Ask RJ - Heart of Texas

Ask RJ - Heart of Texas



Ardrianne asked, R.J. Could we pretty please get a story about Jack's daughter and nephew and their happy ending too from the Texas series? I know it would not be MM but we sort of watched them grow up and I doubt I 'm the only one that like an entire book dedicated to them.

Hiya, this is definitely something I will be writing. I can't leave Hayley without her finding love. I'm hoping to have something done for early 2017, so consider it booked! First off though is the Legacy series, in which we get to watch Hayley grow up a little more :)

Kissing Alex Release Party on Facebook tonight

Kissing Alex Release Party on Facebook tonight


I'm having a release party for Kissing Alex on Facebook tonight. Find me here from 7pm to 9pm (UK BST) with guests, fun, and maybe the odd glass of wine or three.


Focus on Max and the Prince (Bodyguards #3)

Focus on Max and the Prince (Bodyguards #3)




The Book

Bodyguard Max Connery is used to being mistaken for being younger than he is.

Being carded every time he buys a beer is usual. Even though he's just turned twenty eight and has two tours in Afghanistan as a pilot under his belt.

When a threat is made on the life of a prince attending University in the UK, Max is the perfect choice to blend in with  students and to keep Prince Lucien safe. Even if it means joining the swim team to be by his side.

But, when death visits the University, abruptly this job is a long way past keeping the prince happy and safe. Instead Max has to keep Lucien alive.

















Bodyguards Inc. Series


Book 2 - The Ex Factor
Book 4 - Undercover Lover
Book 5 - Love's Design
Book 6 - Kissing Alex (coming soon)

Buy Links - eBook




Buy Links for Print Book - Volume 2 - Max and the Prince & Undercover Lovers




Reviews


Click to enlarge
Bike Book Reviews - 5/5 - "....First off let me say, "I have been waiting on this one!" This series is the one that started my obsession with Rj Scott books, and finally reading this one was like meeting a new friend from a family you have known a while, I loved every minute of it!...."

Rainbow Gold Reviews - 10/10 - "....Max and The Prince is a great read, the best in the series so far. I was gripped from start to finish. I think RJ Scott has excelled with this book...."

Rainbow Book Reviews - "....This is a suspense-filled mystery, threaded with a hot, but not insta-love relationship....

....If you enjoy stories with suspense, intrigue, murder, bodyguards, princes, and passionate sexual encounters, you may appreciate this story. Thanks, RJ, for the exciting escapade...."

Paranormal Romance Guild - 5/5 - "....This was a wonderful story with two amazing characters, a hot, macho bodyguard and a quiet caring prince. I am sure there are many out there who can't imagine a gay man can be macho and tough, but they can be. They can be a man’s man in more ways than one. How many heterosexual men out there are afraid of their own shadow? I can say in all honesty I never figured out who the guilty party was and that doesn't happen often. This series does not have to be read in order, but why miss out on other hot bodyguards?...."


Excerpt


Chapter 1

“This is the most important case you’ve ever had!” The shouted words boomed into the outer office, and Max frowned at the anger and vehemence in them. Seemed the new client was giving Kyle Monroe, owner of Bodyguards Inc., one hell of a time.

Ross Jackson glanced at his watch. “I think you’d better go in,” he said, punctuating the words with a tap of his pen to his desk.

“Will Kyle want me in there yet?” Max tried to ignore his concern about this whole mess. He wasn’t the kind of person to unnecessarily stress about situations. No, Maxwell Connery was a get-things-done kind of guy and had absolute focus. But this bodyguard to a prince gig was worrying him. He didn’t know if the actual prince was beyond the door to Kyle’s office, since the raised voices belonged to Kyle and only one other. The curse words from the other man didn’t bode well, but neither did they sound like any kind of prince Max had ever visualized. Max had arrived a few minutes after the potential clients and now sat with Ross in the outer office while initial discussion was undertaken, which was par for the course, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t heard every word from the angry man inside.

And now it was Max’s turn for his part in this beauty parade. He was up on a close protection job for a prince. A real, honest-to-God royal from some country in mainland Europe. He tried to get information out of the normally verbose Ross, but he was being uncharacteristically quiet this morning. Max couldn’t believe that Ross didn’t know something about what was going on in there. After all, the PA to the owner of Bodyguards Inc. knew everything and could always be relied on to pass along something that would give Max the edge during the interview.

“Before I go in, you seriously know nothing about the client?”

“Nothing,” Ross said. “Big scary dude who’s with our client isn’t happy, though.” He inclined his head to the closed door that was doing little to muffle the shouting.

“Is it the prince who’s doing all that shouting?” No doubt Prince Whatever was a spoilt, entitled, upper-class twat who coasted through life with no worries.

Ross peered at the screen in front of him. “Nope, that is Teddy. He’s built like…” Ross waved his hands around. “He’s the royal bodyguard. And that’s all it says. Just Teddy. Looks like he wants to kill everyone.”

Teddy sounded like a weird name for the guy Ross described and the owner of the cursing, shouting voice in Kyle’s office. ‘Teddy’ brought up images of a cute guy with an adorable button nose on his endearing little face. But as Max pushed himself up to focus on the job at hand, he knew he was the last one to talk about appearances. He was twenty-eight, but he was still carded all the time.

“At least my name is kinda cool,” he muttered, more to himself than Ross.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing.”

Drawing back his shoulders, Max knocked on the door and waited for the “enter.” There was no shouting now, just a horrible cold silence. Max quickly assessed the situation in the office. He recognized Teddy the giant—broad, six eight at least, short to the scalp hair, a scar on his forehead, black suit stretched over his muscled frame, earpiece dangling on his neck, and a scowl carved into his expression.

Which meant the other one was the prince. Right? Didn’t look much like a prince, though. The man was slouched in the chair with familiar white leads from earbuds plugged into an iPhone. Max couldn’t see the prince’s face, hidden as it was by the hood on a bright sapphire Cardiff University sweatshirt. Baggy jeans and scuffed Converse completed the look of couldn’t-care-less rebel. Max could hear the music the prince was playing from where he was. Not the bones of it to recognize an artist, but the high tinny beat of the music that flowed in time with the tap of the guy’s left foot.

“Maxwell Connery, Theodore Estevan.” Kyle indicated the giant. Max held out his hand to shake and was treated to a quick once-over from Teddy, or Theodore, as he was being introduced. “And this is Prince—”

“This is your man?” Teddy interrupted with something akin to horror. He stood up so violently he caused his chair to skitter back and hit the wall. “This child?” Teddy’s voice held an inflection—something Mediterranean, maybe?—though it was mostly lost in the sheer dismay in the tone.

Max didn’t drop his hand, and whether Teddy couldn’t think of another reason not to shake it or he was just being polite, Teddy grasped Max’s hand with a quick squeeze that was probably supposed to underline Teddy’s intimidating size and strength. Teddy was strong, that was undeniable, but Max didn’t flinch.

“Mr. Estevan,” Max acknowledged.

Max waited for an introduction to the elusive guy under the hood. Instead Teddy grabbed his chair and sat back down. There was evidently no rush to include the prince in any of this, not that he seemed at all bothered. Apart from the tapping of his foot and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, he didn’t move an inch.

“Max is one of my best operatives,” Kyle said, his tone the same one he used when he was calming Ross down after a missing stapler incident, low and encouraging. Like if he said something in just the right way, the situation would be diffused.

Teddy sneered at Max. “You told me this Max was a pilot, ex–Air Force. I don’t see that in this kid.”

“I am former RAF,” Max said. “Ten years, including two tours overseas.” Max refused to be insulted by the open contempt and disbelief on Teddy’s face. If it wasn’t for one crashed plane and a faulty ejection seat, he’d still be flying, and he was proud of what he’d achieved in his time in the service. People could judge him harshly on his age, but not on his accomplishments.

Teddy huffed dramatically with an angry shake of his head.

