her hunched over a large monitor, surrounded by photography equipment.
The room is filled with natural light, illuminating dozens of stunning black and white photographs on the walls.
She swivels in her chair, surprise registering on her face when she sees me. "Mr. Reid. This is unexpected."
"Declan," I correct her. After what happened in the gym, we're well past formalities.
She nods, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She remembers too. "Declan. What can I do for you?"
"Get your running shoes," I say. "We're going out."
Her eyebrows shoot up. "Out? As in, outside the property?"
"That's generally what 'out' means, yes."
A spark of something, maybe hope, maybe excitement, flashes in her eyes before caution reasserts itself. "Is that safe?"
"You'll be with me," I say simply.
She studies me for a long moment, then nods once. "I'll go get ready."
Fifteen minutes later, she meets me at the front door in running tights, a lightweight jacket, and a baseball cap pulled low over her face. Her copper hair is braided down her back, and oversized sunglasses hide her eyes.
"Celebrity incognito look?" I ask.
"Standard operating procedure," she says, parroting my tone. Then with a cheeky grin: "So, where exactly are you dragging me, Commander?"
"There's a trail that runs along the ridge," I explain, leading her outside. "Five miles round trip. Good elevation gain. Minimal chance of running into others on a weekday."
"You've scouted it already?" She sounds impressed.
"I run it every morning," I say. "Part of the job is knowing the terrain."
We start at an easy pace, warming up as we head toward the trailhead at the edge of her property.
I'm hyper aware of her presence beside me, the rhythm of her breathing, the light footfalls on the packed earth.
I guess that good physical condition is a necessity in her line of work. Similar to mine, I muse.
The morning air is crisp and clean, carrying the scent of sage and chaparral. Birds call to each other from the scrub brush alongside the trail. Every time Jade's arm brushes against mine, I feel it like an electric current.
"So," she says after we've settled into a comfortable pace, "was this your idea or Ethan's?"
"Mine," I admit. "You needed to get out of the house."
"I noticed you've been avoiding me," she says directly, catching me off guard. "Since the gym."
My pulse stumbles. She noticed. I keep my eyes on the trail ahead. "Seemed prudent."
"Because of what almost happened?"
"Because it can't happen again," I correct her.
She's quiet for a moment, just the sound of our feet on the trail and our measured breathing. "I know," she finally says. "I'm sorry if I made things... uncomfortable."
"You didn't," I say, which isn't entirely true. "It was a mutual lapse in judgment."
We crest a small hill, and the path opens up to reveal a stunning view of the canyon stretching out below us. The morning fog still clings to the lower elevations, creating a dreamy, otherworldly landscape.
"God, that's beautiful," she breathes, slowing to take it in. "I've lived here for over a year and never knew this trail existed."
"Most people don't look beyond their own fences," I observe.
"Or they're too afraid to," she adds quietly.
We pick up the pace again, pushing harder as the trail climbs. Jade matches me stride for stride, her breathing controlled, her form strong. When the path narrows, I take the lead, and she follows close behind.
"You run often?" I ask over my shoulder.
"When I can," she replies. "It's not always easy to find places where I won't be recognized or followed."
"Followed by paparazzi or stalkers?"
"Is there a difference?" There's a wry humor in her voice that surprises me.
"Fair point," I concede.
We reach a steeper section, and I instinctively slow my pace.
"Don't hold back on my account, Old Man," she teases, pushing past me with unexpected speed.
"Old Man?" I repeat, momentarily stunned by the playfulness in her tone.
"That's what Mateo calls you, isn't it?" She glances back with a challenging smile.
Something competitive flares in me, and I lengthen my stride to catch up. "Careful who you're teasing, sweetheart. I own this trail."
"Less talking, more running," she calls back, increasing her pace even further.
I find myself grinning as I push to match her. For a moment, we're not client and protector, not model and bodyguard, just two people racing up a trail, the simple pleasure of physical exertion burning away the complications that normally stand between us.
She holds her lead for an impressive distance before I finally catch her near the crest of the hill.
We both slow to a walk, breathing hard as we reach the summit.
The view here is even more spectacular. 360 degrees of canyon, ocean in the distance, the sprawl of Los Angeles barely visible through the morning haze.
"Worth the climb?" I ask as she takes it all in.
"Definitely," she says, eyes wide behind her sunglasses. She pulls them off, apparently unconcerned about being recognized up here where there's no one to see us. Without them, her face looks younger, more open. "I needed this more than I realized."
We find a rock formation that makes a natural bench and sit to catch our breath. The stone is sun-warmed beneath us, the air cooler at this elevation. Sweat beads along her hairline, catching the light like tiny diamonds.
I reach into my backpack and pull out a water bottle, taking a long drink before offering it to her. Our fingers brush as she takes it, and I try not to react to the contact.
