Bodyguard by Melanie Shawn

48

Savannah

The outer dooropened and the guys stepped through. I breathed a sigh of relief.

It wasn't that I genuinely thought anything was going to happen to them. Not on a surveillance mission.

And it wasn't that I genuinely thought anything was going to happen to me. Not in Bear's impenetrable safe house.

It was just that I didn't feel safe without Gage in my vicinity. If I couldn't feel his presence, I was on edge.

This wasn't something new. It wasn't a phenomenon that had developed since the night I escaped what I thought was an assassination attempt. It had been true since I was sixteen and the Marshals took us away. Hell, it had been true since I was fourteen and the two of us had met, if I were being honest.

When we weren't together, I wasn't settled. Point blank. Period.

"How did it go?"

Gage grimaced. "Same."

I turned to Bear. "Okay. Since you are a man of not quite as few words, can I get the download from you?"

Bear smirked. "Well, he just played video games again all night. There wasn't even a visit from his weed dealer to break it up."

"So where does that leave us?"

"We're either going to grab him in his place, or we're going to get him to come out." Gage’s words were not a huge surprise. We had gone over those options a couple of times.

To be frank, they were both shitty fucking options.

I breathed in deeply. I knew that I might not have been seeing the situation as clearly as they were, seeing all of the nuances and angles, but I did know one thing. And I decided to voice it. "Well, grabbing him from inside his place is not an option, "I said flatly. I'm not going to have you putting yourself in that kind of danger. Not for me." I swallowed hard. "Not even for my father. It's just way too risky."

I expected Gage to argue, but instead he nodded. "Yeah, I had pretty much decided the same thing. That's the riskier option, and just because it's the simpler one doesn't make it better. Luring him out has risk involved, but it's a risk that only comes to the surface if this whole thing goes pear shaped. So, it's a chance of risk – but not actual risk. Grabbing him from inside his place involves a 100% chance of a very high level of risk. That just wouldn't be smart."

Bear’s smirk widened. "Now we just have to figure out what that gamer pothead cares enough about to venture outside the four walls of his smoke shack."

I laughed. I couldn't believe that was the part they thought was hard. "Yeah, I think I have that part covered," I said wryly.

Gage’s brows drew together, and he tilted his head to the side. I continued, "Unless he is celibate — and I mean voluntarily, not an incel — then I think that a beautiful woman showing interest will lure him out. Hell, I probably wouldn't even have to be beautiful. Just the prospect of getting his dick wet will be enough to get him off of that couch."

Gage’s and Bear’s eyebrows both shot up, making them look like they were part of some kind of choreographed face dance. I laughed. It felt nice to have something to laugh about, something genuinely funny. It was a good distraction.

The past few days — hell, the past few decades — had been pretty stressful. And, if we were going to put this plan into effect, the next few days to come were going to be equally stressful. It felt really good to have all of that stress punctuated by one short moment of levity.

Gage didn't look pleased at my laughter. Or maybe it was the idea of Barlowe's son leaving the apartment for the purpose of having sex with me that had such a massive scowl covering his face.

Either way, he clearly didn't like it.

"No," he growled.

I was taken aback at his flat refusal. He didn't even bother to say he was uncomfortable with the Idea, or express why he thought it wouldn't work. He just growled the word no at me like it was a command, like the fact that he said it was no, meant that it was no. Like he was God, and his word was the eleventh commandment.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I said no," he responded, his eyes growing even more steely.

Irritation bubbled up in my gut. I knew that I had said I would trust him. And I did trust him. But this didn't feel like an operational decision. This didn't feel like he was refusing based on it being a bad idea, or too risky. It felt personal.

Bear tilted his head to the side, his expression far more open. Clearly, he was not writing off the idea. "How would you get in contact with him?" he asked.

Good. At least someone wanted a little more information. And, since I had actually thought it through, I was excited to share.

"Well, since it doesn't seem like he goes on dating apps or even social media, I think the only way is through the video game."

