Captive: A Bodyguard Romance (Hollywood Guardians Book 1) Read online

  Captive

  Hollywood Guardians Book One

  Heather Ashley

  DCT Publishing

  Copyright © 2021 by Heather Ashley

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design by Sarah Kil Creative Studio

  Editing by Outside Eyes Editing & Proofreading

  How do you destroy a monster without becoming one?

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Preview of Chased

  Also by Heather Ashley

  About the Author

  I'm not sure if it's the needle carving ink into my skin or the lasting effects of a long night out, but there's a buzzing in the air that makes me feel alive. I'm running out of blank spaces on my body, but it’s an addiction, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to stop. I welcome the pain in all its numbing glory. You know the kind—where it's so constant, and for so long, you don't even really feel it anymore.

  That's the permanent state of my life now, and the only thing left to do is embrace it. There's no fighting it. There's no changing it. It is what it is, and I learned not too long ago that sometimes the best thing you can do is accept that shit and try and make the most of it.

  It's either that or give up, and I'm not the quitting type.

  I'm tempted sometimes by the sweet release death offers, for the oblivion that will carry my demons away so they can go haunt someone else, but my survival instinct is too strong, honed over years that demanded it.

  What I need is a project—something to get me out of my own head and give me a greater purpose. Right now, I feel like I'm spinning my wheels, destined to stay in the same place forever where I'm a goddamn failure to myself and those who depend on me.

  When I first stepped back into civilian life, a buddy of mine got me into private security and bodyguard work. I've built myself quite a little empire with a badass team of my own, but more than once lately, bad shit got past my defenses, and now I feel like a fucking failure.

  If I can't protect the people who trust me, who the fuck even am I?

  A rough sweep of paper towel over my raw skin snaps me out of my thought spiral, and I glance down at the gun now etched into my side. It's a reminder of my greatest failure and my motivation to do better. I let the guys of Shadow Phoenix down. When Griffin got shot on my watch, it took me back to all those times on the battlefield where someone on my team got caught up in the situation and didn't come home with us.

  The drummer getting shot on stage fucked me up, and that was when I really started with the ink. Coming to relish the pain probably isn't the best coping mechanism, but here I am. It's the only thing that's helped, and there's no taking it back.

  That incident was also when I decided to stop being a pathetic, depressed bitch and actually take action. Unfortunately for me—and probably the shooter—one of my guys killed the bastard who shot up the concert.

  So, I was biding my time and waiting for the right “in” to fix another fuck up of mine. The wife of the ex-drummer for Shadow Phoenix, Jericho Cole, got kidnapped on my watch by a motorcycle club called the Reign of Chaos. Those bastards took her right from under my nose. Not a day has passed since that I haven't been sick with guilt over it.

  I couldn't do anything about the Griffin situation, but I sure as fuck could try and take down the Reign of Chaos.

  "You want anything else, we're going to have to start covering some of your old shit with new shit." MJ laughed while he bandaged up my new art.

  I look down at my shirtless torso. "I'm sure we can squeeze more in somewhere."

  MJ studies me before cracking a smile and shaking his head. "You do what you gotta do and call me when you need something else done." He stands and starts to clean up his station, and I pull my t-shirt over my head, lost in my thoughts about what I might want to add to my body next.

  As I'm paying MJ, my phone rings, and I pull it out of my pocket with a frown. Who the hell actually calls people anymore?

  "This is Connor," I answer, tensing up like I'm about to have a goddamn bomb dropped on my head when it's probably some bullshit sales call.

  "Dude, we need you at the office." I recognize Julian's voice right away, but not the number.

  "What number are you calling me from?"

  "Not important. You need to get down here." My second in command sounds edgy, like shit's going down, so I haul ass out to my bike. I can't talk and ride, so I don't start it up yet.

  "What's going on?" I need to know what kind of trainwreck I'm about to walk into because, as the leader, my team expects me to know how to fix shit when I come through those doors. That's me, the guy who always knows what to do—except lately, I feel like all I'm doing is pretending.

  His next words make my heart trip over itself as excitement and dread war in my body.

  "Devil's dead."

  "Fuck. I'm on my way." I end the call without needing to say anything else, but my mind's spinning out. This might be the opportunity I've been waiting for to get inside the Reign of Chaos Motorcycle Club. The one guy who's seen my face is dead, and that's nothing but good for my agenda. I started to think I may have to go kill him myself to get this chance, but someone beat me to it. At least they saved me the clean-up fee.

  The chrome beast between my legs rumbles to life, and I tear out of the parking lot like I'm being chased by Death himself. Maybe I am, but I don't look back, so I can't be sure.

