Guarding Madison (Bodyguards, Inc.) Read online

  Guarding Madison

  By

  Tabitha Gibson

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and/or are fictious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is purely coincidental.

  Guarding Madison is COPYRIGHT © 2011 by Tabitha Gibson and all rights are reserved. No part of this story should be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of Tabitha Gibson with the exception of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews.

  Chapter 1

  Fuckin’ Hollywood. Miles of fence whizzed by before he came to the end of the driveway that would no doubt lead up to an entirely too big house. The Wide Glide Harley rumbled to a stop.

  Ahh, the rich and famous. They never changed. No matter the cost, they never changed. Was it any surprise that when his phone rang, it was for one of them? Not really. He had been expecting it actually. He just wondered what took so long.

  With one last drag off his thin cigar, Lucien Trace flicked it to the ground and snuffed it out with his boot heel. Trace made a mental note on the height of the metal gate and frowned at the poor shape of the lock. Hardly protection if you asked him.

  Keen eyes scanned the area and made mental notes of the other flawed areas: overgrown brush partially blocking one of the cameras, rusty bars and a large space between the last bar and the stone pillar. He was sure people thought the gate was impressive from far away, but up close it was pathetic.

  His gloved hand reached out and pressed the call button. After a few moments, someone responded. Thankfully, the voice box was in working order.

  “Yes?”

  “Trace to see Jay Starler.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “Yes,” Trace replied, hoping they would take the time to check. His hopes, however, were dashed when the gates creaked opened within seconds. He shook his head and climbed back onto his Harley.

  Strike one.

  Sliding dark RayBans over his eyes, he turned the key. The motorcycle roared to life and Trace traveled up the long drive.

  A large pool house and Olympic style pool were off to the right but not too far from the main house. Mansion was more like it. He had seen some large houses in his life considering his line of work, but nothing prepared him for the size of this one.

  A limousine was parked near the front entrance while its driver concentrated on buffing the already shiny chrome fenders. He gave Trace a glance but nothing more and went back to his work.

  Strike two.

  Trace shut the engine off and lifted tired limbs over the machine then stretched lightly. He never tired of the sensation riding his hog gave him. Some people might call it a cheap thrill and it might be, but it was a damn nice one. Only thing better was a good woman between his legs. Unfortunately, he hadn’t found a good woman in a long time.

  A very long time.

  Maybe he was picky but Trace knew what he liked, and since Candice, he hadn’t the desire for a female. Not that his level of need hadn’t been raised a few times; Playboy bunnies, panty girls from Victoria’s, a hard body from the gym. He wasn’t dead; they just lacked that something special.

  He strode to the door and out of curiosity, tested the door knob. It opened. He frowned.

  Strike three. He’s out.

  Trace turned around to leave but stopped and took a deep breath. Usually after three mistakes he left. It had kept him sane and alive all these years. If he were smart, he’d stick to tradition. But Jay was family and Trace had made a promise.

  He always kept his promises.

  Trace turned back around, pulled the door shut and rang the bell. A moment later, an aging woman opened it. She looked up his chest to his face and quickly put her hand over her mouth in an attempted to cover her gasp at the sight of Trace. He could tell she thought about shutting the door so he cleared his throat and spoke.

  “Ma’am. I’m here to see Jay Starler.”

  “Is… is he expecting you?”

  “Yes.”

  The woman forced a smile, stepped back and motioned him in. “Please come in. I’ll show you to him.”

  Trace kept his frown to himself. The woman was scared enough. Who could blame her though? It’s not every day you see a large, leather-clad biker at your door.

  Trace followed the small woman through a large foyer and inside a set of double doors. The living room he presumed. He noted three sets of French doors were open, letting the fresh air in. A curving staircase that disappeared into a darkened hallway cut off his surveillance. His guide then stopped at a large door in the corner of the house and knocked twice.

  “Come in,” a masculine voice called out.

  She opened the door and motioned Trace in before silently retreating down the hall.

  Trace peered inside before stepping into the office set up with yet another set of French doors leading out to a small patio. They too were open. He frowned briefly.

  “Just set the coffee down Carol, I’ll get it in a minute.”

  Trace watched the smaller man hunched over the filing cabinet then smiled hearing the familiar fussing over misplaced items. He allowed a small smirk before he spoke. “What? No thank you? Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

  Jay swung around from the filing cabinet and grinned widely. “Trace!”

  Jay rushed over and hugged him tight. Trace returned the gesture then held Jay out at arm’s length. “Look at you. Moving up in the world.”

  “Working for a superstar like Madison Jordan doesn’t hurt,” Jay replied with a laugh and motioned for Trace to sit in one of the leather chairs across from his own. Carol returned carrying a silver tray covered with dainty cups and saucers, a pot of coffee with all the trimmings and a single, large mug.

  Trace looked up at Carol and gave her a nod. She set it on the desk and left without a backward glance.

  “I think she likes you,” Jay said with a chuckle.