“You can’t think I am handing Prince Lucien over to the care of someone as… little… as this man. What happens when someone attacks? Is he going to blow them over with a kiss?”

Max refrained from making a retort. He wanted to, but that wouldn’t be professional. No, he had to let Kyle lead this. But hell if he would forget that kiss comment. He’d find Teddy and knock all six eight of him on the floor, then stand and laugh. There was no adage more appropriate than “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.” Max might only be five nine, but he knew all the moves to bring tree-size men to their knees.

“I’d suggest you show my operative some respect,” Kyle began. Max cast his boss a quick glance. That kind of language didn’t get sales. Kyle’s words could provoke, and provoke they did.

Teddy stood up again, and Max winced as the chair smacked the wall hard enough to leave scuff marks.

“I will not be spoken to like that. Prince Lucien, we’re leaving,” Teddy announced theatrically with a wave of his hand and the press of fingers to hood-guy’s shoulder.

The hidden man moved away from the hand, and with an exaggerated sigh, he pushed back his hood and pulled out his earbuds. He stood up, but Max couldn’t get a good look at him because Teddy was in the way.

“You need to go outside, Teddy.” The guy’s voice was slightly accented but English enough that it was difficult to ascertain the country of origin, similar to Teddy’s. Prince Lucien sounded tired.

Teddy stood firm. “I’m not—”

“Teddy, I’ll handle this.”

“I don’t trust him, sir,” Teddy insisted.

“I know you’re only thinking of me, but please, Teddy, give me five.”

Teddy didn’t respond, but there was a visible tightening of his shoulders and he spun, deceptively graceful for such a big guy, to face Max. There was one final stern glare that dripped with so much warning Max nearly took a step back, then Teddy moved away and left the room.

For the first time, Max got a good look at the man who had been hidden under the hood. Dark hair, tousled and messy in that just-out-of-bed look, with bangs that dropped to his eyebrows. With the hair was the darkest of eyes, a rich chocolate brown. The man had cheekbones to die for and a wry smile on his face. He didn’t look like any kind of prince that Max had seen before, certainly not all spit-polished and serious like he’d expected.

Max couldn’t help himself, he smiled back and extended his hand. “Max Connery.”

“And I’m Lucien Magrello. Could I possibly have the room for a few minutes?” He addressed the second to Kyle, who looked at both him and Max with concern on his face.

Finally, Kyle scooted up from his chair and left the room, briefly squeezing Max’s shoulder as he went past.

“Please, Max, have a seat,” Lucien said.

“I prefer to stand, sir.”

“Call me Lucien. Please.” He didn’t make a move to sit himself; instead, he looked at Max with a considering expression on his face. “Do you swim?”

Max blinked at the question. Swim? Why was that important? “I swim,” he said. He tried not to let the uncertainty in his head filter into his voice. He’d been on several jobs with BI before, but he’d never been asked whether he could swim.

“How well?” Lucien tilted his head as he spoke, his dark eyes narrowing as he assessed Max. “I mean, you’re not tall, so your length would be less than…” He stopped talking, a sudden flush of color on his cheeks.

“I swim well enough,” Max answered.

“Well enough to be on a swim team?” Lucien was so earnest and so young. Max knew Lucien was twenty-five which made him only three years younger than Max. But the way he was talking now made, all eager and excited, made Max felt terribly old. A swim team? That would involve swimming fast and yes, he could swim, but he wasn’t the fastest or the best swimmer out there.

A full sentence didn’t immediately come to mind. “Uhm…”

Lucien huffed a laugh. “Actually, you don’t have to answer that. I mean, it’s the perfect way to keep close to me if you practice with the swim team. But your boss had the idea of you pretending to be my boyfriend so you can come watch me practice even if you don’t swim.”

“If it becomes necessary then that is certainly an option,” Max said.

“Because I won’t give up my swimming, okay? Whatever you say, however many times you lock me in a room, I will always find a way to get out and swim.”

Max nodded like he understood every word that had just been said to him. He was a good swimmer, strong enough to keep up with the other cadets at Cranwell, but Lucien was right. Max was short, which was a handicap against long, lanky Lucien.

“I’m sorry, I just insulted you,” Lucien interrupted Max’s thought process. “I can assure you I am normally better mannered; it’s just I’m not in a good frame of mind. If that is any excuse.”

“You didn’t—”

“I mean, you’re short, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t do your job, yes?” Lucien clapped his hand over his mouth. “I did it again.” The flush of embarrassment seemed to intensify, and Lucien added a frown for good measure.

“I’m five nine, which is actually about average, and yes, I can do my job.” That was the best Max could come up with at the moment. He’d always found honesty was the best policy.

“And about Mr. Monroe’s idea for you to pretend to be my boyfriend?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Max said.

Max swore he saw a flash of disappointment in Lucien’s eyes at his noncommittal answer, but it was so quick he couldn’t pin it down. He’d think on what it meant later.

“And, Mr. Connery, you will stop… everything?”

That Max couldn’t promise, not until he knew all the facts. “Why don’t we go over why you need a bodyguard—besides the obvious, of course—and then I’ll tell you what I can do.” He sat down in the chair the prince had suggested and indicated that Lucien should take the chair opposite.

“What do you need to know?”

“Tell me everything.”

Lucien glanced at the door, uncertainty on his face. “Shouldn’t the others be in here?”

Max shrugged. “Do they know more than you?”

Bitterness and sharp-eyed focus replaced the uncertainty and blushing. “Hell, no.”

Max sat back in the chair and forced himself to relax. “Tell me, then.”

“Where from?” Lucien did the opposite to Max and leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees and foot tapping to an unheard rhythm.

“The beginning.”

“Okay.”

Prince Lucien stopped for a moment, and his eyes lost that sharp focus. He was lost in memories and Max knew better to interrupt the flow. He just hoped that Kyle could keep Teddy outside for long enough that he could get a feel for whether he was a good fit on this case.

“I apologize for the way this story starts, because it’s a long time ago. And it isn’t excuses, but reasons. Is that okay?”

“Go on.”

“When I was five, my youngest brother was born. He was a beautiful baby, and I remember holding him when they brought him home.” A soft smile tilted his lips. This was clearly a very happy memory. “And I don’t mean for the official photos, I mean just holding him to hold him. He was so tiny, and I thought, ‘He’s the person I want to be good for.’ Right there and then I felt so empowered as a big brother I decided I would keep my room clean, not shout at my mum, the whole list of things kids do to test the limits. As far as I was concerned, Sebastian, or Seb as we all called him, would be my responsibility. My other siblings were older than me and away at school, and it would just be me and Seb for the longest time.” Lucien stopped for a moment and Max sensed this story was going somewhere very painful for Lucien.

Lucien sighed. “We were close, but he became ill, leukemia. He died when he was twelve.”

When Max had suggested Lucien start from the beginning, he hadn’t imagined it would go this far back and compassion welled inside him. Lucien had clearly adored his brother.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Lucien sat quietly for a moment and didn’t look up to acknowledge the comment or make eye contact with Max. “There is a reason why I’m telling you this. You see, there are particular ways of reacting to things in my family. We stay quiet and we grieve privately. We don’t rant and rave at the world, we accept sympathy with grace and courage. But when Seb died, I didn’t… I went… I lost control of my life for a long time, drinking, partying, and having—” He coughed. “—an inappropriate liaison. Of which there are photos.”

“Photos of the drinking, or the liaison itself?”

“Both. The drinking my family could handle, but the, uhm… sex side of it was a bitter pill as it doesn’t look good.” Lucien air quoted the last words with resignation in his voice.

“Have you seen the photos?” Max prompted.

Lucien reached for an envelope on Kyle’s desk and passed it to Max. “In there,” he said.

Max opened the envelope and pulled out one photo just far enough to see a grainy shot captured with a long-distance lens of a man that could potentially be Lucien with what looked like another man. Very quickly he pushed the photo back into the envelope. “I don’t need to see any more. So this whole situation is about you being blackmailed for what? Being gay? Being caught on camera?”

