Guarding Madison (Bodyguards, Inc.) Page 3

  “Are you suggesting that I am incompetent?” Her voice raised an octave. It sliced through the air like a razorblade.

  “No, Ma’am. Not at all, it’s just—“

  “Quiet! I want a report in my hands in five minutes.”

  Jay rushed off, leaving Trace confused. The look on Madison’s face made him angry. She looked like she was waiting for her turn at the guillotine. His gaze traveled down her body, noting how she shook inwardly while her nails dug into her palms over and over again.

  The woman had made her way to Madison before he could speak. She began to berate Madison about her hair, her appearance and lack of structure.

  “Ethan called and told me that you stopped rehearsal. You should be focusing on learning your lines but instead, you rudely throw him out,” she said bitterly.

  “I didn’t throw him out, Mother. I was ready for a break—“

  “Now why is that Madison? Was it feeding time again?”

  Trace had heard…

  “Enough.”

  His voice filled the room, startling everyone including the dog, which barked but remained hidden in the basket.

  Madison gave Trace a look that pleaded for his silence but he would have none of it. The woman at the center of the controversy turned around slowly and fixed her gaze on him.

  On a bad day, she might have made him ill at ease but this wasn’t one of those days.

  Trace stepped forward, around the plush couch to stand in front of Madison and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Ah, you must be the piece of meat Ethan told me about.”

  Trace didn’t say a word. He merely stared down at the offensive person before him. He took pride in having never hit a woman in his life but that record was sorely being tested.

  “Everyone out.” Trace’s command was answered immediately by people tripping over each other to leave the area. A hand tugged at his arm but he never broke his gaze from Madison’s mother.

  “Trace please. I can handle this.” Madison’s voice came across as soft and shaky, pleading.

  “Madison, go to your room and wait for me,” said the shrew.

  “She does not need to go to her room. But she will step outside the living room and shut the door behind her,” Trace said. There was no mistaking his authority.

  Madison dropped her hand from Trace’s arm and walked from the room, shutting the door behind her.

  “How dare you—“ she began but was cut off by Trace.

  “Let’s start with your name, or should I just refer to you as bitch?”

  Trace enjoyed the stunned look on her face along with the moment of silence. He didn’t let it show though. Years of training on holding back emotion came rushing back. He did step a few feet away though. He didn’t want to intimidate her too much. He hoped that she would perhaps lighten up.

  “You may call me Mrs. Jordan,” she began but Trace didn’t let her continue.

  “Mrs. Jordan. Fine. Let’s get a couple of things straight around here. If I’m right, your daughter is the breadwinner around here and you are merely the sponge.”

  “Sponge?”

  “Yes, sponge. You know, sponging off your daughter’s success. Sucking up her wealth and good will. Instead of insulting her, you should be on your knees thanking her for her generosity.” Each word had Trace taking another step towards the bitter maternal figure.

  “Well! I never—“

  “And you never will. Ever again.”

  “By what right do you have to speak to me this way,” she shrieked. Her voice was like nails down a chalkboard but Trace didn’t let it bother him.

  “You are Madison’s mother and by that right, you deserve some respect.”

  She huffed and shook her head in agreement.

  “But, your daughter deserves the same respect and by God you will show her respect or I will show you the door.” He crossed his arms and stood silent, staring down at the silent woman.

  Trace watched several emotions cross her face. He wondered if anyone had ever put her in her place before. After today’s events, he wondered if he would give her a place in the pool house or the dog house.

  “Maggie.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My name is Maggie.”

  “Nice to meet you Maggie. My name is Trace.”

  Maggie sat down heavily on the sofa and took a deep breath. Trace joined her. “Hard being mean isn’t it?” he asked. He was surprised by her laugh.

  “Hard being hard, Mr. Trace.”

  Trace half smiled. “Just Trace.” He thought he would never get past explaining to people to drop the mister part.

  “So why are you so hard, Maggie?”

  “Why else? To keep things in order around here.”

  Trace could still detect a harsh tone to her voice but after years of taking that tone, it would be hard to let it go.

  “You have a job, Maggie, and it’s not to keep things in order around here. That’s Jay’s job.”

  She looked at him surprised. “What is my job then if not to keep things running smoothly?”

  “Your job is to be a mother. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  Trace watched her bite the inside of her lip. Emotion ran deep in this cynical woman. He knew it and deep down, so did she.

  “Then I guess I don’t have a job. I’m not really much of a mother am I?”

  “Not from what I’ve seen.”

  “You don’t hold back, do you Trace?”

  “Why should I? You asked me a question and I gave you an answer.”

  “Fair enough,” she replied. She sounded tired and somewhat sad.

  “However,” he continued, “I don’t know you very well and there’s always room for improvement.”

  Maggie gave Trace a smile, one that he suspected had been missing for a very long time.

  “Improvement eh? That’ll take time.”

  “Well it’s not going to happen over night,” he remarked. “But that doesn’t mean it can’t happen.”

  Maggie reached out and patted Trace’s hand. “You’re sharp. I smell education. Why the odd job here?”

