Forbidden confessions pr.., p.1
Forbidden Confessions:: Protectors, page 1
Contents
Seduced by the Bodyguard
About Seduced by the Bodyguard
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Epilogue
Seduced by the Spy
About Seduced by the Spy
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Seduced by the Assassin
About Seduced by the Assassin
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Seduced by the Mafia Boss
About Seduced by the Mafia Boss
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Epilogue
Tempted by the Billionaire
Wicked as Sin
About Shayla Black
Other Books by Shayla Black
FORBIDDEN CONFESSIONS: PROTECTORS
Written by Shayla Black
SEDUCED BY THE BODYGUARD © 2020 by Shelley Bradley LLC
SEDUCED BY THE SPY © 2021 by Shelley Bradley LLC
SEDUCED BY THE ASSASSIN © 2021 by Shelley Bradley LLC
SEDUCED BY THE MAFIA BOSS © 2021 by Shelley Bradley LLC
This book is an original publication by Shayla Black.
Copyright 2021 Shelley Bradley LLC
Cover Design by: Rachel Connolly
Edited by: Amy Knupp of Blue Otter
Proofread by: Fedora Chen
Excerpt from Tempted by the Billionaire © 2022 by Shelley Bradley LLC
Excerpt from Wicked as Sin © 2020 by Shelley Bradley LLC
ISBN: 978-1936596966
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by an electronic or mechanical means—except for brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews—without express written permission.
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away, as it is illegal and an infringement on the copyright of this work.
* * *
All rights reserved.
ABOUT SEDUCED BY THE BODYGUARD
* * *
What will he demand in exchange for keeping her safe?
I’m Sophie, pop-star princess.
My career is on a superstar trajectory.
Until the bullets start flying.
The bodyguard I hired to protect me drags me to safety.
But now I’m trapped alone with a man I barely know.
One who lights my body on fire.
But someone wants me dead.
Rand can save me from evil.
But his protection comes at a price…
* * *
Enjoy this Forbidden Confession. HEA guaranteed!
Arlington, Texas
July 4
10 a.m.
Sophie
This morning is already hotter than the underside of Hades, but it’s also Independence Day. My agent, David, insisted that hometown-girl-made-good appearing in one of the biggest parades in Texas is an effective grassroots way to spread the word about my new single and upcoming album, so here I am. Besides, I’ve traveled the globe for the better part of a dozen years. It’s comforting to spend a day near home, surrounded by the smell of smoking brisket and the sight of people waving Old Glory.
“Ten minutes,” David proclaims as he sticks his head into the little bathroom at the back of one of the shops at the top of the parade route.
Of course he’s wearing a suit, despite the fact it’s already a hundred degrees. And he looks impeccable doing it. The man is a stickler.
“Thanks.” I check my red lipstick in the dingy mirror.
This is as good as it’s going to get. My sparkling red minidress is an attention-getting showstopper, but the Stars-and-Stripes stilettos really command a double take. I feel a bit like USO Barbie…who suddenly decided to walk a street corner.
Then again, it matches my new image. Gone is my squeaky-clean child-star persona. Now I’m an adult—and David never misses an opportunity to remind people that puberty hit me hard and fast by dressing me in things that cling to my ass and show off the fact I very definitely have boobs. It’s annoying…but I can’t argue with the results. It’s working.
I’m just not sure I care anymore.
Another problem for another day.
“I’m ready,” I tell him as I hide my liquid lipstick in my cleavage.
When I look up from tucking the tube between my breasts, there’s a stranger beside David, towering over me and watching my every move. I would feel ridiculous…but with a glance, he knocks out my breath and steals my good sense.
Holy sex drive! I have no idea who this guy is or why he’s here, but he’s as gorgeous as a god, with shoulders almost as wide as the doorframe. His dark eyes are like midnight. He’s wearing a black T-shirt that hugs the bulges of his biceps and exposes tattooed sleeves down both arms. Black denim and black boots complete the look. He’s going to swelter in today’s heat…but he’ll look damn fine doing it.
“Hi,” I say stupidly.
He nods. “Ms. Larsen.”
David intervenes. “This is Rand Garrison, your security detail for the parade.”
The name fits him—hard, blunt, almost brutal. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same,” he murmurs.
The word doesn’t sound like a mere pleasantry. This man isn’t the sort to bother with silly things like decorum or etiquette. I’ve met his type before—very serious and convinced he’s one of the few who stand between order and anarchy in this dangerous world.
“Where’s Rob?” I ask about my usual security detail.
