Protected By The Bad Boy (Bad Boy Bodyguards Book 1) Page 2

  I smiled uneasily and without thinking, placed my fingers over my upset stomach. “I hope so.”

  “You okay, pumpkin? Cause if you’re not, I need to know this minute.”

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. When the time comes, I’ll pull it together.”

  He smiled, seeming relieved at my response. He probably didn’t have a backup plan. “Great.”

  We continued walking down the hallway and passed a couple of women, most likely stagehands. They stared at me, curiosity showing on their faces and something else. Annoyance.

  “There she is,” one of them whispered. “Don’t know why they picked her when they had so many other good choices. She’s cute, but not as cute as…”

  I couldn’t make out the rest, but I’d heard enough. The comment went straight through my gut, wounding me in a matter of seconds. You had to have a strong backbone in this business, and that wasn’t easy. People always had a criticism to dish out, but you couldn’t let it get to you.

  They were right, anyway. There had been some amazing singers at that audition, all extremely attractive, but Johnny had chosen me. I squared my shoulders and determined to put their comments out of my head.

  “Here we are,” Edmund said, pointing to a small space on the left. “This is your dressing room. I’ll come by in a couple of hours to check on you.” He bit on his bottom lip and looked at me with concern again. “Anything I can get you? Tums? Pepto-Bismol?”

  “Thanks, but I won’t need it. Really.”

  He looked at me a little harder as if trying to gauge the truthfulness of that statement, and whatever he saw on my face must have convinced him that I wasn’t going to fall apart. “Good girl. I’ll check back later.”

  He left, and I closed the door and began unpacking my small suitcase. I had a few hours to get ready, so there was no rush. I looked through the cabinets in the room to see what items were available to me. There was a hairdryer and dozens of bottles full of hair product in one cabinet, and a few vases in another. I assumed the vases were for flowers if I was lucky enough to receive them.

  My phone dinged with a text, but I ignored it, wanting to get situated first. A few minutes later, my cell hadn’t stopped pinging. I finally picked it up and saw several texts from my mom and my friend, Verity.

  There was a text from Leo as well. Verity had been hounding me for months to go out with him, and I’d finally agreed to get her off my back. She didn’t know him personally but said he was a friend’s brother. I wasn’t ready to move on, but a part of me wanted to test out that theory, so I’d given him a chance. I went on the date with low expectations, but they weren’t low enough, apparently, because it was way worse than I’d thought it would be.

  Something about him had made me feel very uncomfortable. I told Verity afterward that he’d seemed off to me, but she had accused me of making excuses because I was having a difficult time moving on. Perhaps she was right. But still… I had no interest in seeing him again. She had meant well. I just didn’t like him.

  I hesitantly clicked on Leo’s text. Hey beautiful, I’d like to see you again. How about tomorrow? I’d explained to him at the end of the date that I didn’t feel we were a good match, so either he wasn’t taking no for an answer, or he wasn’t all there upstairs. I had a feeling it was both.

  I checked out the other texts while I was at it. Verity’s said: You’ve got this. Mom’s said: Praying for you. So proud of you! I smiled, comforted by their encouragement. My dad had called early this morning while Mom was in the shower, and he’d given me one of his pep-talks. Thinking about it made me smile.

  Verity and my parents had wanted to come to the concert to support me, but I needed to do this on my own. I could stand in front of a crowd of strangers and not feel anxious, but the nerves kicked in once I saw familiar faces. It was just one of those weird quirks I had. If this concert led to even more opportunities, I hoped I’d get past some of that.

  Someone knocked on the door, and assuming it was Edmund, I walked over and answered. “Hey, back already…”

  The words died on my lips because it wasn’t Edmund. It was some man I didn’t know, and he had a huge bouquet of white roses in his hands. He was tall and slim with black hair and the strangest blue eyes I’d ever seen. He smiled, and a flash of memory raced through my head of a movie I’d watched. The actor, Steve Buscemi, had played a serial killer, and this guy looked just like him in that movie. I pushed those thoughts out of my head. He was not a serial killer, and I shouldn’t allow myself to make those kinds of associations. He was probably a decent person, and it wasn’t fair to judge based on a resemblance.

