My Fiancé’s Bodyguard by Ivy Wild

I pacedin front of the gun safe that held a specific burner phone deep beneath its false floor. It had stayed there, completely silent, for the better part of two weeks. But I’d just gotten off another phone call with Johnny, and he told me that we were heading back to the Dimes’ Estate tomorrow.

I wanted to give Madelyn a heads up. At least, that’s what I told myself. I hadn’t spoken to her since the first phone call we’d made between these two phones. A very large part of me wanted to check in on her, but I knew calling her too much was risky.

More than anything, though, I was surprised that she hadn’t tried to call me. I hated the fact that I checked the damn device every evening before heading to bed or out for a job. For some reason, it made me feel weak. This entire situation made me feel weak, for that matter. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how utterly idiotic the idea was.

I was putting not only my safety, but her safety, on the line. If the Maldonado’s or her father ever found out about our deal, it wouldn’t be pretty. And me, Max Holt, former Ranger, was putting my trust in a princess who knew very little of the world. It was certifiably insane.

But even still, I wanted to believe that she would pull it off. What choice did I have, anyways? If what Madelyn said was true, then there was a large possibility that Dimes was in on Billy’s murder. And if that were true, I had a feeling Dimes was going to be less careful about the evidence than Johnny.

Johnny had been doing this since the day he was born. Considering what I'd pieced together from the wire transfer information, he was more of an expert than I'd given him credit for. The Maldonado’s went way back. They ruled this town with a quiet power unlike anything I’d ever seen. People watch movies like The Departed on TV and think, “There’s no way that stuff is going on nowadays.” And they’d be half right. Johnny wasn’t stupid enough to get himself killed. But, that didn’t mean his power wasn’t felt all over the city.

I walked over to my front door, opening it and sweeping the hallway for listening devices, whether human or otherwise. Seeing nothing, I continued inside, locking myself into my apartment and doing a second sweep inside as well as peering out the windows to ensure there were no cars I didn’t recognize. I liked the big windows in my apartment. It made listening vans easier to spot.

Seeing nothing, I retrieved the device from its tomb and powered it on. There was nothing waiting for me. It made me slightly anxious. In two weeks’ time was the girl unable to find anything that might help us?

Pushing aside the doubt, I walked into the bathroom, and turned on the shower and the sink faucet. My sweep was clean but I believed there was no such thing as being too careful. The noise from the shower and faucet would help distort anyone on the off chance I missed something. I dialed the number I knew by heart and waited for her answer.

“Hello?” her timid voice came from the other side.

“You alone?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she responded, still quietly.

“Double check and then lock yourself into the bathroom and turn on your shower,” I instructed her. I trusted her a lot less than I trusted myself in terms of spotting listeners.

“Um.” I could hear the hesitation in her voice.

“Just do it. It muffles the sound,” I said.

“Oh!” she replied, finally catching on to my reasoning. I waited for several minutes as she made her rounds before I finally heard the spray of the shower and the click of her bathroom door.

“Hi,” she said, a bit out of breath.

I grit my teeth, not sure how to respond. I could hear it in her voice that she was looking for something more from me. I hated not being able to give it to her.

“Do you have a status report?” I asked, my tone sharp.

“Not really,” she said, sounding deflated. “Father’s only just had his hired guard stop standing night guard over the outside of my bedroom door. To make matters worse, my sister and her husband have moved into the house.”

My eyes widened. “You mean Mark Stagg is living in your house?”

“Yeah. And he hangs off my father’s shadow like a puppy. They’re constantly in conference together.”

I thought on that for a bit. “No chance at trying to overhear what they’re saying?”

She sighed. “No. I tried but the doors are thick. The sound doesn’t travel through them.”

“I think I have a solution,” I replied, making a mental note to bring her a listening device she could plant in her father’s office. “I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” she gasped in surprise. “How?”

“Johnny and I will be at your place tomorrow, sometime in the afternoon. You said the guy stopped trailing you. You think you could try and get anything worthwhile before I get there? I’m not sure how long you’ll be able to keep Johnny at bay.”

Madelyn’s fear was practically audible through the phone. “I—I,” she stumbled over her words. “I could try.”

“Just try. The first time is always scary,” I said.

She was quiet for a beat before she said, “Okay.”

“See you tomorrow,” I said before hanging up the phone quickly. I knew if I stayed on any longer, I’d get myself into serious trouble.

The phone clickedoff before I even had the chance to say goodbye. I wanted to chuck it against the wall, but I did what Max told me to do and dutifully erased the call history. I exited the bathroom and made my way to my bed. I pulled back the top sheet and mattress pad and tucked the thing back into its hiding spot, which was a deep slit I cut into the side of my memory foam mattress that pressed against the headboard.

Finally, I allowed myself a pity party. I flipped myself over and stared at the ceiling fan above me. No one told me that sleeping with a man was going to make him so goddamn infuriating. Would it kill him to show me a little kindness? But instead, he had to be one thousand percent business over the phone. I didn’t understand how one minute someone could be sharing their most intimate secrets with you and in another, they acted like they barely knew you.