  Now isn't the time to play dead or hide, it's the time to act, and I'm not going to let it go to waste. Distant possibilities race to the front of my mind, and as my bike eats up the miles of road beneath me, I feel the first spark of real excitement in months.

  Every single one of those Reign of Chaos motherfuckers is about to find out the depths of my need for justice and vengeance. I'm not going to settle for anything less than their complete and total ruin.

  I can barely feel the ache in my side anymore when I step inside the Hollywood Guardians office space. On the ride over, adrenaline fully worked its way into every tiny blood vessel in my body, and I'm ready to run headfirst into this shit today. I don't care what it takes.

  My team is already gathered in the center of the office waiting for me, the usual suspects all accounted for with a few new additions. Elias—or Doc, as the team calls him—hands me my tablet before Julian can jump into the debrief.

  "Devil—aka Sam Reese—president of the Reign of Chaos Motorcycle Club's Las Vegas chapter, was killed this morning just outside Las Vegas. We got the report from the local PD. Looks like a rival gang finally had their chance to get him," Julian explains. On my tablet is a grainy picture of the old bastard and the report of his death—three gunshot wounds to the chest and one between the eyes.

  He got off way too e
asy.

  "Do they know what rival gang took him out?" Indy asks as he looks up from his tablet.

  My second flips through his screen before he answers. "The Death Kings. From everything I've learned over the past several months, those two clubs have been in a bloody war for years. It's all kinds of fucked up."

  "So, what's our play here?" Indy asks, looking around the makeshift huddle we've got going on.

  "I have an old friend I served with. He's a member of the ROC, but the San Antonio chapter. I'll be calling in a hell of a favor with him when we're done here, but he's my in." It might be risky as hell, but that's all I have at this point, so I'm going to take whatever edge I can to get in and wreak havoc.

  "Who's going in with you?" Julian's watching me, ready to note down whatever I decide, but I guarantee he's not going to like what I say next.

  "Just me." My whole team starts to protest, and I hold up my hands and wait for them to calm down. Usually, I'd say I don't owe them an explanation. This is my company, my vendetta. But, they all regularly do what I tell them without questioning my decisions. Their loyalty is impressive, and for that, I'll explain myself. "This isn't a paying job; it's straight-up fucking revenge. It's going to get messy as hell, and I can't ask any of you to take the risk. Julian will take over assigning cases and monitoring progress. He'll be your team lead while I'm under, but that doesn't mean I won't be checking in." I turn to Sebastian as he pushes his glasses higher on his nose. "Wrap up whatever you're working on and stay available in case I need you."

  He nods once, and I look around at the others who haven't said anything so I can give them the chance to speak up, but none of them do. Asher, our other new recruit, looks like he wants to say some shit, but wisely he keeps his mouth shut. Of all the people on my team, he'd be the one I'd take in with me if I was going that route, but I can't. I won't make myself accountable to anyone on my team, and most of them have no idea what I'm really capable of.

  If they knew, they wouldn't look at me the same, and I have a feeling this job is going to be the kind that leaves a scar on your soul. I won't ask any of them to make that choice.

  Besides, getting me into the club is one thing; getting a few of us in would be impossible. Better to keep things simple. The fewer questions asked, the better.

  "You know we could make this real simple," Ronin drawls from where he's leaning against his desk with his arms folded across his chest.

  "How's that?" I'll entertain his thoughts because he's earned that, but this Reign of Chaos mission won't be over until my hands are coated in blood. Full stop.

  "I've got friends in both the DEA and ATF. A couple of calls and I could set them on this, and you wouldn't have to go to all the trouble-"

  "No. I guess I didn't make myself clear. This is personal. These guys not only hurt one of my friends, but they supply the drugs that at best ruin families and, at worst, kill people. They kidnap women and force them into the sex trade. They're the biggest pieces of shit humanity has to offer, and I need to see them destroyed with my own eyes. I don't need them tied up in some bureaucratic bullshit. I need to know they're staying the hell away from Moon, and they're not doing what they did to her to anyone else." I'm breathing a little bit harder by the time I finish my speech, and there's a big part of me that's pissed off at his insinuation that I can't handle this shit myself.

  I'm beyond done with standing here trying to figure out what the right move is on how to keep some spoiled princess actress or singer safe. Julian can handle that. Right now, I need to go dark. I need to go back to my roots, to prove to myself that I'm strong enough to do whatever it takes to protect people who can't protect themselves. This isn't about right or wrong; it's about corruption and evil winning and how fucking sick I am of it.

  No more.

  "Well, I can't say you don't look the part," Asher teases with a shit-stirring tilt to his smile that I can appreciate. He's a bit of an asshole, but aren't we all?