  “Hi, I’m Gene, one of the stagehands, and a fan asked me to bring these to you.”

  My gaze fell to the roses he was holding. “Really? Wow, they’re so beautiful.”

  “I’ll put them in a vase for you.”

  He gave me a friendly smile and before I could protest and tell him I’d prefer to do that myself, he pushed his way through the doorway into my room. After he passed by, I kept the door open, noting that no one was around, but I felt safer knowing someone might hear me if I needed help. Not that I expected a problem, but after being mugged four years ago, I didn’t like to take chances. It was eerily quiet, and I figured that must mean the staff were setting up on stage.

  The guy started randomly opening cabinets, so I followed him into the room and opened the cabinet I knew had the vases. “They’re in here.” I took out a large one and made my way to the bathroom. Filling it up with water, I glanced over my shoulder to make sure he wasn’t behind me. Something about him made me edgy, and my instincts practically shouted at me not to turn my back to him. When I finished my task, I returned to find Gene staring at me with an almost crazed expression.

  “I’m your biggest fan, you know.”

  The words themselves didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was the way he was looking at me, like he was zoning out and not mentally there.

  “You’ve heard me sing before?”

  He nodded. “Many times. I saw you last week at The Coffee Grind for your performance.” He hesitated. “You were magnificent.”

  I hadn’t seen him there, but then again, the place had been packed. “Th-Thank you.”

  “I took a picture of you and blew it up, poster-size. Put it on my wall.”

  “Oh…” My heart began to pound a little harder, and uneasiness washed over me.

  “You really are beautiful.” He stepped forward, his eyes practically bulging. The man was old enough to be my father, but he was not acting fatherly at all.

  My pepper-spray was in my purse, but I would have to walk past him to reach it, and there was no way I was doing that. I would just have to talk my way through this. “Thank you,” I said, curtly. “Let’s put those in the vase, and then I’m really sorry, but I can’t chat any longer. I need to get ready for the concert.”

  I placed the vase on the counter and motioned for him to put the flowers inside. He didn’t. He just stood there, staring at me like a lunatic. My pulse kicked up a notch and adrenaline shot through me. I needed to speed up this exchange and get him out of here.

  “I must confess,” he said, “these flowers aren’t from someone else. I bought them myself because white roses remind me of purity, and you’re very pure, Kayla.” His eyes appeared cloudy, almost as if he were a zombie and not a real person. Maybe he was on drugs. “You are pure, aren’t you?” He took another step closer. “Just as I imagined you would be.”

  My chest tightened, and a shot of fear pressed down on me, freezing me to the spot. This man was not safe, and I had unknowingly let him into my room. After all I’d been through, how could I let something like this happen? My lungs constricted, and it was hard to breathe.

  “Gene, you’re making me very uncomfortable.” I barely got the words out as panic shot its way through my system. “Thank you for the flowers. I do appreciate them, but you need to leave.” Not wanting to be alone with him one second lon
ger, I backed up until I was standing outside the doorway. “Please go.”

  His shoulders sagged, and he let his arm fall so the flowers he’d been holding were pointing down. “Oh, no. You’ve gotten the wrong impression. That’s the last thing I wanted.” He shook his head slowly as if this were a large misunderstanding he could easily correct. “I’m your biggest fan. Biggest. And I would never hurt you.”

  I wanted to scream at him to get out, but my gut told me it was better to remain kind but firm. Upsetting him wouldn’t help the matter, and if he really was crazy, I had to deal with this delicately.

  “I’m thankful for all my fans. And since you came here to see me sing, I’m sure you’ll understand that I need to get ready.”

  He nodded. “Of course, I understand.” He walked unsteadily toward me, an unstable vibe floating off of him.

  We were standing in the hallway now, but no one else was around. My heart was beating in a rapid staccato, my skin heating to a feverish temperature from my flu. I felt like I might be sick.

