More Than Protect You (More Than Words #6.5) - Shayla Black Page 0,12
week, and you’ve been here even less…”
“Other than my drive from the airport and lunch in town yesterday, I haven’t seen much. Sorry I’m not more helpful.”
“We’ll figure something out.” I try to sound as if I’m not worried, but I am. We need to get out of limbo and into hiding before her knife-wielding asshole tracks her down again.
“How did you and Trace meet?”
She’s making small talk, and I don’t mind. “Joe, the guy who’s apartment I’m crashing in, left me a list of places and activities I might like before he left the island on business. He’s hired Trace in the past for some fishing excursions, so I did the same shortly after I arrived. We hit it off, and we’ve gone out for a beer or two since then. He’s a good guy.” I shrug. “You and Nia seem close.”
“We’re working on it. The truth is, I didn’t even know she existed until last November. I knew my dad and our maid had a fling after things between him and my mom fell apart, but that all happened before I was born. Then Stephen and my dad walked into a meeting last November to negotiate a deal with Evan Cook and met Nia, who was his assistant then. About a month later, Stephen told Nia we all share the same father. Until then, she had no idea. At the time, I was too wrapped up with Oliver. After he was born, I really struggled.”
“Difficult birth?”
“Thankfully no. I just wasn’t sure what to do with my life. Barclay made it clear he wasn’t interested in me or our child, and I had no job since he’d fired me.”
“What a bastard.” How or why did she ever think she loved him? She’d been young and probably naive—two things a player like him would relish. Then he’d likely used his position of power to seduce Amanda because she’d been vulnerable. Had she let him because she was really looking for some sort of father figure? Does she still like the idea of an older man being her “daddy”?
I need to hop off this dangerous train of thought.
“Yes, but I…” She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter; I was wrong. Then he got arrested, and the press went insane. I tried to get a new job, but no one wanted to hire an assistant who came with so much baggage. Inevitably I ran out of money, and I had to start making hard choices. I had every reason to leave LA, but Stephen helped me financially until I reached the end of my lease. I’m sure that’s why he thinks he can stick his nose in my business. Well, and he’s my big brother. But I just want to start over clean. That’s why I came to Hawaii. I’ve spoken to Nia over the phone for the last couple of months, and she invited me to stay with her until I got settled somewhere. But clearly I can’t. I’m doubting a fresh start is even possible. But don’t worry about the money. I’ll make sure you get paid.”
“We can talk about that later.” Sure, I need the cash, but she’s got a full plate, along with a smorgasbord of problems. I can be patient.
Silence falls, stretching out long and uncomfortably. I reach for my phone.
Maybe I should call the coffee shop I tried the other day. The owner said a lot of active and retired cops frequent his place. It’s possible one of them would be better suited to protect Amanda after our week is up. But I’ve never met any of them. Would someone else really ensure her safety—without taking advantage of her?
I pocket my phone again. Sure, I might like looking at Amanda, but nothing will ever happen between us. She’s ass-deep in problems, and I’m at the tail end of a divorce. Neither of us needs entanglements. But I can keep her safe; I know that. Despite everything, she’s better off with me.
I’m spared the awkwardness between us—most of it because I can’t stop mentally undressing Amanda—when my phone rings. I pluck it free again and read the display with relief. “Trace. Talk to me.”
“I found a place. Amanda can stay there at least another ten days. If no one has found her by then, there’s an option to extend her stay another two weeks.” He tells me it’s a vacation villa right on the Pacific in a gated community. The neighborhood is exclusive and quiet, the beach