  “It’s not so odd but very lucrative,” he gave her a grin to which she cackled a laugh at.

  Trace heard a soft sound at the door and put his finger to his lips for Maggie to be silent. Stealthily, he made his way to the door and with a quick move, yanked it open.

  The staff almost fell inside the door and with red faces, mumbled apologies and rushed from the room once again.

  Maggie laughed louder than ever and stood. “I should go find Madison.”

  “I’ll take care of that. Why don’t you get with Carol and see if we can swing some pizza for dinner? The rabbit food just doesn’t cut it for me.”

  “Pizza? Hmmm, good idea,” she said and walked out past Trace heading for the kitchen.

  Trace ran his fingers through his hair and headed up the stairs to Madison’s room. He knocked once and called out to her, but no response. Knowing her need for privacy, he knocked again but there was still no reply. Instinct took over then and he opened the door. A quick glance around told him that she wasn’t in her room. He pushed away a tightening in his chest. She was fine, just upset. Still, that was enough to cause him concern. He didn’t like the thought of her upset or crying. It was then he noticed the French doors to the balcony were open. The curtains waved with the gentle breeze. A few short strides took him to the doorway where he peered out.

  Madison was stretched out on a padded iron chaise with sunglasses on. He thought she was sleeping so he took the opportunity to study her even further.

  She amazed him how strong she appeared both in the public eye and in her films. She never portrayed a fragile woman. Ironic how completely opposite she was from the characters she played. Still, he knew there was a great inner strength that kept her going. He hoped some day to find out what gave her that strength.

  “Is she gone?”

  Trace had to smile. She fooled him. Not so ea
sy a feat to do. He took a seat opposite of her and stretched out his long, jean covered legs frowning at the fray on the hem. “No, Maggie is checking with Carol on dinner.”

  Madison lifted the designer shades to rest on her head and raised a single brow. “Maggie?”

  “That’s her name isn’t it?”

  “Who told you that?”

  “She did. Isn’t it?”

  Madison tilted her head in surprise. “Yes, that’s her name,” she finally answered and slid her shades back into place.

  “You’re surprised?” Trace asked without missing a beat.

  “Perhaps,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. She picked up the book that was by her side and thumbed through it.

  “Perhaps my ass,” he said with a snort.

  Madison smiled. It had been so long since she had talked to anyone other than her house staff. The entourage that accompanied her to rehearsals and filming never really spoke to her. She thought that had everything to do with her mother.

  But something about Trace was different. He was raw and unrefined and oh so sexy. He oozed masculinity and probably knew it, though deep inside she knew he wouldn’t really strut around like he was the cat’s meow.

  Still, he had to have some idea of how women react around him, how good looking he was. Madison sighed and set her book aside. Enough daydreaming. She would have to face her mother sooner or later. She started to dig her nails into her palms again but forced herself to stop. The sooner she did, the faster she could escape back to her secret stash and soften the blows with a kiss.

  But what type of kiss? A chocolate one or from Trace?

  “Madison?”

  Madison gazed over and was startled by her mother. She scrambled awkwardly up from the chair and stood at attention, head tilted down.

  “At ease, solider,” Maggie said with a laugh.

  Madison bit her lower lip and tempted a glance up at her mother. She was surprised to find a half smile on her lightly withered face.

  “Trace, would you give us some privacy?” Maggie asked.

  “Sure, as far as the bedroom allows,” he said and wandered inside the French doors leaving the two alone.

  “Boy he’s bossy,” Maggie muttered and took a seat. She motioned for Madison to join her.

  Madison sat down tentatively and waited for her mother to snap out of this odd hallucination. Her nails began that familiar path on her palms. Surely this wasn’t the woman who gave birth to her; the women who constantly reminded her that she was too heavy or not pretty enough and was damn lucky to have some type of talent to survive in the world today.

  “How was your trip?” Madison’s voice came out soft and weak. She cleared her throat and forced her chin up to look at her mother directly.

  “Fine, fine. A bit humid though. I was ready to come home.”

  Madison began to dig her nails deeper into her palms. She was startled by her mother’s hands covering hers. Afraid to see anger in her mother’s eyes, she quickly lowered her head and kept her hands still.

  “Madison, please look at me.”

  Tears gathered in her eyes before she raised her head to meet the stoic gaze of her mother. She fully expected the rage to begin lashing at her weakness and open display of emotion. Instead what Madison saw surprised her.

  A sad look filled her mother’s eyes. Creases of age crept silently across her face and reminded Madison that her mother was no spring chicken, having had Madison late in her life. Madison suspected that her mother hated her for making her become a mother, not before her time but at all.

  Madison guessed that’s why she worked so hard to be a success and provide her mother with all the things she missed out on because she had Madison. It hurt to think she was trying to buy her mother’s love but that’s exactly what she had been doing all her life.

  Maggie reached up and brushed Madison’s hair aside, tucking it behind her ear. Wrinkled hands cupped Madison’s cheeks gently before dropping back down to hold her daughter’s hands with care.

  “I’ve not exactly been the model mother of late,” Maggie began. She chuckled. “Hell, all your life.”

