Twisted Games (Twisted, #2)(12)

“I have the skills to be a good bodyguard.” A lot of former SEALs went the private security route, and Christian may have been a bastard, but he was a persuasive bastard. He’d convinced me to sign on the dotted line less than a day after I returned to U.S. soil. “Don’t think I’ve ever been in as much danger as since you became my client, though.”

Her brow scrunched in confusion, and I almost smiled.

Almost.

“My risk of rupturing an artery increased tenfold.”

Bridget’s confusion cleared, replaced with an odd combination of delight and exasperation. “Glad to see you found your sense of humor, Mr. Larsen. It’s a Christmas miracle.”

A chuckle escaped my throat, the sound so foreign I barely recognized it as my own, and something in my soul stirred, nudged awake by the reminder other things existed besides the darkness that had haunted me for so long.

Surprise flared in Bridget’s eyes before she offered a tentative smile in return, and the something lifted its head at the further encouragement.

I shoved it back down.

A laugh was fine. Anything else was not.

“Let’s go.” I wiped the smile off my face. “Or we’ll be late.”





BRIDGET

If I could sum up my relationship with Rhys with one song, it would be Katy Perry’s “Hot N Cold.” One minute, we were fighting and giving each other the cold shoulder. The next, we were laughing and bonding over jokes.

Okay, bonding was too strong a word for what had happened in the cemetery parking lot. Acting like normal human beings toward each other was more accurate. And Rhys hadn’t so much laughed as slipped up with a half chuckle, but maybe that constituted a laugh in his world. I couldn’t picture him throwing his head back with mirth any more than I could picture The Rock dancing ballet.

But if there was one thing I’d learned over the past month, it was I needed to take advantage of the ups in our relationship when I could. So, after my planned “surprise” visit to a local high school, where I gave a speech on the importance of kindness and mental health, I brought up a topic I’d been avoiding for the past week.

“I usually stay in Eldorra longer for the holidays, but I’m glad we’re heading back to campus earlier this year,” I said casually as we settled into our seats at a restaurant by the school.

No answer.

Just when I thought Rhys would ignore the bait, he said, “Spit it out, princess. What do you want?”

There goes the grumpiness again.

A small frown touched my face. I felt like a kid asking permission from a parent when I talked to him, which was ridiculous, but he radiated such authority I sometimes forgot he was my employee and not the other way around.

Well, technically, he was a contractor with the palace, but that was a minor distinction.

“My favorite band is coming to D.C. in January. Ava and I already bought tickets to see them,” I said.

“Band name and location.”

I told him.

“I’ll check it out and let you know.” Rhys snapped his menu closed when our server approached. “Burger, medium rare, please. Thank you.”

I placed my order and waited for the server to leave before repeating in a tight voice, “I already bought the tickets.” Translation: I’m going whether or not you like it.

“Refundable ones, I hope.” His sharp gaze glided through the restaurant, not missing a single detail about the patrons or room layout.

Aaaand there went the down in our relationship, just like clockwork.

“Your job isn’t to run my life. Stop acting like an overprotective parent.” My frustration mounted. I would rather hate him all the time than have my emotions swing back and forth like a broken gauge. It was exhausting. “How are you still employed? I’m surprised your previous clients haven’t complained to your company about your…your…”

Rhys arched an eyebrow while I fumbled for the right words.

“Your overbearing tendencies,” I finished lamely. Dammit. I needed a bigger arsenal of better insults.

“Because I’m the best. They know it, and so do you,” he said arrogantly. He leaned forward, his eyes darkening. “You think I want to parent you? I don’t. If I wanted kids, I’d get myself an office job and shack up in some cookie-cutter suburban home with a picket fence and a dog. I’m in this field of work to save lives, princess. I’ve taken plenty of ‘em, and now—” He stopped abruptly, but his words lingered in the air.

I flashed back to his words from the parking lot. It got too much. The deployments, the uncertainty, the funerals. Watching men I considered brothers die right in front of me.

Rhys hadn’t gone into detail about what happened when he was in the military, but he didn’t need to. I could only imagine.

Guilt and sympathy blossomed in my stomach and curled around my heart.

That was why I vacillated so much in my feelings toward him. I disliked Rhys’s attitude and actions, but I didn’t dislike him, because I understood why he did what he did.

It was a conundrum, and unfortunately, I didn’t see a way out of it.

“It only takes one slipup,” Rhys finished. “One second of distraction, and you could walk into a minefield and get blown to hell. One lapse of judgment, and you could end up with a bullet in your head.” He leaned back, shutters falling over those gunmetal eyes. “So no, I don’t give a fuck if you already bought tickets. I’m still gonna check the place out, and if anything looks off, you’re not going. End of story.”