“Tossing his cookies like he’s doing a reenactment of The Exorcist. So you’ll spend the day with Rand, former Marine and most recently a Dallas SWAT captain. Any questions?”
For a two-hour lip-synching gig? “No.”
“Great.” David claps his hands together impatiently. “You look fetchingly patriotic. Shake what God gave you for Uncle Sam, and you’ll do great. I’ll be waiting for you at the end of the route with Graham.”
Graham Normoth, the new British pop sensation with a velvety voice and sensitive face. Women all over the globe swoon and scream for him. Probably because they don’t actually know him as a human being.
“He’s here?”
“He flew in last night. He wanted to surprise you…but jet lag and traffic and whatnot. He told me he can’t wait to see you after the parade.”
“Oh, great.” I do my best to sound chipper, but I’m pretty sure David knows I’m not happy.
Rand steps back and into the glow of overhead lights. He’s even more striking. The wide diagonal scar through his left eyebrow that skipped over his eye and sliced its way down his cheek before stopping short of his mouth only gives him a sexier edge. Ironically, when he gestures me out of the doorway and into a deserted hall, I find myself gawking like I’m the fan staring at a heartthrob.
David hangs back, watching Rand settle an enormous, furnace-hot hand on my naked skin above the backless dress’s scooped edge. He smiles.
What are you up to?
I don’t have time to ask before Rand hustles me out of the little shop and guides me down the back of the parade route, flanking me as he escorts me to my waiting float, all while maintaining his palm on my bare back. It’s all I can do not to shiver at his touch.
“Do you know where I’m supposed to go?” I ask to cut the tension.
“Yes.”
“Do you know the parade route?”
“Yes.”
“Did David arrange for you to ride the float with me?” It’s a must since I’ve had a few unnerving incidents over the last couple of years.
“Yes.”
Clearly, Rand Garrison isn’t a talker.
“Anything else I should know?”
“No.”
Damn, he’s probably the most attractive man I’ve ever met—and that’s saying something—but he seemingly has zero interest in me. Between the people I meet in this business and the internet, I get propositioned a lot. I’m rarely tempted. Now that I might be…he’s not. Just my luck.
It doesn’t matter. After today, I’ll never see this guy again. I just need to perform for the next couple of hours and get on with my life.
“I’m sorry you have to bother with me today. I’m sure you have more important things to worry about.”
The crowd thickens around us as more people finish the last-minute details for their floats and the accompanying performances. Rand turns watchful. Tense. He looks at everything and everyone with suspicion. “I don’t.”
He’s on the job, and he takes work seriously. I get it. I’m still nervous before the start of every gig, too… But he acts as if every minute could be life or death. Then again, in his world it might.
“I appreciate you putting up with me in the crowd and this heat.”
He doesn’t reply until we reach the float. Then
Suddenly, he’s beside me on the float, a red, white, and blue spectacular celebrating America’s past and future with a pair of flags and a stage between them. Once he hands me up to the platform, I’m surrounded by a troupe of dancers in patriotic costumes.
Rand positions himself behind them, doing his best to blend into the background, but he still stands out.
This dress leaves no room for my phone, and I can’t wear a watch with this getup, but from the crowd and the flurry of activity, I surmise it’s nearly time.
Frowning, I glance around for the microphone prop that’s supposed to be waiting. Finally I spot it, then take the familiar shape in hand.
A middle-aged woman dashes by and looks up at me, clipboard in one hand, phone pressed to her ear with the other. “Thanks for joining us today, Ms. Larsen. It’s an honor. Are you ready?”
“Thanks for inviting me. I am.”
“Don’t forget, when you cross that intersection there”—she points—“your music will begin. You’ll sing for that block and part of the next, then your music will drop off. All you have to do after that is smile and wave until your float rounds the last corner.”
I haven’t done a ton of parades, but I’ve played arenas all over the world. This should be a piece of cake. “I understand.”
The woman stops looking harried long enough to smile at me. “Really, thanks for doing this. Our parade is always popular, but you coming back to your hometown today with us has probably tripled our spectators. We’re so excited!”
“I’m happy to be here.” The good food, the community atmosphere, and the friendly people all remind me why I miss Texas.
The organizer moves on, and the humid air stands absolutely still as I wait, wishing I could get my long hair off my shoulders and claw off at least half the makeup the stylist put on me less than an hour ago.
It seems like forever before the parade begins and the floats in front of me lurch forward, crawling down the parade route. Then mine follows suit, dragging across the black asphalt. The heat is oppressive, shimmering off the road in waves under the pounding sun.