“Kind of.” The way Lucien spoke told Max there was more to this than was obvious at first.

“Whoever’s threatening to expose you does realize this is the twenty-first century, right?”

Lucien colored, but at least he was looking at Max directly now. “In my family, my country… Look, the man I’m with in the photos is a government official, a married official. I promise you I didn’t know he was married… but I was… drunk… really drunk. I don’t expect you to understand, but my family is held to a higher moral standing.”

So Lucien believed that any family in the public eye should have higher moral standards than the rest of the populace. Useful to know.

Max was puzzled. “Do they have problems with you being gay?” Max couldn’t recall anyone in the British monarchy who was openly gay, but to be honest, he didn’t pay that much attention.

“They know that I am. They don’t—” He searched for the word. “—approve as such. But as long as I keep it all behind closed doors, it’s fine. After all, I have three older siblings who can take care of the family firm and the appropriate number of heirs.”

Bitter much?

“So, this government official, you think he is the one blackmailing you?”

“No, God no. The authorities went down that road and Edward denied everything and they couldn’t find any link or evidence.”

Max pulled his lower lip between his teeth and considered the information. Princely meltdown, photos, gay sex—none of it added up to Prince Lucien needing an actual bodyguard.

“There’s more, then,” Max said. There has to be.

Lucien shifted uncomfortably. “The first few notes arrived just after I was photographed with the man and they were sent to my parents. Imagine that? Your parents being sent incriminating photos of their quiet son. They were shocked, horrified, but they refused to negotiate with the blackmailer. They ignored them, and there weren’t any more threats, no more photos, and everything appeared to end. I just wanted to hand over any money they wanted, but my family wouldn’t let me, and it seemed they were proved right. Right then it seemed that whoever took the photos and threatened me had given up.”

“What do you mean, it seemed?”

“Because then they found the body.”

Lucien was growing agitated, twisting his fingers together, and he was no longer flushed with embarrassment but spiky with the beginnings of anger. A change of subject was probably a good idea.

“What body?” Max said.

“Wait, I have to get this straight in my head. I should start with university.” Lucien closed his eyes and looked to be getting his thoughts in order and Max had to hold back his instant state of alert at the mention of a body. “I decided I wanted to study in the UK, anything to get away from… everything. I’d already missed years by losing the plot, gap year from uni after gap year, always an excuse not to go. Then suddenly, that is all I wanted to do. My old tutor recommended Cardiff a long time ago when I was only twelve or so, something about the UK Universities having the best research facilities and Cardiff being a beautiful city. When I was applying I remembered what he said.”

“Not to mention it’s in a different country.” Max pointed out.

“Yes. I mean, at first my family didn’t like the idea of me moving so far away without a security team. Or without the pomp and ceremony of a visiting dignitary.” Lucien rolled his eyes. “But after everything I went through when Seb died, I think my parents finally came to the decision that any move to get my head out of my arse was a good one.”

Max couldn’t help the small snort of amusement. The word arse coming out of Lucien’s mouth was just all wrong. Lucien frowned momentarily at the snort but continued.

“So some years later than the other students I should have been with, I started my degree. I was registered as just Luke Magrello, the normal guy with the funny accent.” He pointed at himself and offered a wry smile. “Luke Magrello doesn’t need a bodyguard or any special treatment. The threats had stopped. Everything was quiet, and I wanted to blend in and be normal. I’m ashamed to say that I did my own bit of blackmailing by promising my parents to never drink again if they’d only let me study at Cardiff and live on campus and just be normal.”

“Okay, let me understand this. You’re a prince, royalty, but you imagined you could hide away and no one in the age of Twitter and Facebook would put two and two together?”

“Prince is a title, that’s all. My family doesn’t have the money one would think was attached to it. I’m maybe eightieth in line to the throne in the UK through my father’s side, but we’re not rich—in fact you could say we’re property rich but cash poor.”

Max couldn’t get any of that to make sense. Why was someone blackmailing a family with no money, and—wait, none of that answered his original question. “So why do you need a bodyguard?”

Lucien bit his lip. “I don’t think I do.” He held up a hand to stop Max from responding. “The letters,” he said. He passed over another envelope, and this time Max pulled out everything. Nine separate letters in individual plastic wrappers with the stamp of Cardiff police on three of them and a familiar country name on the other six. So that’s where Prince Lucien comes from. Envelopes were attached to each, but none had gone through a postal service as such. All hand delivered, then.

“They’re in order,” he said. “The first six were sent to my home before I moved here and when the police looked at them the first five were all linked by tone. Crude and sexual, whoever wrote these was after one thing, and they signed off OS. The sixth one is different. The first five had my parents demanding I had a 24/7 bodyguard, and there was no way they would have let me leave the country on my own. Look… you’ll see.”

Max read the first one, a letter of admiration and respect, albeit a short one. Nothing much that would ping his radar, apart from the fact the letter had been signed off with mine forever before the simple initials OS. It appeared all five of the letters ended the same way.

The second was a little more insistent, suggesting Lucien maybe hadn’t received the first, then apologizing for being a nuisance. Although there was no return address on the first, so how the hell Lucien could have replied even if he’d wanted to wasn’t clear.

“That’s just irrational,” Max murmured, more to himself than Lucien.

“It’s like he wanted a reply,” Lucien said. “I don’t get it either.”

The third was angry and said in no uncertain terms that Lucien should know better and where were his manners. Still irrational. The fourth was where it got interesting. Abruptly the writer was saying that Lucien wasn’t the man he thought he was, the man that OS, whoever OS was, had fallen in love with. The letter writer said there were photos and he would hate to see them released to the press if Lucien didn’t respond to the letters admitting he was in love with OS.

“That’s where I am thinking, respond to what? Is there something in those letters I should be seeing to know who to respond to?”

Max shook his head. “I don’t see anything. But somehow the writer thinks you should know him. Did OS seem familiar to you? Oliver, Oscar, something?”

“Nothing at the time, I promise you.”

“And the blackmail photos, I assume he means the ones I just saw.” He turned to the next letter and confirmed his own statement. Crudely stapled to the fifth missive was a black and white print of the blurred image Max had just looked at with the words You think I couldn’t give you this? All you needed to do was ask. Then written in block capitals, I will have you.

Lucien pointed at the writing. “We had checks done on printing and the tone of the words. All of the letters are a supposed match but because there is no part of it that is handwritten in cursive or script, we can’t get any more from them. The authorities couldn’t find anyone with the initials OS who had a direct link to me, but do you know how many people in my country have those letters in their name?”

Max glanced at Lucien, who was gesturing wildly to underscore the question.

“I can imagine,” he said.

The sixth letter was different. The paper quality better, and the words used less raw and more controlled. If Max didn’t know better, he’d say they were from a completely different person.

All it said was You don’t need to worry any more. I’ve dealt with him.

“The suspicion was that this was a different person,” Lucien said. “Then—” He squirmed a little in his seat. “—the police found a body in a burned-out car, a man named Oscar Sheiver.”

“You think that was OS?”

“His apartment wall was covered in photos of me, my family, and he had these printed wedding invites between me and him. All they could determine was the dead man, Oscar, had been murdered before being placed in the car, killed by several blows to the head. There was no evidence to link to who killed him, and for the longest time I thought my parents had cleared up the issue.” Lucien lowered his head. “I didn’t know what to think.”

“Okay, so letter six is someone admitting what they did,” Max summarized. “That they ‘dealt’ with OS.”

“That is what the police thought, but with no more leads, it was done. I sobered up, became more of who I should be, and applied for a university place here.”

Max turned to letter seven, the first of the ones with the Cardiff police station tag. I’ve seen what people are like around you. Be careful. The paper was again different, which ruled out a connection that way, but still, the tone of it was a warning and wasn’t threatening in any way.

