Triple-Duty Bodyguards : A Reverse Harem Romance

I go down to reception to show hotel security X’s picture, and then perform a quick sweep of the public areas. When I get back inside the suite, Matt is sitting at the dining table, a bottle of sparkling water in front of him, scowling at his phone.

“Hotel security agreed to have a night guard monitor the live CCTV tonight,” I tell him, hanging up my jacket, “and they’re checking the IDs of everyone that comes in and out.” I look around the lounge. “Where’s Briar?”

“Sulking in her room,” Matt mutters.

I glance at her door. The light is on, and I can hear the low hum of her television playing. “I don’t know what you expected. If you don’t tell her why she can’t go, of course she’s going to be pissed. You’re treating her like a kid.”

His jaw clenches. “She hired us to protect her. What’s the point of having security if she doesn’t follow my advice?”

I snort. “You mean your orders?”

He looks up at me, his eyes icy. “Does it matter?”

“This is her life. Her career. You really think that she’s going to let you come in and disrupt all of that for no apparent reason?” I shake my head and make for her door. “When we tell her, I’m sure she’ll understand completely.”

Matt grabs my wrist. “We can’t tell her about the gunpowder.”

“What?” I shake him off me. “She has to know! It’s her life at stake!”

He’s breathing hard. “We can’t control her. She completely disobeyed us the last time this happened. If we tell her, she’ll just get mad and make everything worse.” He rubs his face. “Bombs, Kenta. Not ammo, bloody bombs.”

I frown. “I think you’re underestimating her. She lashed out last time, because that’s how she’s learnt to deal with harassment in the industry. Now that we’ve told her about the differences in stalker psychology, she won’t make the same mistake twice. If anything, it was our fault for not briefing her properly.”

Matt slams a hand onto the table. “How do you know that she won’t do it again?”

I shrug. “I just do. I know her.”

“And you’re willing to bet her life on it?” He asks, his eyes wild. “You’re willing to bet the lives of everybody at that premiere? Every fan, every celebrity, every worker and photographer and kid?”

I suddenly realise what’s happening. He’s not seeing what’s in front of him. In his head, he’s right back in the Middle East. The last time he took a chance on our lives, we ended up getting tortured for months. Now, it’s hardly surprising that he wants to err on the side of caution.

It’s not surprising, but it’s still not right.

“I would happily leave their lives in her hands, yes. She’s a gentle girl, Matt. She wouldn’t knowingly do anything that would put someone innocent in danger.”

“But—”

I throw up my hands, exasperated. “What are we supposed to do for the rest of the trip, keep her locked up in here, and not tell her why? Sooner or later, she’ll just end up firing us and doing whatever the Hell she wants. It’s not fair to keep her in the dark like this.” I shake my head. “I’m telling her.”

He stands, squaring off against me. “You are not.”

I grit my teeth. “You’re not my commander anymore. I’m. Telling. Her. She needs—”

I’m interrupted by a loud beep from my two-way. I unclip it, bringing it to my mouth.

“Hello?”

“Turn on the TV,” Glen says without any preamble. He’s breathing hard, like he’s running. “Channel 17.”

“What?” I’m confused. “Do you need backup? Why are you out of breath?”

“Coming up from the gym now. Channel 17.”

Matt grabs the remote and starts flicking through channels.

“Why are we doing this?” I ask. “What’s happening?”

“Coverage of the premiere just came up on the screens in the gym. She’s—”

“She’s there,” Matt says, his voice full of horror. I glance up at the wide-screen plasma, and my stomach drops. It’s a wide shot, showing thirty-odd celebrities walking down the red carpet, smiling and signing autographs. Hundreds of fans press against red velvet ropes cording them away from the stars. Briar is easy to pick out in her bright red dress and scarlet lipstick. She’s beaming at a teenage girl holding a baby, leaning over the rope line to take a selfie with them. Behind her, a man in sunglasses and an earpiece is checking his phone and completely ignoring the crowd. I vaguely recognise him from a popular LA security company.

Shit.

The door to the suite opens, and Glen slams inside, gym bag over his shoulder and sweat staining the front of his shirt. He doesn’t say anything, immediately grabbing his gun from the case by the door. “We’re leaving. Now.”

I go to pick up my pistol, but before I can, my phone rings. Anfisa’s number flashes across the screen. I pick it up and slam it onto the table as I strap up.

“Kenta Li. You’re on speaker, Matt and Glen are here.”

“Good. You need to see this,” Anfisa says, her voice clipped. “It landed in her DMs a few minutes ago. Our research team just clocked it.”

My phone dings with an incoming image. It’s a screenshot from one of Briar’s social media accounts.

I can’t wait to see you tonight, angel. I’ll be there to pick you up and take you home.

If you don’t come quietly, people will die. X

Underneath, there’s a low-quality photograph of a pile of short silver pipes stacked in a pyramid. Closing my eyes, I pass my phone to the others, reaching for my gun again.

“Pipe bombs,” Glen says quietly.

“We lost track of her,” I tell Anfisa. “She’s at the event now.”

Anfisa’s silent for a moment, then a stream of Russian swearing pours out of the phone. I catch a few words. Idiotic. British. Moron.

“We know,” Matt snaps, heading to the door. I join him, stepping into my shoes. “What the Hell are you going to do?”

“I’m doubling police presence and calling in the LAPD bomb squad. We’ll try and get the area evacuated ASAP, but it’ll be tricky with all the media. The studio will probably kick in their heels. Not to mention all the celebs.” She sounds exhausted.

“Do what you have to,” Matt says. “We’ll go in and extract her.”

She sighs. “I don’t like this. We’ve been on the back foot almost this entire investigation. He’s clearly smart enough to evade detection. The fact that he literally told you about the bomb threat means that he just doesn’t give a shit anymore.”

I don’t know how to respond to that. “See you there, Anfisa,” I mutter, and she hangs up. I turn to Matt, irritation buzzing through me. “Nice job,” I say flatly. “Now she’s right where he wants her, and she doesn’t even know that the bastard threatened to blow her up.”

All the colour drains from Matt’s face.