  His gaze narrowed in and dropped to my lips. “If I could just kiss you on the cheek before I go, that would mean so much to me.” He paused. “Just one itty-bitty kiss.” He pointed to his own cheek. “Right here.”

  I shook my head, shuddering before I had the chance to stop myself. “No. That’s crossing the line.”

  His brows lowered, and irritation flickered in his eyes for the first time. “Why are you treating me like this? It’s just a chaste kiss on the cheek. You owe me that much after I got you the flowers.” He moved so quickly, I barely realized what was happening. He lunged at me, intending to kiss me, but I moved just in time.

  “Stop!” I screamed. “Help. Somebody, help me!”

  Chapter 4

  Kayla

  “Don’t make this so hard,” he grunted. “Just let me have a kiss and I’ll go.”

  A security guard came running, and Gene dropped the flowers on the hallway floor and took off in the opposite direction, rushing out the back door. Once he was gone, I held onto the doorframe and sagged, my knees feeling weak all of a sudden.

  Edmund jogged over, panic on his face. “Kayla, are you okay? I heard you screaming.”

  I nodded. “How did that guy get in here? He was crazy.”

  He swallowed hard, his thick brows lowering as if baffled. “I don’t know. We were all up front, and the door automatically locks when it shuts, so he must have slipped in with a few of the latecomers.”

  “He told me he was a stagehand. Said his name was Gene.”

  He shook his head. “We don’t have anyone by that name working for us.”

  A feeling of dread pooled in my stomach, threatening to turn everything upside down. “He said he was a fan and saw me perform last week.”

  Edmund’s expression turned sympathetic. “That’s something you’ll have to get used to the more you’re in the public eye. For every thousand solid fans there is one psycho who wants to be your best friend.”

  “Please tell me that’s not an actual statistic.”

  He laughed. “Thankfully, it’s not.” He pressed his lips together and tilted his head to the side. “I’m sorry you had to go through that before a show. Will you be okay?”

  “I think so.” I glanced warily down the hall where Gene and the security guard disappeared. “Can you find out what’s going on out there?”

  “Sure.” He looked at the door and then returned his gaze to me. “Lock yourself in and don’t answer unless it’s me.”

  I nodded. “Trust me, you don’t have to tell me twice. But first, do you mind getting rid of those flowers?” I glanced at the white roses on the floor, taunting me with their presence.

  “Of course.” He reached down and picked the bouquet up, studying it closely. “I don’t see the name of a floral shop. Don’t worry, I’ll dispose of them.”

  Twenty minutes after that conversation, Edmund knocked on my door, and when I answered, the security guard was with him, shaking his head.

  “Sorry, Miss, but he got away. He jumped into a teal Chevy Impala, and judging by its appearance, it was probably a nineteen sixties model.” He paused, appearing out of breath. “The first letter of the license plate was an ‘A,’ but he sped off, and I couldn’t see the rest.”

  I held a hand over my stomach, still feeling under the weather and wondering how I was going to get through this. “What do I do?”

  “Well, he’s gone, and I seriously doubt he’ll come back, so you don’t have to worry about him during the concert. I’ll tell security to keep a lookout for him, but he won’t bother you again. Not tonight, at least. We’ll put in a call to the police so you can file a report in case he bothers you again.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Hey, you don’t look so good,” Edmund said. “Maybe you should lay down for a while.”

  “No, I couldn’t sleep if I tried, but I’ll take you up on that Pepto-Bismol.”

  ***

  After that, I spent some time in prayer and then did my hair and makeup. Despite all the obstacles, my heart calmed and I focused my attention on the night ahead. I knew my mind would return to the issue again at some point, but I couldn’t allow myself to think about Gene until after my performance.

  As I got ready, I dressed in a bright red dress and black cowboy boots. My long, brown hair fell over my shoulders in a beachy wave hairstyle. My stomach was uneasy from nerves and everything else that had happened, or maybe it was all from the flu and I was a complete idiot for going forward with this. Still, I was determined to keep my commitment. My parents raised me with a never-give-up attitude, and that was how I planned to proceed.