I look down at Rand, standing silent and stoic, feet apart, hands at his sides. I feel the coiled tension coming off of him. There’s nothing restful about the man.
It’s almost as if he’s expecting trouble.
But I can’t ask why because the crowd is too loud and we’re quickly approaching the intersection that will mark the beginning of my music piped through the overhead speakers. So I quell my worry, grip the microphone, smile for the folks lining the parade route, and get ready to look like I’m giving the performance of my life.
Everything is great as the float creeps through the intersection. The intro to my latest single cues up. My stomach tenses; it always does before a performance. Then I’m dancing my way through the opening bars of the song and enjoying the crowd’s enthusiasm.
Until gunshots erupt and all hell breaks loose.
Rand
The moment I hear the first gunshot, I grab Sophie Larsen and tug her off the platform, shielding her with my body. Around me, people scream. I draw my weapon. Pandemonium ensues. Parents grab their children. People run everywhere. Others, especially those less mobile, either drop to the pavement or scramble for the nearest doorframe, looking for some semblance of protection.
That’s all moving in my periphery, but what I’m really aware of is finding the asshole with the gun—and the beautiful blonde behind me, breasts rising and falling at my back with every rapid breath she takes.
“Are you hurt?” I shout over the noise.
“No.”
Her reply is faint, but I hear it. That’s enough for now.
Another shot rings out, so close I hear the bullet whiz past my temple. It’s not my first rodeo with this kind of shit, but if I don’t move, it might be my last. Still, I’m under no illusions. I’m not the target of whoever’s pulling the trigger. Since his first shot went way over my head, to Sophie’s platform above, I know he’s aiming for her.
“We’ve got to move!” With a curse, I hop off the float, then pluck her off behind me. To her credit, she lands on her feet, despite those ridiculously impractical, totally sexy heels. Even more impressive, she actually manages to run.
Still, I’m twitchy. It’s the screaming. And the suggestive music filled with Sophie’s smoky voice singing about sex that’s unsettling me. The adrenaline isn’t helping, either. But the back of my neck starts to itch.
The next shot is coming.
Abruptly, I swerve into a nearby doorframe, jerking Sophie with me, again shielding her with my body as the next shot hits a window frame inches from us, splintering the wood. She starts in fear. I yank on the doorknob to the right to try and dive inside. It’s locked.
Fuck.
I’m hyperaware that my back is vulnerable and that she’s pressed against my chest, looking up at me with those hypnotic eyes she’s so well known for, a tumultuous shade between blue and gray. Only now, they’re panicked. I see past the stage makeup and the false lashes to the terrified woman underneath.
“Breathe.”
She shakes her head. “We can’t stay here.”
“No. C’mon.”
I tug on her arm again and sprint down the sidewalk. Another shot whizzes through the narrow space between our shoulders. From the timing and position of the shots, I suspect there’s one shooter across the street, probably on an upper level or roof. And if I can’t hustle Sophie around the next corner before he fires again, at least one of us stands a good chance of being dead.
Air burns my lungs as I sprint toward the corner of the big building on my right. Sophie does her best to keep up. She’s got a death grip on my hand.
Another bullet zings between us, this one near our hands. The screams of the spectators grow even more shrill. Sophie gasps. She’s unnerved. I don’t blame her. Dodging a killer isn’t exactly in her wheelhouse. Worse, we’ve still got fifteen feet before we reach any semblance of safety, and this asshole is going to get off another shot before we can make it. I’d love to turn and off him, but he’s probably a few hundred feet away. The shot isn’t impossible with my Glock, just unlikely. And in the time it would take me to find him, set, aim, and fire, he’d probably tag and bag me. And if something happens to me, what happens to Sophie?
I’m not waiting around to find out.
“Run!” I pick up speed and yank on her wrist.
She stumbles in the ridiculously high-heeled shoes. “Wait!”
No time for that. I wrap my arm around her waist, lift her against my side, and haul ass for safety. Another bullet whizzes by, where Sophie stood just moments ago.
Then we’re around the corner. We’re safe—for now. We can’t stay long, but we can regroup and strategize for a minute or two. Hopefully, it’s enough.
Panting, I lower her to her feet and press her back to the wall, blocking her from any possible threat. “You okay?”
More screaming fills the streets. Sirens roar closer to the scene. She presses a hand to her chest, struggling to catch her breath. “I-I’m not hurt.”
She doesn’t try to claim that she isn’t terrified out of her mind. I know she is.
“Are you familiar with this area?”
“Not really. I’m from DFW, but never spent much time in Arlington.”
Damn. I’m only slightly familiar with this chunk of the city.
