Because of You

  “That may have been fine in the past, but sticking with the same routine is what gets people killed,” Brady states as he walks closer to Finn, getting in his face.

  “Are you trying to tell me I don’t know how to do my job?” Finn asks him heatedly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides with barely concealed rage.

  Brady casually crosses his arms in front of his chest and uses the two inches he has on Finn to stare down at him, subtly trying to tell him that he could probably kick his ass without even blinking.

  “I’m trying to tell you that your relationship with Layla might be clouding your judgment when it comes to protecting her.”

  The way Brady spits out relationship proves that he’s done his research, at least as far as the tabloids go. For years they’ve hinted at an affair between Finn and I. Of course Eve made it known that we shouldn’t disparage those rumors. Any press is good press and all that bullshit.

  “You’re a real piece of work, you know that!” Finn shouts.

  I grab onto his arm and pull him back towards me. I’ve never seen him so worked up like this. His body is practically vibrating with fury. I don’t want anyone to get hurt, even if I do think the ex-Navy SEAL standing in front of us could use a good punch in the face right about now to wipe that smug look off of it.

  “Alright, that’s enough. Both of you. If you guys are through with your pissing contest, I’d like to get started on my run.”

  I let my eyes shift back and forth between them, putting my hands on my hips to let them know I'm not in the mood for their nonsense. I understand that Finn feels like an outsider is poaching on his territory and trying to tell him how to do his job, but he needs to cool down. For all we know, Brady is going to run to the tabloids himself and let them know Finn has anger management issues.

  “Finn, why don’t you head back to the cabin and make sure the guys installing the new alarm system don’t screw everything up,” I suggest to him softly.

  I don’t want to push Finn away, but he needs to take a step back for a minute. The longer he stays here, the worse it’s going to get between him and Brady. I can already tell Brady isn’t the type of person to listen to orders from anyone. There’s no way he’s going to be the first one to leave. Plus, it will give me a chance to find out what the hell he’s really doing here.

  Finn whips his head around to stare at me, his eyes wide with hurt and disbelief.

  “So it’s going to be like that, huh?” he asks me angrily. “Fine. You two have a great run.”

  Before I can say anything to convince him that I’m not doing this to purposefully hurt him, he’s already stalked off and disappeared around the bend.

  Brady chuckles and I turn to face him.

  “Oh, that’s nice. It’s good you can see the humor in a situation that isn’t funny at all,” I angrily tell him.

  “Sweetheart, that guy is one argument away from blowing someone’s head off with his side arm. Sue me if I think it’s a riot that you’ve put all your trust in someone like that and think I’m the bad guy.”

  Until now, I haven’t seen or spoken to Brady since right before the concert when I handed him the list he asked for of people who might have it out for me. And actually, I didn’t speak to him then either. I was still too keyed up from the fight with Eve to do much more than shove the list in his hands and walk away to warm up.

  “Here, the list you requested.” I walked up to him right outside my dressing room and smacked the piece of paper into his chest so he had to quickly grab onto it before it fell to the ground.

  I ignored the fact that touching his chest felt like touching a brick wall—a very muscular, firm brick wall that radiated heat.

  I crossed my arms in front of me as he perused the list, raising one eyebrow at me when he was finished.

  “There’s only three names on here.”

  The disbelief and confusion in his voice immediately put me on edge.

  “Contrary to what you might think, I’m not hated the world over. Most people actually like me.”

  He looked like he wanted to say something else, but I cut him off before he could laugh at me or make another snide comment about what he thinks of me.

  “I have to get ready. The exit is down the hall to the left. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out,” I lob at him sarcastically before turning around, walking into my dressing room, and slamming the door behind me.

  The list I gave him only contained a few names: another singer or two who had made a few silly threats to me in the tabloids because I got invited to events they didn’t and an interviewer from a magazine who liked to constantly make remarks about how the world would be a better place if I wasn’t singing in it. And she was just bitter because she used to work for me, and Finn caught her skimming money from the top.

  It’s not that I think Brady’s the bad guy. Not really. I just don’t know him or trust him. I trust Finn with everything and I just sent him away. This guy comes in here like he’s hot shit and looks at me like I’m dirt on his shoe. How the hell am I supposed to react to him?

  Brady stares at me for a few minutes and when I don’t respond to his statement about him being the bad guy, he shrugs it off like he never expected me to disagree. Without saying another word to me, he turns around and takes off jogging on the trail leaving me standing there staring after him.

  “You better move your ass if you want to get all five miles in before this trail gets packed with tourists,” he shouts over his shoulder as he disappears around the first bend.

  I stand there just long enough to curse his name in my head, then take off running faster than I normally start off so I can catch up to him. Out of spite, and because I’m pissed that my morning routine is thrown off by his presence, I speed past him until I’m a few legs in front of him and slow down so I don’t get winded too early.

  I can hear his feet pounding on the trail right behind me, and before I can get too cocky about being in front of him, he actually has the nerve to come up on my right and go around me.