I looked over at my alarm clock. It was nearing one in the morning, and the house was silent. I tried to take deep breaths and think about what Max had said. He and Johnny were coming tomorrow. He was right. I had a very limited amount of time to keeping Johnny at bay. Whether he pushed or my father pushed, at some point, I was going to be forced into marrying him.

The goal was to see him in prison before that happened.

Rolling off my bed with new determination, I inched my way to my bedroom door. The journey to my father’s office was slow and careful. For the most part, it seemed as if my father had finally bought the “reformed me” act. The security guard had stopped coming to my room the last few days, which was a good sign.

I finally made it to the heavy oak doors of my father’s office. The entire area was pitch black and if weren’t for the fact that I knew my way around so well, I surely would have fallen. I pushed one door open just a crack and breathed a sigh of relief to find that it wasn’t locked.

I’d never wondered whether my father’s office doors were locked, because I’d never had the desire or the need to go into this space. For the most part, I always tried to steer clear of him and his business dealings. Tonight was another first for me.

I slipped inside as quietly as possible and closed the door silently behind me. I didn’t even know where to begin looking. For that matter, I didn’t even know what I was looking for. His grand oak desk was sitting proudly in front of me. It took up almost an entire quarter of the oversized office, and I made my way around to the back of it.

A sleek computer sat atop the desk but there were no papers out. Large filing cabinet drawers were on either side of the desk, and I thought that might be the place to start. Sitting down quietly on the floor, I tugged gently on the bottom drawer and it opened without a sound.

I thumbed through the manila folders, trying my best to read the labels, thankful for the bit of light that was filtering through the windows behind me. The name “Maldonado Bakery” caught my eye and I pulled the folder out of its place in the drawer as carefully as possible. I laid it open on the floor and tried to make sense of the documents that were inside.

There were invoices dating back years for what looked to be various shipments. I knew our family heritage was originally built on a flour factory, and I figured that maybe there was some sort of arrangement between the two companies for that? But, at the same time, I had no idea what may or may not be useful to Max.

Footsteps landing just outside the door had my heart pounding against my chest. I pushed the drawer back in quickly and looked around the room frantically. The door to the office began to open and I ducked under my father’s desk, taking the file with me. I tucked myself as far against the corner of the privacy panel as possible, praying that whoever was entering the room would leave just as quickly.

The footsteps made their way closer and closer and I could tell from their pattern that they were my father's. He stood at the desk, mere inches from where I was hiding and cleared his throat. I heard him pick up the receiver to the phone on his desk and press a few buttons.

“What’s your capacity for a new delivery route?” my father asked into the phone authoritatively. “I don’t have the specifics, but before I make an offer, I want to make sure I can back it up.”

I couldn’t understand what the person on the other end of the line was saying, but I was more worried about being discovered at the moment. If I was found in my father’s office in the middle of the night holding the file I was holding . . . I wasn’t sure how I would explain myself.

“It’s Johnny. I’m sure the stuff is good,” my father said and I furrowed my brow. What stuff could he possibly be talking about?

“You’re sure?” my father asked into the phone. “Because I don’t want to tell Maldonado we can take on the new route only to find out that you’re full of shit.”

My eyebrows shot up. I’d never heard my father talk like that to any of his business contacts. My heart continued to beat in my chest as I thought about the implications of what was going on. I just hoped Max would be able to make more sense of it than me.

“Good,” my father said, before hanging up the phone. I sucked in a breath and stayed as still as possible. He sat down at his desk and his knees brushed far too close to me. He paused for a moment and I thought for sure that I’d been discovered.

I’d never felt so sick to my stomach in my entire life. But, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t yell my name or any of that. Instead, he pulled out the top drawer and retrieved something before closing it. His body receded and I heard him crack open the window before I heard the flick of a lighter. The faint smell of cigarette smoke began to make its way into the office, and I sat stunned as I realized my father was lighting up.

On his worst of days he still wore a three-piece suit. I was completely unaware that he had a smoking habit. I suppose it should have humanized him to me, but it was hard to see the blood that beat beneath stone through just one crack.

He stayed there for a full ten minutes, smoking in silence in the moonlight as I continued to hide in the shadows of his desk. Finally, he doused the cigarette, returned the lighter to the top drawer, and made his way out of the office, closing the door behind him.

I sucked in deep gulps of air as I tried to regain my composure. I waited a full five minutes before I dared venture out from under the desk. I was too nervous about him coming back. As I stood, my legs shook and if I hadn’t had a death grip on the folder, I was fairly certain I would have spilled the pages everywhere.

The office was dark and the moon was hidden behind a cloud. I pressed my ear against the door and hearing nothing, I slipped out of the room and made my way as quickly as possible back to my bedroom, the folder tucked snuggly under my arm.