Gage and Bear both stared at me like I was from another planet. Man, they really had been ensconced in their insular worlds. No wonder they had needed Crypt even for the simple task of letting them know whether or not Barlowe's kid was on social media — which he wasn't.

At the time, I had wondered if they had had Crypt looking for something deep, something hidden, in the social media sites. Now, I thought that they were probably just looking for public profiles, and I wondered if they even knew that a simple Google search would've given them that answer.

"Most video games — in fact, every popular video game I can think of, and almost certainly whatever game he is playing — have a chat feature. Many of them involve players grouping themselves into teams. They band together, like forming alliances. And while they are playing, they can chat through their headsets. Text or voice, I'm pretty sure."

Bear still looked interested. "Yeah, that makes perfect sense. But what if whatever game he's playing isn't one you know how to play? If you join his team and then you screw things up, he'll just be annoyed with you. It doesn't matter how hot you sound. Or how hot your avatar is."

I glanced at Gage. He was still scowling like he thought the only problem with his face was that his features hadn't been placed close enough to each other at birth and he was determined to rectify that.

I sighed and shook my head. Well, I would just direct my speech to Bear. At least he was interested. "I thought of that. And we do know someone who seems like he is probably pretty good at video games."

Bear grinned. "Crypt."

"Yeah. And with his skills, it probably won't be that difficult to figure out which game this kid is currently playing at any given time. I figure we can just create an account for me — Crypt might even be able to make it look aged, so that it's not suspicious — and then we can let him handle all the gameplay. He will know the social expectations within the community of the game. He'll know how to approach Mac. He'll know how to not make it weird.

"The only part that I will handle is the actual chatting. Crypt may know how to talk to players in the game. But I know how to talk to men. Every woman does," I hurried to add, noticing that Gage’s expression had grown even darker.

Hell, if it got any darker than it was now, it would be a virtual blackout.

Bear nodded. "Yeah. We're doing it."

Gage's head whipped around and he turned his iron scowl on Bear. "No, we fucking are not."

Bear glared right back at him. It was the angriest, heaviest look I'd ever seen on his amiable face. "Yes, we are," he said flatly. "It's the best plan. By fucking far. It's not even close. And the only reason you don't want to use it is because it makes Savannah the bait. I get why you would feel that way. But it's a feeling. And you promised me. You swore. That you wouldn't allow your feelings to put us in danger. So, get your shit together, and get on board. We are fucking doing this."

With that, Bear exited the living room, down the hallway that led to the living quarters.

Gage stared at me.

Shit.

So...apparently he and Bear had been talking. About me. About Gage's feelings for me.

I thought that maybe I should be...I wasn't sure. Embarrassed? Awkward? ...Something?

But I wasn't. If anything, it made me feel warm inside, and happy.

Bear's speech had told me something that Gage had yet to say to me—that he had feelings. Real feelings for me, that affected him, and his actions.

And, damn, knowing that felt freaking amazing.

I didn't let any of that show on my face, though. Somehow I knew that would be a terrible idea. Gage was clearly still furious, and I could sense that any sign of happiness—or, God forbid, self-satisfaction—from me would only make things ten times worse. In fact, that could potentially cause a huge eruption.

So, as he stared at me blankly, I just returned the stare. Past the point where it felt comfortable. Past the point where it felt reasonable. But I wasn't going to back down first.

Finally, he shrugged. The international symbol of 'I definitely still care a lot about this thing but I'd like to give the impression that I don't care at all.' And then, he said, "Fine. Fine, then," and walked off down the same corridor Bear had just gone down. The one that led to the bedrooms. The one that led to our bedroom.

Our bedroom.

God, I liked that phrase.

I didn't follow him, though. Instead, I went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottled water, then seated myself on the couch.

I wasn't doing anything specific. Just waiting. Just waiting for him to fall asleep.

For once, he was going to be the one lying in bed waiting for me.

I liked that. It made things feel more even.