  Trace grunted. Jay poured the hot liquid into a cup and filling the larger mug for Trace. Enjoying the fresh brew, they talked for a few minutes to catch up on each other’s life.

  “I was on my way to a long, overdue vacation when you called,” Trace said.

  “I really appreciate you coming.”

  “So you’ve said. About half a dozen times now. What’s the deal?”

  “Typical stalker. What else?”

  “You wouldn’t have called me if it was a typical stalker. I don’t work that and you know it, Uncle Jay.”

  Jay was silent and lowered his gaze under Trace’s intense stare. He ran his hand through graying hair and nodded. “You’re right. It’s more than just a typical stalker. There’ve been two murders.”

  Trace’s expression didn’t change. He senses kicked into gear and he was suddenly aware of everything in the room. The ticking of the clock behind Jay; the bee that buzzed around the open door; the steam that escaped from each of their cups. He returned his focus back to his uncle. “Why call me then? Sounds like a job for the locals to me.”

  “If it were that easy, trust me, I would have called them in. Unfortunately this guy is clever and appears unstoppable.”

  “No one is unstoppable,” Trace said.

  Jay pulled open a drawer and fished out a packet of papers bound together. He dropped them on the desk with a soft thud. “Perhaps this will help.”

  Trace picked up the packet and read the title.

  The Circle of Friends End.

  “What’s this?”

  “The current script that she’s filming,” Jay answered. “It’s a story about five friends who for
m a bond in high school, treat outsiders like trash and mentally abuse a girl who wanted to be in. The girl kills each member of the circle one by one until the main character is left. Then she kills her before killing herself.”

  Trace gave Jay a look of disbelief. “Nice story.”

  “The sad thing is that this is a mirror image to her life. Two of her friends are dead.”

  Trace opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a woman’s scream. Trace dropped the script and pulled his nine millimeter from a holster hidden beneath his jacket. He yanked the door opened and raced across the hall. Finding the door locked he raised his booted foot to kick it in.

  “Trace! Wait!” Jay called out.

  Madison Jordan was stunned when the incredibly tall and handsome man burst into the room. She was even more stunned when he tackled her acting partner, Ethan James to the ground and put him in a headlock.

  “What the hell?” Ethan managed to choke out.

  The intruder was sexy, no doubt about that, but who the hell was he?

  “Excuse me, but what do you think you are doing?” she asked, folding her arms.

  Jay rushed into the room and tried to explain. “He’s… he’s the bodyguard. The one I was telling you about,” Jay replied, somewhat breathless.

  Madison frowned. “I told you it wasn’t necessary.”

  “And I told you that it was.” Jay crossed his arms and frowned back at her.

  Jay had been her manager for a few years now. He was such a dear man, sneaking in her favorite snacks and off to private places for her cherished moments of solitude. She wasn’t buying his theory that murders straight from her current film were being acted out in real life and that her time was coming.

  Sure, she had lost two friends from high school but that was only coincidence. She hadn’t seen them since graduation and they all lived in different states, different lives.

  Jay had talked about hiring security for her but she nixed the idea. There were enough people in and around her life right now that adding a whole new entourage was unacceptable.

  Jay had pleaded for just one person, for security purposes when she was out in public. She had promised to think about it. Jay apparently had other ideas.

  “Really Madison, don’t you care for your own safety?” Jay’s voice snapped her back to the present.

  “What… about… my safety?” said the man twisted like a pretzel between the well-muscled arms. Ethan’s face was beat red, quickly heading for the next color in the rainbow.

  “Oh, sorry.” Jay waved his hand. “Trace, please let him go.”

  Trace frowned, but released the man who slumped to the floor and sucked wind hard.

  “Ethan, perhaps we could practice our lines another time?” Madison gave a harsh look to Trace, a trick she learned from her mother. Surprisingly, he didn’t wither under her gaze. Most men did. Secretly she was glad he didn’t.

  Instead, he crossed his arms and glared right back.

  Ethan picked himself up and with a mock dusting, left the room.

  Madison turned back to Jay and looked at him expectantly.

  “Madison Jordan, this is Lucien Trace,” he said, stepping backwards to allow the two to shake hands.

  Madison slipped her hand in his. She wasn’t a small woman by any means. Above average in height and weight, she didn’t expect to be dwarfed by anyone. But this man was different.

  “Nice to meet you Mr. Trace,” Madison said and gave him her best solid grip. She was rewarded with a strong grip from him. She held back her wince though, thanks in part to her training. Never show emotion off camera. You don’t get paid for that. Her mother had drilled that and several points other points of life into her.

  “Just Trace,” he said, and turned to survey the damage to the door.

  “I assume that you’ve come to terms with Jay on payment?” Madison knew she wasn’t going to scare this one away. At least not today. She’d concede for now.

  “Not yet, but I’ll warn you, I’m not cheap,” he said and raised a brow. “Think you can afford it?”

  Madison looked around at the expensive furniture, art collection and rugs. She shrugged, “Maybe,” and headed towards the door. “Think you can afford to replace my door?”