  “Passing on the right,” he says jovially, continuing the fast pace I’m not used to.

  My eyes immediately zero in on his ass in those stupid shorts as I watch him pumping his legs to go even faster. The thin material is molded to it, and it’s almost impossible to turn my eyes away, but I do so I can once again leave that ass behind in the dust.

  Pushing my legs as hard as I can, I make up the distance between us.

  “Passing on the left.”

  Two can play at this game.

  I stay in front of him just long enough to wonder if he’s looking at my ass. I’m wearing a pair of tight pink, lightweight running shorts, and even though I’m pretty confident in how great my butt and legs look in them, I don’t want him staring.

  Regrettably, I slow my pace until he makes it back up to me and we’re jogging side-by-side at a more normal speed.

  “I thought for sure you were going to keep that shit up for the entire five miles,” he says with a laugh. I notice he’s not even breathing hard, and I immediately want to stick my leg out and trip him.

  “Figured I should slow it down for you. A man of your age could have a heart attack at any moment, and I’m not really up-to-date on my first aid training.”

  We jog in silence for a few minutes, the sounds of nature filling the air and making me momentarily forget that my best friend conspired with the enemy.

  “You know, I didn’t mean to make things strained between you and your body guard,” Brady says, reading my mind. “I asked your mother to give me a print-out of your normal routine when you’re home. I thought I would case the place ahead of time and make sure there weren’t any threats in the area. It took me a little longer than I expected, which is why I was still here when you guys showed up.”

  I don’t reply right away, taking some time to process what he's just told me. He had checked things out before I got here to make sure I’d be safe. It's a sweet thing to do, and
I want to tell him I appreciated it, but I can’t. I’m a job to him. That’s it. He’s not doing anything out of the kindness of his heart. He’s doing what he was told and what he’s being paid to do.

  “So, tell me about your mother.”

  My steps falter a little as I turn my head in his direction. He doesn’t look my way, just continues to stare straight ahead at the trail in front of us. I pull my gaze away from his profile and grit my teeth.

  “I’m sure you already know everything there is about Eve. Just like you already know everything about me. You probably had a team of people digging into our lives weeks before you even showed up in the conference room the other day.”

  He doesn’t reply and I know I’m right. Being right about something like that doesn’t make me feel victorious; it just makes me feel sad. Yet another person to add to the list of those who think they know everything about me.

  “I know what the public knows. That she was a secretary for Hummingbird Records, met your father, fell in love, and had you. When your father died, she went through with his life-long dream of making you a star, showing off the talents he recognized in you from an early age,” Brady states easily, like he's reading the information from a children’s fairytale book.

  I can’t hide the unattractive snort that comes out when he lists my mother’s bio—the one she’s painstakingly fabricated and has spread through the media over the years.

  “Eve Carlysle: the perfect wife, the perfect mother, and the perfect business owner.”

  I can’t hide the contempt in my voice, and I mentally scold myself. Brady Marshall may seem like an okay guy when he isn’t acting like a pompous jerk, but I don’t know the first thing about him. Finn is the only person I have ever confided in about what my mother is really like or what she’s done to me, and I’m not about to change that now. Brady is a military man, just like Finn, but that’s where the similarities end. Just after a few days, I can already tell that Brady is all about the job. He’s focused and single-minded, and he will listen to the orders that have been given to him. God only knows what Eve must have said to him about me. I trust Finn with my life, my secrets, and my heart. I know he would never betray me and go back to my mother and tell her anything that I've said in confidence. I don’t know the first thing about Brady. For all I know he lives alone in a hovel sharpening his knives and cleaning his guns until someone hires him for another job.

  “Care to elaborate?” Brady asks.

  “Nope.”

  If he thinks I’m just going to spill my guts to him after only knowing him for a few days, he’s insane.

  “You know, I was hired to help you. I can’t do that if you aren’t honest with me.”

  Another laugh escapes my lips before I can catch it.

  “I’m sorry, but I didn’t hire you. If there’s something you need to know, ask Eve.”

  I realize suddenly that he’s no longer running beside me, and I stop and turn to find him standing in the middle of the trail with his hands on his hips.

  “I did ask Eve. I got the whole run down about you and her and how you’ve let fame get to your head and you’ll probably be difficult to work with. You’re definitely a pain in my ass, but I know for a fact you are nothing like she portrays you. And I’m guessing if I asked her why she felt the need to belittle you and make you feel like you were nothing in the middle of your sound check the other day, she wouldn’t be honest with me.”

  My jaw drops and even though we’ve run roughly two miles and my heart is beating fast, it’s about ready to jump out of my chest when I realize he was in the arena when Eve had gone postal on me about changing the set list.

  “You heard that?” I whisper as he takes a few steps towards me, closing the distance.

  “Every word,” he replies softly, bringing his hand up and brushing a few stray pieces of hair out of my face to look me in the eyes. The skin of my forehead where his fingers graze me feels warm, and I hold back a shiver even though it’s seventy degrees this morning and I’m sweating from the run. “I also watched your performance. It was good...if you like that sort of music. The crowd loves you and it’s easy to see that you were made to do something like that. But you aren’t enjoying one single second of your time up on that stage and I want to know why. Why the hell do you do it if you hate it?”