  “I’m sorry, Mother. I’ll try harder—“ Madison began but was cut off by her mother.

  “You aren’t the one that needs to try. You’ve gone above and beyond, Madison. It’s high time that your mother stepped up to the plate.”

  Madison remained silent. She had dreamed of connecting with her mother her whole life. Now that moment was here and it paralyzed Madison. Her arms ached to comfort the older woman but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She wanted to tell her mother that it was ok but the words wouldn’t come out. It dawned on her then why and shame washed over her.

  For years, her mother had terrified everyone around her, including her own daughter. Madison wasn’t ready to forgive her just yet but she still loved her. No matter what.

  “I know that it’s going to take some time, Madison. Time for your wounds to heal and for our relationship to mend. I hope that you’ll grant me that time. But I understand if you don’t. I certainly don’t deserve it.” This time, it was Maggie that lowered her head.

  Madison bit at her lower lip again to keep it from trembling. She took several deep breaths and gripped her mother’s hand tightly. Maggie looked up and Madison read shame in her mother’s eyes. Maybe, just maybe they had a chance after all.

  “We have all the time in the world, Mother,” Madison said and gave her a slight smile.

  Maggie returned it with a shuddering breath. She nodded to Madison in thanks and rose. “I’ll go see where that pizza is.”

  Pizza?

  On impulse, Maggie leaned down and gave Madison a quick peck on her forehead then turned to leave.

  “Mother?” Madison called out before she walked away.

  Maggie turned around to Madison. “Yes?”

  “You’re right,” she began and gave her mother an uncustomary grin. “He is bossy.”

  Maggie winked at her daughter and disappeared inside the French doors.

  Madison followed her and leaned against the door jam studying Trace who had taken up residence in her reading chair near the bathroom with his eyes shut. “Well, you are.”

  She was rewarded with a grunt and knew he heard everything. She wasn’t embarrassed though. He was instrumental in getting her mother off the high horse she had been riding for years though she had no clue how he did it.

  “Ready for dinner?” he asked, and stood, stretching like an exotic, wild cat.

  “I can’t believe you got her to allow pizza in the house,” Madison commented and followed Trace out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

  “What are you talking about? A pizza covers all the major food groups on one delicious pie.”

  They ran into the staff huddled around the dining room door, strangely silent.

  Madison tapped Jay on the shoulder. “What, you all act like you’ve never seen a pizza in the house before.” She laughed and elbowed him aside so she could get to the table then saw the reason for the silence and unsuccessfully covered her gasp.

  The pizza boxes sat in the middle of the table stacked one on top of the other. A picture of Madison was lying on top of the pizza stack with a knife stuck through the middle of the picture. A red liquid oozed onto the picture from the wicked looking blade.

  Madison didn’t recognize her own voice as it cried out a now familiar name.

  “Trace!”

  Chapter 4

  From the stairway, Madison watched Trace thank the police officer and lock the door behind him. She hadn’t given much thought to the so-called stalker or as Jay put it, killer that was after her. Why should she? Now she had never been so scared before in her life.

  Detectives crawled all over her home while the staff and her mother had been questioned for hours before being allowed to retire to their rooms. Maggie had wanted to stay with her but Madison insisted she get some rest. Trace would be with her if she needed anything, so she wou
ldn’t be alone. That itself wasn’t much of a stretch though.

  Madison was never alone, except in her bedroom of course which she insisted on. That was the only time she had to herself without someone fussing over her hair or make-up or wardrobe. Her mother had preached to them constantly not to let her out in public without looking like the millions of dollars she was worth. Maybe that’s what this person wanted. Money. It was, after all the root of all evil.

  Madison flashed back to seeing the knife impaled through her photo. It was a recent one too, from a photo session for her last film that came out six months ago. It had been number one at the box office for five weeks and her best performance yet according to the critics.

  Now the buzz was all about the current movie she was filming, The Circle of Friends End. Edgy. Moving. Surreal. Those had been the early quotes from the bigger critics. If only they knew. To Madison, it was more like life imitating art.

  She had been so sure that the death of Amy Newton and Sherry Waters had been accidents. Car crashes were common enough weren’t they? Her mind had to stretch about the electrocution but still, it wasn’t the first time something like that had happened. She wasn’t so sure now, and neither was Trace.

  Seeing the knife had brought out the true guard in him, proving to Madison that he was indeed the right man for the job. Trace had taken Madison by the hand and led her to the corner of the room and placed himself in front of her then pulled out a cell phone she hadn’t known he had and dialed 911. Within minutes, the cavalry arrived. Trace had been silent but strong until he was certain Madison was safe and had never taken his hand off his gun.

  The shock was beginning to wear off now, leaving only confusion and fear behind. Trace’s hand on her arm startled Madison, drawing her back into the present.

  “Come on, I’m taking you to bed.”

  Madison blinked at his words, but was too numb to protest. She rose and slipped her hand in his. She reveled in his warmth and strength and followed him up the stairs.

  She watched as he checked her room once again then stood at her door and crossed his arms.

  “I need to change,” she said and picked up her cotton night shirt from the bed.