“That was pushed through the door,” Lucien said.

“And you think it’s by the same person who might have removed OS from the picture?”

Max shook his head. “I don’t know. No one knows. It certainly looks like it, but it’s been so long since the first six letters, it’s anyone’s guess.”

If the author of the last letter six had followed the prince to his school in a completely different country, then it didn’t matter the tone wasn’t threatening. Not good.

Letter eight rambled on for two pages, all in capitals, talking of the kind of people that Lucien should watch out for: the teammates in the swim team who were lying to him and the housemates who wanted nothing from him but money.

“This seems pretty specific. Do you have a feeling that someone is lying to you on the team?”

“No.”

“And is someone in your house taking money from you?”

“No, nothing more than lending a fiver here and there,” Lucien said. “No one knows who I am apart from the uni authorities.”

Letter nine was on different paper, a pale yellow cheap stock from the weight of it. This was both somewhat of a threat couched in a demand for Lucien to ‘see’.

It ended with a strange sentence. I can’t always keep you safe, why don’t you see that? I need you to see or you’ll end up getting killed.

Just that. A simple collection of words that were stone cold in their finality and intent.

Max considered the last part: or you’ll end up getting killed. That wasn’t the same as ‘I’ll kill you’? The words were subtle in difference and it didn’t sit well with Max. “He or she didn’t say they would kill you, just that you’ll end up being killed. That suggests a dissociation from hurting you directly.”

“I can’t see the difference,” Lucien said. “At the end of it I’m dead, according to whoever wrote these.”

“You want my advice?” Max asked. He pushed forward before Lucien could say a thing. “Go home to the castle or palace or whatever with Teddy, and get as far from here as possible until the authorities track the letter writer down. If it’s the same person who dealt with OS and that person is here in the UK now, then you should be keeping your head down.”

“We don’t have a palace or a castle,” Lucien snapped. “And I’m not going home. That is exactly what my parents want. I’m in my last year, and I want to stay. The deal so I get to stay is that I have security. They sent Teddy over—he’s the head of security at home. But you’ve seen him with his best impression of a hairless Hagrid, and if he’s with me, nothing will be the same. I need someone who will just be with me. If I stay here, if I don’t want to go home, can you help me? Will you?”

Max glanced up from the letters to see the resignation on Lucien’s face. Lucien was expecting Max to say no. Vulnerability shadowed his eyes, and he clasped his hands together so tightly the skin was white. Max’s heart won out over his head. Lucien wasn’t arrogant or expecting Max to say yes, he was defenseless and scared. He might not be listening to Max’s advice, but that wasn’t what Max was here for. Max was merely the bodyguard.

“Let’s talk more.”

GRL 2016, Kansas City, Book Ordering form

GRL 2016, Kansas City, Book Ordering form

Hi. This was the page for book ordering for GRL. I'm sorry, but I won't be attending this year. For a full explanation please click here:

http://rjscottauthor.blogspot.co.uk/2016/05/im-really-sorry-on-cancelling-grl-sales.html

x

The Five Senses Blog Tour Master Post

The Five Senses Blog Tour Master Post




Most of you know that I hold an annual blog hop highlighting World Autism Awareness Day on April 2nd. Every year we discuss different issues and this year the blog hop focuses on how people on the autism spectrum can quite differently to taste, touch, hearing, sight and smell. Each author taking part will have a fact based around the senses.

We've had a wonderful line-up of authors taking part in the blog hop. Don't forget to hop through and take part in the final gasp of the giveaways.


1st 2nd 3rd 4th 5th 6th
RJ Scott Marie Sexton
Alex Jane
LiamLivings
Diverse Reader
Nic Starr Amber Kell H.K.Carlton
7th 8th 9th 10th 11th 12th
NR Walker Catherine Lievens Lillian Francis Lexi Ander Jambrea Jo Jones AKMMiles
13th 14th 15th 16th 17th 18th
JLMerrow BeanySparks KellyClemmons Nancy Adams
19th 20th 21st 22nd 23rd 24th
Eli Easton Garrett Leigh Devon Rhodes CarterQuinn Joanna Chambers Charlie Cochet
25th 26th 27th 28th 29th 30th
Clare London Jay Northcote CharlieCochrane Amy Lane


Daniel - The Third Legacy (Legacy book 3)

Daniel - The Third Legacy (Legacy book 3)

Coming soon

A hidden past can only mean an uncertain future.

Daniel ‘Danny’ Flynn has made his way through college on an athletics scholarship. Danny had his hopes set on making the US Olympic team. When it looks like he may not make the cut, it seems his future is set in working with his aunt selling houses.

Corey Dryden is a journalist onto the story of the year. Four men, one abuser, and all connected to Dallas royalty—Jack and Riley Campbell-Hayes. Corey just needs a way in, and tracking down Daniel is his first step. This story could be award winning exposure for Corey’s career, and he’ll do anything to get what he needs. Can the lies he tells Danny lead to anything but heartbreak?

Because, Danny’s past has to stay hidden, or it could destroy any hope of a future for either of them.

A new story set in the world of Jack and Riley Campbell-Hayes and the Double D Ranch, Texas.




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Focus on Guarding Morgan (Sanctuary #1)

Focus on Guarding Morgan (Sanctuary #1)

Cover Art by BitterGrace
Sanctuary Series

Book 1 - Guarding Morgan
Book 2 - The Only Easy Day
Book 3 - Face Value
Book 4 - Still Waters
Book 5 - Full Circle
Book 6 - The Journal Of Sanctuary One
Book 7 - Worlds Collide

The Book

Morgan Drake witnesses a murder in an alleyway. He is the only person who can give evidence in prosecuting the cop responsible for the crime. When the FBI safe house where he’s being held is compromised, he follows the instructions of his agent in charge and runs.

Nik Valentinov works for Sanctuary, a foundation that offers witness protection when FBI security is questionable.

When Morgan's handler sends him to Nik for safety, neither Morgan nor Nik could imagine that two weeks alone in a cabin in the woods could start something more. Something way more than just trying to keep Morgan alive. Something that makes their heart race more than danger...... Love.






Buy Links - eBook

Love Lane Books  | Amazon (US) | Amazon (UK) | Kobo | Barnes & Noble | Smashwords

Buy Links - Print Book

Amazon (US) | Amazon (UK)

Buy Links - Audio

Amazon (US) | Amazon (UK) | Audible (US) | Audible (UK)

Reviews

Dark Diva Reviews - 4/5 - "...I am a huge fan of character driven plots, loving the angst and torture characters suffer through to find their ultimate happiness. That is not to say I do not love a good action-filled story either. What Ms. Scott has achieved is a wonderful blend of both character development and a storyline centering around action..."

MM Good Book Reviews - 4/5 - "....The storyline was brilliant and the plot kept you reading. It was smoothly written and there isn’t too much going on that you get lost. The sex is hot and sensual and made me want more of it..."

Mrs Condit & Friends Read Books - 4.5/5 - ".....One thing I almost never do is read books in a series out of order. But somehow I jumped into R.J. Scott’s Sanctuary series on the second book The Only Easy Day. I continued on with the rest of the series knowing I was going to come back to Guarding Morgan at some point. Now I’m kicking myself I didn’t read it sooner because I think it was my favorite of the series...

Night Owl Reviews - 4.5/5 - "....I liked the premise of not only the story, but of Sanctuary as well. I found the characters likable and I liked that they were not one-dimensional. Morgan has a cubicle job and doesn't like to cause waves, but is stronger - physically and emotionally - than he appears to be and that comes out as the story progresses. Nik may, to all appearances, be "all about the job" and may not know the meaning of the word "quit", but he has his vulnerable side as well...."

Literary Nymphs Reviews - 4/5 - Lastly, there are a few plot threads left dangling, but I’m assuming that since this is a continuing series that these will be dealt with at a later date. I look forward to the next release in this thoughtful, well plotted, entertaining series.

Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

"Twenty, one sixty-six, Altamont, western, black cat, lemon pie, twenty, one sixty-six, Altamont, western, black cat, lemon pie…" The words were on repeat in Morgan Drake's head, a litany, over and over, in case he forgot. His FBI shadow had drummed the words into him until he could repeat them in his sleep.

"Just in case, Morgan, okay? If there's any problem, you take these keys and the car I showed you in the next door basement parking, and you take Highway Twenty West onto the 166, head for Altamont, Western Street, find a bookshop called Black Cat Books. Someone will locate you there, and he'll have a password, okay? Lemon Pie. He's a guy I trust with my life, and his name is Nik. I'm writing his cell number on this paper. You need to memorize it in case I can't contact him. Can you repeat… twenty, one sixty-six, Altamont, western, black cat, lemon pie. After me…"

He lost the rhythm of the words as a dark sedan overtook him and then peeled away at high speed. Dread gripped him again and he fought hard not to hyperventilate. Taylor had told him this car would be safe in every sense of the word. Fueled, in good condition, and with plates linking to an elementary teacher in Queens. The convoluted route to the garage where the car was housed meant he would probably have not been followed. Probably. He couldn't stop the car. "Don't stop driving Morgan. Don't you stop for anything or anyone once you get on the road. Not FBI, not cops, no one." Taylor always finished his sentences with the simple question: "Do you understand?" No, Morgan didn't understand.

Gabriel - The Second Legacy

Gabriel - The Second Legacy

The Book

Trapped in darkness, can an escort find a man to help him into the light?

Gabriel Reyes never gave in. He fought and was hurt, was abused but escaped with his life. He made his way in the world using the one thing he was good at: sex. He earned a place with a man who controls everything but Gabriel is safe; he’s made it.

Cameron Stafford hires Gabriel for a night, needing nothing more than a pretend boyfriend to get his dysfunctional family off his back. With the money he has in the bank and his own hotel, why won't they just leave him alone? It doesn’t matter that a degenerative disease has stolen his vision, or that his last boyfriend was a bastard who tried to steal from him; for now he has purpose.

When Gabriel and Cam fall for each other, can they find real happiness and, maybe, a forever that will save them both?

Be aware: emotional and physical abuse are depicted on the page in this book.

A new story set in the world of Jack and Riley Campbell-Hayes and the Double D Ranch, Texas.

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Reviews

"..Gabriel’s journey towards a place where he begins to recognise that he is worth more and might be loveable and even capable of loving somebody else is breathtaking if far from easy. Because this story doesn’t come with miracles, sudden flashes of insight and easy ‘happy-ever-afters’. And while that made the story at times very hard to read, it also provided a level of reality that made the ending to this story all the more touching and so very worthy of the tears in my eyes.

So my friends, heed the warning and then lose yourself in a story that will touch your heart and stay with you for a very long time." - The Way She Reads
"I love reading RJ Scott books because she tackles sensitive matters with delicacy and grace. Her writing style is very visceral and poignant that I am often moved to tears. As with book 1, this second book was very angsty, emotionally taxing and subtly encouraging. The threads of hope kept me going through the hard to read parts because I know that we will eventually make it over to the other side." - Oh My Shelves

"It tugs at the heart strings. It makes you laugh. It makes you cry. It makes you angry. It makes you wonder how one person could inflict that much abuse on another human being. It makes you not want to stop reading until you've read the entire story cover-to-cover in one sitting.

It also make you wonder (at least it did me) what plot bunnies RJ is dealing with for the next Legacy series novel.

I wish I could give it 100 stars, but the most I can give it is 5, so 5 it is. Gabriel (The Second Legacy) is a definite must read!" - Jim's Reading Room



Kissing Alex (Bodyguards 6)

Kissing Alex (Bodyguards 6)

Cover art by Meredith Russell

The Book

Is running to a remote Scottish island the only way for them to stay alive?

Martial arts expert Lewis is the kind of bodyguard who slips under most people’s radar. Quiet, reserved, but constantly on alert, he’ll do his job, keep his charges safe, then relax by reading Shakespeare in his spare time.

When he’s given a case involving a spoiled celebrity singer, Lewis isn’t all that impressed. The job is nothing but babysitting a pretty boy, and he’s used to diplomatic postings with depth and challenge. What could he possibly have in common with the man he’s being forced to look after?

Alex became the envy of many when he and his fellow band mates won second place in a huge TV talent show. He has more money than he knows what to do with, no life goals, an ex-boyfriend selling a sex tape and now, someone who wants him dead, or at the very least maimed.

Can Lewis keep Alex safe, even when things usually in his control go to hell? Is running to a remote Scottish island the only way for them to stay alive?

Bodyguard Inc. Series

Book 1 - Bodyguard to a Sex God
Book 2 - The Ex Factor
Book 3 - Max and the Prince
Book 4 - Undercover Lovers
Book 5 - Love's Design
Book 6 - Kissing Alex

Buy Links

Amazon (US) | Amazon UKKobo | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | iTunes

Reviews

MultitaskingMommas 4/5 - I can say, honestly, the kissing scenes were the best in their story.  This is a wonderful installment to the Bodyguards, Inc. series and now we finally have answers to the question of just who Lewis really is and what he's capable of. This also paves the way to the next book and I can't wait for what that will reveal.

Carly's Book Reviews 4/5 - Set on a remote island, the rich history of the Scottish people is subtly integrated into the story and adds a layer of authenticity to the gorgeous setting. Kissing Alex is a mildly suspenseful contemporary romance with minimal angst. The moderate heat level, characterized by frequent makeout sessions, gave me the warm-fuzzies and the story a pleasant and engaging core. A yummy romance that satisfied my literary sweet tooth.

Diverse Reader -  This is a wonderful addition to this already terrific series. I’m always blown away by the descriptions and history of the places RJ uses as her destinations. It’s mesmerizing and makes me want to hop a plane to go there.

Excerpt

Chapter One

“No.”

Lewis Nevin didn’t have to be a certified genius with an IQ of 147 to see where this conversation with Kyle was heading.

No, he just had to see the obvious clues—like Ross hiding in the kitchen and Kyle, his boss and his friend, looking all kinds of guilty. In fact, he’d known what Kyle had been hinting at since the very moment the owner of Bodyguards Inc. had called him into the damn office. He just said nothing and let it play out so that Kyle would be on the back foot.

Three years of working for Kyle, and Kyle had always accepted that every year from the end of March and into April he was unavailable for work. So why would he be suggesting things that meant this long-standing arrangement would be changing?

Kyle held up his hands. “You don’t even know what I’m asking.”

“I do,” Lewis said. “You want me to cancel my month off.”

“No, not at all.”

The piss and vinegar Lewis had sparking through his veins subsided in an instant, but the suspicion remained. Something was going on here.

Kyle continued, with a serious expression and determination in his tone. “I have this new case, and it’s personal to us.”

“Personal how?” Lewis wished Kyle would just cut to the chase.

“I have a client who needs somewhere to keep his head down for a couple weeks.”

“And you know I’ll be back mid-April.”

“That’s too late, it’s needed now.” Kyle laced his fingers together and couldn’t quite look Lewis in the eye.

A myriad of emotions zipped through Lewis. Kyle was lying; somehow he was asking Lewis to give up his vacation time, his precious month on the island. “I’m not available now, and you said you didn’t need me to—” He stopped, his brain catching up with his words, and abruptly it all made horrific sense. “Hell no!”

He knew exactly where this was going.

“Hear me out,” Kyle pleaded.

“This month is my time.”

“I know, and if it wasn’t important I wouldn’t ask.”

Lewis held his tongue. As far as he was concerned, any job was important, and that was what Kyle usually thought too.

Kyle continued. “This is something Ben asked me for.”

Great. Now Kyle was pulling the fellow-bodyguard card.

Still, Lewis was abruptly worried. “What’s wrong? Is Ben okay? Is Daniel okay?”