  He’s so close to me that our feet are almost touching. I can smell his soap and a small hint of sweaty man, and it makes me want to slide my hands under the T-shirt that clings to his chest from sweat. My fingers tingle with the need to glide up the front of him so I can feel the definition of his abs under my palms. I shake the thoughts from my mind and take a step back from him. His close proximity is doing crazy things to me, things I don’t understand or have time for. The only thing I can think about right now is that he actually stayed to watch the concert even when I was a total bitch to him out in the hallway beforehand. He had stayed and saw a piece of the real me, even though I’ve done everything I can to keep her hidden.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I love what I do,” I reply in a monotone voice. There’s no conviction in what I tell him, and I can immediately see by the way he raises on eye brow and stares me down that he doesn’t believe me.

  “You’re lying. Why are you lying to me?” he asks angrily.

  “I don’t even KNOW you!” I shout back, trying to rein in my own anger.

  I shouldn’t be yelling at him. I know that. He’s just trying to help. But he needs to know that he has to leave this alone. This has nothing to do with some guy sending me notes. Whether I love what I do or not, it has no bearing on the job he was hired to do. Period. Just because I actually find myself wanting to tell him everything doesn’t mean I will. His good looks and his strong nature are messing with my mind, making me think that he could be one of the good ones. I’ve been burned too many times to just throw my trust out there for anyone.

  Brady starts to open his mouth, probably to say something cliché like, “You can trust me,” when the ringing of his cell phone breaks through the silence in the woods that surround us.

  Without taking his eyes off of me, he reaches into the back pocket of his shorts and answers the call without bothering to see who it is.

  “Brady.”

  He closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh. His face immediately relaxes and loses the look of anger that was all over it a moment before.

  “What’s up, Gwen?”

  A prickle of jealousy shoots through me when he says another woman’s name, and I immediately tamp it down.

  What the hell is that? What do I care if he gets a phone call from one or a thousand other women? I don’t know anything about this guy, remember?

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. Possibly.”

  I listen to his one-sided conversation, wondering what this Gwen person is calling him for when he’s supposedly in the middle of a job.

  Something she says causes his eyes to shoot to mine. I watch as they grow wide, and he turns away from me a little, cupping his hand over his mouth and the phone and lowering his voice when he replies.

  “No. Absolutely not. I am NOT asking her for an autograph. I’m on a job, Gwen.”

  I cover my mouth to try and stifle a laugh, but he whips his head around when he hears me.

  Rolling his eyes and sighing again, he uncovers his mouth and moves the phone away from it a so he can speak to me.

  “Sorry. My sister Gwen is a huge fan. She’s another giant pain in my ass. She wants to know if you would sign her CD case.”

  His sister? He has a sister? Why the hell does this make me happy knowing that Gwen isn’t just some slut who’s calling him at work?

  I smile, nodding my head at him. “That’s no problem. I’ll sign whatever she wants. You should invite her to the cabin one of these nights for dinner, and I can sign things for her then.”

  Halfway through my sentence, Brady starts shaking his head frantically, but it’s too late from the sound of things on his end.
Gwen must have heard me. Suddenly, he’s holding the phone a few inches away from his ear, and I can hear high-pitched screaming coming through the speaker.

  I laugh and he just gives me a look of annoyance, his lips pressing tightly together in a thin line and his eyes narrowing at me.

  After a few seconds, the screaming stops and he puts the phone back to his ear.

  “No. No, do NOT put her on. Gwen, I’m working I don’t have time to—”

  His voice instantly goes from loud and irritated to soft and happy. I’m completely taken aback by the sudden change, and I can do nothing but stand there and stare at what's taking place right in front of me. Brady Marshall, bad ass private investigator, just turned into a marshmallow.

  “Hi, sweetie! Yes, I’m still at work. How was school? You did? That’s so good! I’m so proud of you! Yes, Uncle Brady will buy you something for your good report card. Um, ah, I don’t think that’s a good idea, pumpkin.”

  His eyes flash to mine again, and there’s a look of panic in them.

  “Well, because I’m working. I know I always sing with you, but now isn’t a good time.”

  Oh my gosh, he sings with his niece? This just keeps getting better and better.

  “Oh come on, Uncle Brady. I think you should sing with the girl,” I say loud enough for my voice to carry through the line to the little girl he’s talking to.

  I’ll get you for this, he mouths silently. I just shrug in response and place my hands on my hips. If he wants to know so much about me, then he better start doing some sharing of his own. Listening to him sing on the phone with his niece is an excellent start.

  “No! Not that song. Anything but that song. Emma, please? How about that awesome Nirvana song I taught you last week? No, it does NOT suck. Where are your priorities?”

  Brady lets out a huge sigh, rolls his eyes and then turns his back to me.

  “Fine. But this is the last time,” I hear him say softly to her.