  "Yeah, it shouldn't be a hard sell for your friend." Ronin still looks like he wants to force me to step aside and let him move in with all the power of his law enforcement buddies, but that's not how shit works here, and he knows it. He quit the force because he didn't want to be constrained by those rules anymore, just like the rest of us have our reasons for working outside the law.

  Police could be bought, detectives corrupted. It's better if we gather enough evidence ourselves to ensure someone's guilt and then handle the punishment that we think is best. Is it fucked up to be judge, jury, and executioner if the situation calls for it? Probably.

  Ask me if I care.

  All that matters to me is whether or not I'm keeping my clients safe.

  "You saying I look like a ruthless biker?" I raise my eyebrow at him in a sort of dare, wondering if he's going to back down or not. I hope he doesn't. I don't like pussies on my team, and if you're going to talk shit, I expect you to follow it through even if it gets your ass kicked.

  Ryan rolls her eyes and pushes off her desk, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she walks over to the coffee machine. "You know you do. Now, can we quit with the bullshit and get to work? I've got a client meeting I need to prep for, and the testosterone in here this morning is making me gaggy."

  When I brought her onto the team, I wondered if the dynamics I'd worked so hard to create in my company would shift, but they really haven't. She can hold her own just as well as the guys, and sometimes she kicks our asses when we need it. Actually, she does it a lot, and it's a good thing because we'd waste a shit ton more time if she weren't around to keep us in check.

  "Boss, there's a woman here to see you," Sebastian says while frowning at his tablet screen. I bring up the security feed on my own device and almost roll my eyes. I'd say Amanda, my fuck of the month, had some balls on her if I didn't know otherwise first hand.

  We aren't dating, so the fact she thinks it's okay to show up at my office like this is just one more reason I need to end this shit before I go undercover. Our month of occasional no-strings hookups was already almost up, so this is just good timing.

  At least she's saving me a trip.

  I don't even question how Sebastian knows she's here for me; it's his job to keep tabs, and he's damn thorough. I bet he has a big ass file on his laptop about everyone on the team and the people they come into contact with on a regular basis. It's why he's on my team; he's the best at what he does, and I won't tolerate less than the best.

  It takes me all of thirty seconds to dismiss my team and walk to the lobby. I'm not particularly looking forward to this conversation; Amanda seems to be one of the more clingy girls I've been with, and I don't have time to try to ease her through this. If she cries, I'll be stuck dealing with it, and that's the last thing I need today. I've got more important shit to be spending my time on right now.

  Avoiding these situations is why I originally used to find random girls at bars to take home for a night, but now I'm too busy to keep that up. Plus, it's exhausting playing the same game night after night. Between the app I use to find new playthings and the conversation upfront about how all I'm looking for is casual with an expiration date, I don't have trouble meeting my needs.

  Unfortunately, the more time passed and the older I got, the harder it was to convince a woman that I wasn't going to change my mind. So many of them—like Amanda here—think that if they get their hooks into me, I'm suddenly going to profess my undying love and propose marriage or some shit.

  I snort as I round the corner to the lobby. She's about to learn a lesson, and I'm just happy I don't have to worry about who I'm going to fuck for the next couple of months. I've got more important shit going on than sex and relationships.

  The tall, willowy brunette stands when I walk into the reception area and eyes me hungrily. The best thing about her is how she's always ready to go with minimal warm-ups required. "Hi," she says breathily, and I tense up at that one word. "It'd been a while since I heard from you. I thought maybe we could have lunch
."

  I tip my chin toward the door facing the parking lot. I don't want to have this conversation here, mainly because I get the impression she's a crier, and since she's a stage-five clinger, too, I'm braced for a total meltdown. "Let's talk outside."

  I hold the door open for her, and as she moves past me, she brushes her body against mine. I've seen every trick in the book at this point, so I see right through her attempts to seduce me. It's sad and a little bit pathetic. My jaw flexes with the effort to not snap at her and be done with this.

  Amanda stops outside the door and looks up at me with a mixture of hope and confusion. "We could talk at lunch, you know."

  "We're not going to lunch, Amanda. In fact, I think it's best if we go our separate ways. I'm about to start working on a case that's going to need my full focus." There. I let her down as gently as I could in a way I hope she doesn't take too personally. I don't try to be a dick. Over the years, I've found that it usually goes smoother when you end things with a woman if you put the blame mostly on yourself or your circumstances.

  Her chin trembles, and I barely restrain myself from fleeing back into the building. I told her the score, and I don't think I need to do anything else. My mind shifts to the call I need to make to Damon as soon as I wrap up with Amanda. I watch her to see if she's going to say anything, but she tilts her chin up and glares at me with this defiance that might've made my dick hard if I didn't know she was secretly planning our wedding or daydreaming about our future together.