"Thanks," she says, tilting her head back as she drinks.
I can't help but watch as her throat works, a drop of water escaping to trail slowly down her neck, disappearing beneath the collar of her jacket. I'm suddenly aware of how dry my own mouth is, despite having just had water.
She catches me staring and doesn't look away. Just wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, simple, unbothered. A small thing. But damn if it doesn't hit like a punch to the gut.
The air between us tightens.
I clear my throat, forcing my gaze up to a hawk circling above us. Anything to cool the heat simmering between us.
She takes another sip of water, then leans back on her hands, exhaling slowly. "So, was all that Navy SEAL pacing just to show off, or...?"
I huff a quiet laugh. "Force Recon, not SEAL. And not showing off. I run this trail every day, remember?"
"Right," she says, smiling. "Because a casual seven-minute mile uphill is just normal. Are you sure you weren't trying to impress me?"
I glance at her. "Would it have worked?"
She gives me a sly half-smile. "Maybe."
The corner of my mouth twitches, but I don't let it grow.
She tilts her head, studying me again. "So, Force Recon..."
The question is a welcome distraction from the dangerous direction of my thoughts. I confirm. "Force Recon. Seven years. Running with full gear makes you appreciate running without it."
She sounds impressed. "That's Marine special operations, right?"
"You know your military units."
She shrugs. "I did some USO tours when I was younger. Picked things up."
"And the fighting skills?" she asks, curiosity evident in her tone. "You weren't always that good, I see." She says pointing playfully to the scar on my face.
A complicated question with a complicated answer. "Life," I say simply. "Grew up in a rough neighborhood in Baltimore. You either learned to fight or you became a victim."
She nods, understanding in her eyes. "That's why I learned," she admits quietly.
I wait, giving her space to continue or not.
"I was in a... situation once. Where I was powerless." Her voice drops, and she stares out at the horizon rather than meeting my gaze. "It's not a good place to be. I swore I'd never be powerless again."
The weight of her words, what they imply, settles heavy in my chest. I think of the "Little Doll" notes, her reaction to her mother, the pieces of her story that she shared with Ethan and that he shared with us. I don't push for details she's not ready to give.
"Being powerless changes you," I say instead. "Makes you see the world differently. Makes you build walls."
She looks at me now, like she's searching for something in my face. "You sound like you know."
"I do." It's more than I usually share, but something about the moment, about her vulnerability, makes me continue. "My father was... not a good man. Used his fists to make his points. On my mother. On me. On anyone who crossed him."
"I'm sorry," she says softly.
"It was a long time ago," I say, though some wounds never fully heal. "But it taught me early that strength isn't just about muscle. It's about control. Choice. Using power to protect, not to hurt."
"Is that why you became a bodyguard? To protect?"
"Eventually," I say, skipping over the parts of my story I'm not ready to share. My time in prison. The mistakes that put me there. "Ethan gave me a second chance when I needed one. Believed in me when most wouldn't."
She nods, seemingly understanding there's more to the story than I'm telling. "I get that. Gloria did the same for me." She takes a deep breath. "I should apologize for how I acted when my mother showed up. What I said to you, how I treated you. It wasn't fair."
"You were protecting yourself," I say. "I understand why better now."
"Still," she insists. "I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
"Apology accepted," I say simply. "Though it wasn't necessary."
She smiles then, a genuine smile that transforms her face. In that moment, I see what the cameras see, not just her physical beauty, but the light that comes from within when she lets her guard down.
"We should head back," I say reluctantly, breaking the spell before I do something stupid like touch her face or, worse, kiss her.
"In a minute," she says, rising to her feet. She walks to the edge of the overlook, framing the view with her fingers like she's composing a photograph. Then she turns, framing me in the same way, her head tilted as she studies the composition.
"What are you doing?" I ask, feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious under her artistic scrutiny.
"Creating a memory," she says simply. "The light is perfect right now. I want to remember it."
Something in her voice, in the way she looks at me, makes my chest tighten. This isn't just about the scenery.
"Ready?" I ask, standing up.
She nods, her eyes still holding mine for a moment. "Thank you for this, Declan. For getting me out of the house. For... being here for me."
"Anytime," I promise, meaning it more than I should.
We run back in companionable silence, pace slower than before, as if we both know we're returning to a reality neither of us is quite ready to face. Back to being a client and protector. Back to professional distance and the complications that come with our situation.
But something has shifted between us on that mountain top, a connection forged through shared vulnerability.
And as we approach her house, I find myself already planning our next run, already looking forward to another moment where the walls come down and we're just Declan and Jade, two people finding unexpected common ground above the canyon.
And that, I realize with growing certainty, is the most dangerous development yet.
But that memory she framed with her fingers? I'm going to carry it with me too.