  “Maybe.” She swore he smirked.

  “Well I hope so, because you’re on the payroll now. Or at least for as long as it takes to replace my door.” Without a backward glance, she left the room.

  Silence hung in the air. Jay studied his fingernails, then a loose thread on his jacket.

  Trace paced. The woman made him grind his teeth. She was haughty and insulting.

  And sexy as hell.

  It had been a long time since a woman had sparked his attention at first sight. Frankly he couldn’t recall the last time and certainly not the spark that happened in his pants.

  She was damn gorgeous. Red hair was turn on number one. He wondered if it was natural and almost smiled at the thought of investigating that. She had lovely skin too. Odd that someone who had such a nice pool wasn’t more tan. It didn’t matter though. He enjoyed the contrast of his sun darkened skin sliding against an ivory body in the heat of passion.

  Trace took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could still smell her perfume. He envisioned her fuller figure standing there challenging him, hands on rounded hips. And he swore her eyes flashed green fire at him.

  “Trace?”

  Trace shook his head trying to clear out very unprofessional thoughts and looked at Jay. “Sorry. What?”

  “I asked if you were ready to discuss salary,” Jay said and cleared his throat.

  “Yeah. I’m ready.”

  Jay motioned back towards his office, stepping past the broken door. Trace followed Jay, taking a moment to look down the hall where she had just walked. He knew mixing with Hollywoodites was a mistake.

  He also knew that he would protect her with his very life.

  Madison waited until she shut her bedroom door behind her before releasing a deep breath. She put a hand over her racing heart.

  She had been bored with rehearsing her lines and Ethan had been enjoying the kissing scene too much. She’d been ready for a break when her new employee broke through her door. Literally.

  Though having Ethan put in his place by the tall stranger had been satisfying, she was annoyed when she found out who he was.

  Was she such an invalid that she couldn’t take care of herself? Who really could hurt her with the number of people that always surrounded her? So many sometimes that she wanted to scream.

  Now, here was yet another person. One incredibly gorgeous person. Even now, her heart hammered thinking of him. Dark hair clipped short, full lips surrounded by a sexy goatee and a strong jaw line that sported a thin scar curving up towards his left eye stopping just an inch short.

  His body was clad in all black and she could feel heat radiate from him. A thick waist and thicker thighs brought a rush of heat between her own thighs. And lord was he tall. He had to be well over six feet tall. She could almost imagine being lifted up by those strong arms to wrap her legs around his waist while going for the ride of a life time.

  “Miss Jordan?”

  Madison blushed deeply having been caught in such erotic thoughts. She sat at her vanity and began running a brush through her hair.

  “Yes Carol, what is it?”

  Carol carried in a small silver tray with a bottle of water and small cup of pills on top. “Your vitamins,” she said and held out the tray.

  “Thanks,” Madison said and chased the foul tasting pills down with the cold liquid. She sat the bottle down and watched Carol tidy up her bedroom.

  “It appears we have a new member of the household, at least for a short while,” Madison commented. She was fishing for information and hoped Carol would bite.

  “You mean the biker? He’s going to stay with us?” She asked surprised.

  Biker? So there was more than one ride to this man. Her face flamed again.
/>   “Jay hired him.”

  “For what? To break down doors or stand around and look good?” Carol said with a wrinkled nose then she gave Madison an uncharacteristic saucy wink.

  “Carol!” Madison said in a slightly normal than loud voice while covering a smile. “You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

  Carol hugged Madison and chuckled. “With age comes wisdom, my dear.”

  “Jay still thinks my life is in danger.”

  “Then you should listen to his advice. I’m not completely convinced he’s wrong.”

  Madison sighed and flopped across her bed. “I used to be happy. Blissful even.”

  “You were alone then too,” Carol commented.

  “True, but it was then I truly enjoyed my job.” Of course, how could you call being one of the most sought after actresses a job? It was a lifestyle. Not one that she particularly enjoyed but it was the price she paid for success.

  They both turned to the sound of a door being opened and closed. Moments later, the door next to her vanity opened producing the lean, luscious body of her newest employee.

  “Do you ever knock?” Madison asked, startled when he just walked in then muttered under her breath, “I guess I should be glad you didn’t break the door down.”

  “Sorry. Just making sure I’m settling in the right room,” he stated almost triumphantly.

  Carol murmured something about checking on lunch and slipped quietly out of the room.

  “The right room for what?”

  “To stay in while I’m here,” he answered with a slight shrug.

  “Oh no you don’t. I keep an empty room next to me for a purpose. It’s called privacy. Need the definition?”

  “Guarding your body. It’s called doing my job. Need clarification?”

  She bit her lip at his choice of words and warmed at the surge of flames that tickled her whole body, heating up all the right places. As much as she wanted him to check out those right places there was one place that she was going to make clear and that was where his was.

  She watched while Trace wandered around her bedroom. He checked the window’s lock, her closet and private bathroom.