Ben’s boyfriend, Daniel, was a nice guy, a singer with an expanding career. Lewis counted Ben as a friend—as much as Lewis had friends with the lack of down time he had.

“It’s not Daniel. He and Ben are in Japan at the moment. It’s a friend of Daniel’s.”

“A friend of Daniel’s?”

“You’ll recall the show Daniel was on….”

“I do.” Lewis wasn’t a man who sat in front of the television watching brain-rotting shit like that. Apart from his obsession way back with Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, he didn’t watch much television at all. However, he’d caught enough about the show Kyle had referred to in the news, and he knew exactly who finished where in the competition. Not for the first time, he cursed his brain’s capacity to recall all kinds of useless facts.

Kyle prompted him. “The band that came second.”

“Twelfth Wonder.” Stupid name for a band.

“One of the boys is having some trouble.”

“Boys. Trouble.” Lewis repeated. Five boys—well, men, actually.

“He needs somewhere safe to stay for the next few weeks. He’s the loose end and leverage in a serious case.”

Lewis picked up the subtle inference that the man was in danger and that it would be better for certain people if he wasn’t around at all. This was something Lewis had seen before.

But… once a year, that was all, he was due vacation time, and he couldn’t believe Kyle was asking him to work. Nothing disturbed his family time on Stoirmeil or the work he did there. In fact, temper itched inside him, and he had to consciously force it back.

He didn’t get angry. “Wait. You want me herding a pretty boy when I should be sitting with my books and getting my downtime. Can’t you get him to a safe house or something?”

“This goes a lot deeper than one of our normal cases.”

“Bring him here.”

Kyle attempted innocence. “I just thought you might want to help.” When Lewis failed to react, he sighed noisily. “Okay, you have an island. We need a place where no one would find him.”

“It’s my time, Kyle. You know I need this month.”

Kyle looked a little guilty, and then his expression turned sly. “It seemed like a good plan on paper, but I told Ross it wouldn’t work.”

“This was Ross’s idea?” Lewis could believe that; Ross was one sneaky fucker. Then he caught Kyle glancing at the closed office door with a guilty expression. “It wasn’t his idea.” Not a question, a statement of fact.

Kyle nudged a folder toward him. “Okay, so it was my idea, but there is one thing. This one pays well, and all you’d need to do is watch over the kid and keep him off the grid.”

“I said no. I get one month, Kyle—less than that. Twenty-eight freaking days at home.”

“I had to ask, because I need a guy who can go dark for a couple of weeks, and y’know, you going to the island means that you’d be gone longer than that. His management team is willing to pay well, a year’s money for four weeks’ work. I can probably push them to more if you take it on. They want secrecy.”

“Who is this guy and what did he see?”

Kyle tapped the file. “It’s all in here. I think you should read the file and the background information, to see if this case is something you’d want to handle.”

“This singer. You know I don’t like working for shallow idiots without a single brain cell.”

Lewis hated his boss at that moment, which was shitty because he loved working for the tall sexy American. Bodyguards Inc. was one of the places where he felt at home. Years in military intelligence, man and boy, had shown him a lot, given him skills, but it was Kyle who had seen past the brains to the simple man beyond. Lewis hadn’t reached thirty-one without feeling he could judge character, and he judged Kyle to be a fair and excellent boss.

Kyle sighed again; he was doing a lot of that. “I know, and this could be a stretch. I don’t know the client at all. This is all being done covertly.”

Lewis tried once more to attempt an explanation. “Kyle, I have my commitments.”

Kyle leaned back in his chair. “Young Alex would fit right in. He’d stay quiet and keep out of your hair, and he’d earn you a big bonus for keeping him safe.”

Lewis didn’t fall back on cursing very often, finding it easier to construct an appropriate logical reason for his responses than to randomly swear. But he wanted to rant right now, using as many expletives as he could. He was adamant that he wouldn’t take on the job, convinced he was heading north tomorrow for his annual break, and utterly unmoved by anything Kyle had said.

Then the money smacked him in the face. How much money? And was it worth tilting the balance of his life just for more?

The harbormaster’s house needs a new roof; the café needs extending, and the trail needs developing.

He attempted to ignore the inner voice that told him he should at least look at the file. His inner voice won with its promises of financial help for Stoirmeil.

“I’ll read the file,” he said evenly, holding back the need to snap, and he scooped up the paperwork. “You know where I’ll be.”

He left the office without a goodbye, without, in fact, another word, storming past Ross and out into the mid-March air, which slapped him on the face with its frosty hands. He didn’t stop being angry until he closed the doors of the manor library behind him, finally safe in the one place he felt most relaxed.

Surrounded by the impressive collection of old books and wedged firmly in the wing chair by the unlit fireplace, Lewis opened the file.

The first thing he saw was a picture of the kid, who, according to his profile, was twenty-seven years old and thus only four years younger than Lewis

He looked young and sexy. Maybe it was the hair, a strawberry blond color, longer in the back and tucked behind the ears, artfully styled in some flicky pile on top — it made him look young. Or maybe it was the eyes, green, Lewis thought, with a hint of brown… hazel, then. The photo was clearly a promo shot by the way the stubble was just a certain neat length, and the pout of soft lips lent a smoldering air to the image.

But it was the lips Lewis really focused on—full and pink and pouty. Lewis had a thing for lips.

For kissing, actually. Clinically he assessed the photo, slapping it face down to one side on the small table next to the chair.

“Alex Cantrell.” He sounded out the name and then glanced down at the other information.

First was the contract amount: a solid quarter of a million would be the reward for anyone willing to put up with the boy band pretty boy who needed a safe place to sleep for the next four weeks.

Two hundred and fifty thousand pounds was enough to set up Stoirmeil for a year, and it would take the pressure off Lewis having to work 24/7.

He read on.

Alex James Cantrell, 27. Birthday April 1, height five nine. Originally from Edinburgh but moved to Bournemouth, on the south coast of England at age eight. Mother and Father deceased, both in their early seventies. Gay. Graduated from the University of Edinburgh with a 2:1 in business studies.

Pretty normal for the most part, apart from the fact he had no family, which had to suck. His parents clearly had him as a late in life baby. Then he re-read the information.

“Business studies,” Lewis muttered. Not quite the same prestige as the degrees in physics and statistics from Oxford and the doctorate in statistics Lewis held. Still, at least Alex wasn’t an idiot and could probably hold a small, somewhat intelligent conversation if needed.

Lewis realized where his train of thought was going, almost as if he was considering the job. He cursed himself and turned to the next page. This was the interesting part, the whys and wherefores of this young man needing a bodyguard, or, in this case, somewhere to hide.

The detail was sparse: Alex had been the victim of a physical attack with no associated hospital stay, and his ex-boyfriend was giving evidence against his own family. A sex tape had been released featuring the potential client and his ex.

Then Lewis saw something that hit him right between the eyes.

Azarov.

One word. A Russian family with a hold in the import and export of anything illegal, with a focus on drugs moving in and out of London and Birmingham. Lewis knew all about the Azarov family: the grandfather, Mikhail Azarov, who had his father’s Russian blood and the fierce passion of his Italian mother, ruled the family with ruthless efficiency. He’d spent over half his life in prison, running his family just as well from behind bars as outside in their Sussex mansion.

The fear of how much the Azarov influence had spread was never more evident than from the fact that the Prime Minister took regular briefings on the matter from the head of Scotland Yard, some of which Lewis had been a party to when he guarded the deputy prime minister last summer.

Azarov and the establishment had an uneasy truce, and the influence of that one man, along with his sons and his grandchildren, was far-reaching.

And Alex-freaking-Cantrell had an ex-boyfriend, Roman Azarov, who was willing to do what it took to shut the Azarov family down?

Well, that wasn’t good. Roman was a grandson of the head of the Azarov family.

What was Roman going to say in court against his family? How bad could it be to destroy an organization that had survived since World War II? Lewis scanned the rest of the papers, but that detail was nowhere to be found.