  Time went quickly after that. When my name was announced, a surge of adrenaline shot through me as I walked out on stage, and I went directly into performance-mode. “How’s everyone doing this evening?” I yelled into the microphone.

  The crowd cheered, and I laughed. “Come, on, y’all, you can do better than that!”

  The audience went wild, and I smiled and nodded. “That’s better. Let’s have some fun tonight.”

  The music started, and I sang a few songs, a euphoric feeling washing through me, not taking away the uneasiness in my stomach, but making the night easier to bear. Somehow, I managed to get through the next forty minutes. I might not have been at my best, but my presentation didn’t seem to suffer. No one could say I didn’t give it my all.

  Back in my dressing room, I breathed a sigh of relief that it was over. I still felt a little sick, but I’d enjoyed performing and had a sense of accomplishment after pushing myself.

  A police officer took my report regarding the incident with Gene. Larry, the security guard, gave the make and model of the car he drove away in and the first letter of the license plate. They said they would check surveillance video and let me know if they located him. In the meantime, Larry promised to walk me to my car (that had already been the plan), and I told him I’d tell him when I was ready to leave.

  I spoke to Mom and Dad on the phone and had a chance to call Verity as well. I left out the incident with Gene because I hated for them to worry, and, quite frankly, I didn’t want the night to be colored by that horrible situation. Instead, I concentrated on the positive aspects of the evening and how I got through it even though I felt under the weather.

  When it was finally time to return home, Larry escorted me through the parking lot, and even with him at my side, I held a small canister of pepper-spray in my hand. I felt more secure knowing I had some means to defend myself if I had to. It was spring, the air was still chilly at night, and I was thankful I’d thought to bring a sweater.

  “You were wonderful tonight,” Larry said. “Such a beautiful voice.”

  “Thank you. Somehow I made it through.”

  “Sorry about what happened earlier. I feel terrible that guy got backstage.”

  “Well, hopefully he doesn’t—”

  I didn’t get a chance to finish that statement because someon
e ran up behind us and I heard a thud. Larry dropped to the ground, and I turned in horror to find a man in a black baseball cap and dark sunglasses standing there, shadows falling all around him. He had a green and brown camouflage print cloth mask that reached up over his nose and fit snugly over the back of his head. I’d seen construction workers with something similar to keep the hot sun off their faces.

  My eyes widened, and terror ripped through me as the gravity of the situation sunk in. This man was here to hurt me, and I couldn’t tell if it was Gene, but he seemed about the same height. My pulse accelerated until it felt as though my heart was beating out of my chest. As if it had wings of its own and was about to fly off. I froze and could barely breathe or form a coherent thought.

  He grabbed me by the arm and started dragging me through the parking lot as if I were a limp doll. I’d heard that moments like these revealed how a person dealt with a crisis. It all boiled down to one of two choices: fight or flight. Four years ago, when Daniel and I were mugged, I did neither. I just stood there…stunned.

  I couldn’t let that happen again. Although I was exhausted and physically spent, I pushed against him as best I could while at the same time trying to unsnap the cover of the pepper spray in my hand. I brought my foot up and then slammed it down on top of his, but it seemed to have little effect. I tugged at the mask around his face and managed to pull it down a few inches, revealing a jagged scar on the right side of his jaw. It was raised off the skin with a rope-like texture. He gripped my wrist and lifted the cloth covering to where it had been, all in one motion.

  I screamed, hoping to draw a crowd…anyone who was in the vicinity. My antics startled him, giving me the freedom to undo the snap and aim my pepper-spray at him. He knocked it out of my hand before I had a chance to expel the contents. A man shouted in the distance, and several bystanders ran towards us. That was enough to spook him, and he took off in the opposite direction.

  Larry stood to his feet unsteadily and rubbed the back of his head. “Where’d he go?”