So Roman’s vulnerability was Alex?

That was why Alex needed somewhere to hide.

Suddenly the library was too closed-in, Lewis’s usual sanctuary invaded enough that he stalked out and into the huge kitchen. He dropped the file on the work surface, and the papers slid out with the photo top and center, Alex’s pouty lips and sexy face staring right up at him.

He started some coffee and leaned there, waiting for the machine to do its thing. The Azarov family played on the wrong side of the law but had enough money to buy almost anyone off.

There were newspaper cuttings in those files—the tabloids going to town on the Alex Cantrell sex tape—but so far nothing had the press connecting Alex to the Azarov family, otherwise Ross would have made a note of it in the file. There were a few stills from the tape: grainy, but very definitely this Alex guy topping the hell out of a man with short hair. Was that Roman Azarov? Had the sex tape been revealed to discredit Roman? Did Alex know what Roman was doing?

“Lewis, hey.”

Lewis looked up to see Max amble into the kitchen, yawning widely behind his hand.

“Morning, Max,” Lewis offered with a smile. He liked Max. In fact, there was nothing not to like about the short guy who looked about twenty-one but was actually as old as Lewis.

“Coffee,” Max whimpered and slumped onto a stool.

“Late one?”

“Three-week rotation on a chat show host who won’t shut the hell up.” Max yawned again. “Idiot keeps announcing on his show that his guests aren’t the fathers of their babies, and it incites on-screen fights.” He shrugged. “He’s gonna get people wanting to stab him.”

“All resolved?”

“No, I’m still on the books. Adam’s covering me for a few days so I can sleep.”

“An intense one, then.”

Every so often you were assigned cases that sucked the life out of you. Charges who were complete idiots, putting themselves and their bodyguards in danger, or ones who refused to listen. It seemed as if that was what Max was handling.

Lewis poured coffees and passed one to Max along with cream and sugar. Max sipped at the black stuff and closed his eyes in ecstasy. “Thank fuck,” he muttered. “I needed that.”

“Where’s Prince Lucien?”

They were typically joined at the hip on any of Max’s downtimes.

Max grinned at him, then winked. “Still in bed.”

Lewis quickly changed the subject. “Do you know this guy?”

Lewis knew that Max, through his lover, Lucien, had a connection to Alex. Lucien was friends with Daniel, who’d been on the same show as the potential client. The way Max’s brain worked was, he collected random facts, and somehow they all stayed in his head. A collection of everything, which then never left.

“Who?”

“Alex Cantrell, from Twelfth Wonder.”

Max brightened. “Yeah, good kid. He was the one who gave Ben the heads-up on Daniel.”

Lewis nudged the file to Max. “He needs a bodyguard.”

“Shit, why? Overeager fans? Ben was saying some girl jumped Daniel the other day, asking to marry him.”

Lewis tapped the file with his index finger. “No, I wish it were that easy. An ex-boyfriend with links to the Azarov family, a released sex tape—by whom I don’t know—and a court case I don’t have details on yet but where Alex is vulnerable. Possibly the family wants Alex as leverage against the key witness.”

Max grimaced. “Ouch. The Azarov family. Are they the ones who run the drug route between London and Birmingham?”

Lewis nodded, then added, “Allegedly.”

“And a sex tape? With Alex in it?”

Lewis pulled out the still and pushed it toward Max, who looked at it, then looked up at him with an open-mouthed expression. “Shit. That’s, um—”

“Wrong,” Lewis said.

“Exactly what I was going to say.” Max grinned, then sobered. “Poor Alex. Bet the management of the band love that one. I always got the impression that Alex was supposed to be the clean-cut one. Cute and mysterious, not the ‘I’m gay and I actually have sex’ one.”

He opened the file and pushed past the photo of Alex. Max didn’t linger on Alex’s lips—but then, he had regular sex with his boyfriend. Nope, Max wasn’t in a desperate no-sex zone like Lewis was at the moment.

Sex.

Then it hit Lewis. Having Alex in tow meant he couldn’t stop off for the night in Inverness to hook up with anyone who would be interested. Months of no sex were starting to take their toll, and Lewis had placed a lot of faith in that one night and being able to work through all his pent-up sexual aggression. Finding a guy who didn’t look at his height and broad chest and think he exclusively topped.

My life sucks.

Max interrupted Lewis’s thoughts. “Jesus. This isn’t looking good.”

“Yeah.”

“And this is your next case?”

Max looked at him expectantly as if he assumed Lewis was going to say yes.

“I haven’t said yes yet.”

Max whistled. “Hell of a payout. Not that you need the money, Mr. Scottish Jimmy McRich, laird of an island.”

“Ha-ha,” Lewis joked back dryly, deflecting the heat of any further questions.

Let everyone think what they wanted to; it made no difference to him, or to him doing his job. If only Max knew exactly how much he needed the damn money, or the kind of responsibilities he had, then he wouldn’t be teasing. The only one that did know was Kyle, and likely Ross, given they were the opposite sides of the same coin.

“Guess they could get Adam back. He’s covering for me for a few days, and then he has a transit job to Greece, but he’s due back in the office at some point. I only know that because Ross muttered some dark shit about his stapler.”

Lewis focused on the information in that sentence and not on the stapler stuff. “Yeah, they need someone now.”

The thought of Adam taking the job unsettled Lewis. Adam was all happy and loved-up, with a boyfriend and probably a dog by now, and the Azarov family weren’t the kind of people you messed with. Better if one of the single bodyguards got involved.

Who was he kidding? Lewis knew he would be the one taking Alex where he’d be safe. Too many reasons why he was the perfect one for the job; they outweighed the negatives two to one.

Damn his organized brain and its need to have everything in a line.

“I think I’ll be the one to do it.”

Max nodded as if he’d assumed Lewis would do it anyway. “Adam doesn’t own an island in the middle of nowhere where a man could safely hide.”

Lewis didn’t want to even think that he was losing his four weeks of peace, where he was isolated and could find his center again.

Max poured another coffee, pulled out a red mug, and filled that as well. He yawned again. “Bed,” he muttered and left the kitchen and Lewis to his thoughts.

Lewis nursed his coffee, with resignation in every one of his thoughts. When he walked into the office, Ross looked up at him with that same expectant expression. “And?” he asked as he stapled papers together in a new file.

“Yeah, okay,” Lewis answered grudgingly.

“Full details of the court case to date are in your email. Flight BA7813 to Inverness City Airport, 0920 tomorrow. Alex’s management covered your flights. We’ll pay you for an extra two weeks at the end for you to be able to stay after this is over. It’s the least we can do.”

Ross didn’t bother to ask if Lewis needed to write that down. He knew as well as anyone that Lewis had a freaky brain.

“I’ll go to the airport tonight,” Lewis said.

“And I’ll book you a room, text you the details. Same place?”

Like that, Lewis had agreed to something he never thought he would. He left the manor; his company-issued Jeep ate up the miles to London and he ended up at the Hilton at Heathrow. He completed enough lengths in the half-size pool before his muscles turned to jelly.

By the time he fell asleep, he had rationalized the decision to take on Alex’s case. After all, the money would fix a lot of problems on the island. Just because he had someone he needed to keep an eye on, didn’t mean he wouldn’t get peace. He just hoped to hell Alex wasn’t high maintenance, the type of reality show diva expecting the world to revolve around them.

Knowing his luck though, Alex was exactly that type.


Chapter Two
Lewis arrived at the airport an hour before the flight was due to leave, checking out the lay of the land, the people, and all the escape routes. His gaze zeroed in immediately on the man he was here to find.

“Marnie, be careful of yourself,” the man with the sunglasses said tiredly.

That had to be Alex. Slightly taller than the woman with him, he was likely the five nine Lewis had been expecting. His hair looked blonder, but not much was visible under a scarlet Ferrari cap.

“Jeez, how much crap is in this bag?” the woman replied in an incredulous tone. She hefted a huge suitcase from where it stood on the floor.

“For fuck’s sake, it’s just my stuff,” the man answered in a defensive tone.

Lewis listened to the exchange and scanned the small groups of people waiting for the 0920 flight to Inverness. It was obvious that it was Alex, simply because he was trying too damn hard not to be noticed. The combination of sunglasses on an overcast March day, a cap, and the whole aura of “famous person passing for normal,” made him easy to spot.

Lewis typically guarded politicians and dignitaries, the kind of person he liked to be around, with skills and opinions and doing something positive in the world. They didn’t need the whole I’m-not-famous façade. Very seldom were they anything but on a pedestal or in charge of a meeting or cutting a ribbon at a ceremony. None of them needed to hide; they needed someone to stop them being shot at and/or jumped on.

This was different. This kid—man—was part of a boy band, which didn’t bode well for a start, and probably had the brains of an amoeba, albeit an amoeba with a saleable voice as his only talent.

Lewis knew he was opening the box marked Idiot and placing Alex right in it, pouty, kissable lips or not, and he wasn’t going to feel guilty about it. Added to that, Alex had just spoken to the woman next to him with absolutely no respect—and made her carry the suitcase.

Two plainclothes security guys hovered to his right and behind him. From the way they watched the people around Alex, they were police or something similar.

Lewis crossed to the nearest one and flashed his ID, and without exchanging any words, the two men melted away leaving him with his two targets—one of whom was this tiny woman, the other this really skinny idiot wearing sunglasses on a cloudy London day.

Lewis had done his homework. Twelfth Wonder was crazy big. Over six million songs sold, a million albums, success in the US, and all that in the three years since they’d won second place in a Saturday-night talent show. They had fans that adored them, and they had fans that obsessed over them, and not always in a good way. Lewis guessed he shouldn’t call Alex on the sunglasses if that was what he was expected to wear as part of his boy band uniform.

Casually he checked out the groups of people in departures, mostly business people staring down at their phones, none of them would take a second look at an average guy in jeans. But Alex apparently expected them to.

Yep, diva.

The woman with Alex was small and sharp, hovering over him as if she wanted to touch him at every moment. She was struggling to get the heavy suitcase upon the weighing platform, while Alex stood there, not attempting to help at all.

Great start.

Lewis reached in front of her and lifted the case onto the platform and, in doing that, he caused two things to happen: the woman looked at him with shock and fear in her eyes, and Alex shrank back against the nearest wall, with a dramatic gasp.

Jesus, the singing diva’s jumpy.

“Lewis Nevin,” Lewis said immediately. Then he lowered his voice, “Bodyguards Inc.,” and held up his hands in a gesture of innocence.

A couple of people had glanced over at Alex’s gasp, and the last thing Lewis needed was an audience. Instead, he focused on the suitcase. The thing was damned heavy and ended up checking in overweight. Paying the excess distracted the woman and, while she did so, Lewis stood impassive and watchful. Alex moved away from the wall. He seemed embarrassed and a bit shaky on his legs, looking around Lewis, probably for the two cops who’d brought him here.

“Marnie.” She introduced herself when she handed Alex his boarding pass. “I’m Alex’s PA.”

PA and general dogsbody, if her lifting the suitcase was anything to go by.

Lewis shook her hand and watched the case until it was out of view. Then he held a hand out to Alex with the same “Lewis Nevin” introduction.

Alex looked at him blankly, his eyes half-closed, and only after a slight pause did he shake Lewis’s hand, weakly and quickly as if he couldn’t bear the touch.

What the hell was wrong with people that meant they gave these ineffectual handshakes? Lewis always found people who offered a limp handshake were equally limp people. Yet another chalk mark in the column of “why the hell am I doing this again?”

Money. You want the money.

Lewis pulled himself together; he was a professional, and once he had Alex somewhere safe, he could get on with what he needed to do for the next month. The Isle of Stoirmeil was a quiet place. There he could focus on other things and look after Alex at the same time. Alex didn’t look like he was going to be hard work—it looked as if a stiff wind would blow the man over.

Okay, so he was being harassed, chased down by the bad guys, and had a video of him fucking his boyfriend spread all over the Internet, so likely he would be happy with a month of isolation. Alex looked like he needed fresh air, exercise, and a whole lot of feeding up. Davey would see to that, with Sorcha primping and poking at him and making him smile.

Marnie waited until they boarded the flight, her hands constantly playing with the tassels on her purse, reminding Lewis of a hyperactive kid. Alex, on the other hand, sat absolutely still in the waiting area, with his eyes closed and the white buds of his headphones in his ears. He passed through checks without speaking, and then found his seat on the plane, again with no words.

Lewis saw him wince as he sat down and fastened his belt. “Are you okay?”

Lewis was good at reading body language; he had to be when he assessed potential enemies for weaknesses, and Alex looked like he might be in pain.

Alex only nodded, and that was his answer.

Lewis buckled up and settled back for the flight. To anyone who looked at Lewis, he appeared to be a regular guy, albeit tall and broad. That was his superpower. He wasn’t hulking like Ben, or hard and scary like Adam; he was the businessman in the tailored suit, taller than most at six three, but in proportion. Muscles were there, but he was more lithe than muscle-bound. Still, he was on the job, and he’d already scoped out the other thirteen passengers on this small internal flight.

He knew the staff by name. Assessed that the guy in the seat three rows ahead of them was full of self-importance and bluster and that one of the women three rows back was pregnant and on her way to Scotland to tell her boyfriend.

This was all intelligence gathered from observations and overheard snatches of conversation. He’d seen all that, knew all that, and he was good at his job. He was also accurate at reading people. Marnie had been all efficiency and almost motherly concern. When she’d left Alex at Departures, Lewis thought she might well break down in tears. She’d hugged Alex, and with a few whispered words, she’d left.

Alex had taken a step to follow her. That was telling: he clearly didn’t want to be here; he wanted to go with Marnie.

But Alex now? Lewis couldn’t get a quick read of him; he was an enigma wrapped up in a puzzle. Alex was quiet, a little out of it—well, a lot out of it, actually, and Lewis suspected drugs. He fired off a quick email to Ross, asking him to check a drugs connection of any kind. Covertly he kept an eye on Alex, but they didn’t exchange a single word, and Alex fell asleep an hour into the flight. He slept until the captain announced they were five minutes from Inverness.

Alex woke, startled and panicked, his hands gripping the seat; he yelped. A high-pitched sound that had him clamping his lips shut and looking at Lewis directly.

Lewis met his gaze, but he didn’t comment on the panic or the yelp. Alex’s eyes were a little clearer, the hazel-green prominent in a face lined with exhaustion.

Something wasn’t adding up here. Lewis leaned in and Alex shrank back. “What drugs are you on? Do we need to get more? Because you realize that when we get to the island, that’s it. No people on corners peddling whatever poison you crave.”

Alex blinked at him, evidently assessing whether or not he should answer.

Then he pointedly looked out of the window. “Fuck off,” he said, clearly and straight to the point.

Lewis had to give him full marks for the delivery, if not for the content of the comment. Maybe he hadn’t asked the question right. Then he realized he couldn’t expect much from Alex. Telling Lewis to fuck off was probably Alex at his cerebral best.

Lewis probably deserved the acerbic reaction anyway. Kyle often said he was too direct, though it usually went down fine. His clients didn’t have time to pussyfoot around an event; they needed guidance from an expert in keeping them safe. Lewis had to admit he hadn’t been entirely respectful and polite; he’d allowed his own resentment at having to do this looking-after-Alex thing during his month off to color his words.

Yet, Alex had just told him to fuck off, very bluntly. Apparently money didn’t polish a dull stone.

Lewis sat upright waiting for the plane to land, visualizing the arrivals area. And all the time he watched Alex and was acutely aware of everything around him.

All was quiet.