Guarding Madison: Bodyguards, Inc., #1

By Tabitha Gibson

Guarding Madison

 

 

Bodyguard Lucien Trace was good at his job. Damn good. Following two rules kept him sane: Staying away from the Hollywood-ites and never get personal. A call from his uncle would have him break both of those rules and shatter the biggest rule of all: Falling in love.

 

Hollywood's darling, Madison Jordan didn't have time to deal with a pushy bodyguard. She had enough issues complicating her life already: A domineering mother, a weight complex... oh and a stalker who wanted to kill her. A break in with an ominous message in the form of a knife through her picture kept Trace in her home, but would she willingly let him into her heart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tabitha Gibson
• Release date: Jun 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227733061

Book preview

Chapter One

Fuckin’ Hollywood. Miles of fence whizzed by before he came to the end of the driveway that would no doubt lead up to an entirely too big house. The Wide Glide Harley rumbled to a stop.

Ahh, the rich and famous. They never changed. No matter what the cost, they never changed. Was it any surprise that when his phone rang, it was for one of them? Not really. He had been expecting it actually. He just wondered what took so long.

With one last drag off his thin cigar, Lucien Trace flicked it to the ground and snuffed it out with his boot heel. Trace made a mental note on the height of the metal gate and frowned at the poor shape of the lock. Hardly protection if you asked him.

Keen eyes scanned the area and made mental notes of the other flawed areas: overgrown brush partially blocking one of the cameras, rusty bars and a large space between the last bar and the stone pillar. He was sure people thought the gate was impressive from far away, but up close it was pathetic.

His gloved hand reached out and pressed the call button. After a few moments, someone responded. Thankfully, the voice box was in working order.

Yes?

Trace to see Jay Starler.

Do you have an appointment?

Yes, Trace replied, hoping they would take the time to check. His hopes, however, were dashed when the gates creaked opened within seconds. He shook his head and climbed back onto his Harley.

Strike one.

Sliding dark RayBans over his eyes, he turned the key. The motorcycle roared to life and Trace traveled up the long drive.

A large pool house and Olympic style pool were off to the right but not too far from the main house. Mansion was more like it. He had seen some large houses in his life considering his line of work, but nothing prepared him for the size of this one.

A limousine was parked near the front entrance while its driver concentrated on buffing the already shiny chrome fenders. He gave Trace a glance but nothing more and went back to his work.

Strike two.

Trace shut the engine off and lifted tired limbs over the machine then stretched lightly. He never tired of the sensation riding his hog gave him. Some people might call it a cheap thrill and it might be, but it was a damn nice one. Only thing better was a good woman between his legs. Unfortunately, he hadn’t found a good woman in a long time.

A very long time.

Maybe he was picky but Trace knew what he liked, and since Candice, he hadn’t the desire for a female. Not that his level of need hadn’t been raised a few times; Playboy bunnies, panty girls from Victoria’s, a hard body from the gym. He wasn’t dead; they just lacked that something special.

He strode to the door and out of curiosity, tested the door knob. It opened. He frowned.

Strike three. He’s out.

Trace turned around to leave but stopped and took a deep breath. Usually after three mistakes he left. It had kept him sane and alive all these years. If he were smart, he’d stick to tradition. But Jay was family and Trace had made a promise.

He always kept his promises.

Trace turned back around, pulled the door shut and rang the bell. A moment later, an aging woman opened it. She looked up his chest to his face and quickly put her hand over her mouth in an attempted to cover her gasp at the sight of Trace. He could tell she thought about shutting the door so he cleared his throat and spoke.

Ma’am. I’m here to see Jay Starler.

Is... is he expecting you?

Yes.

The woman forced a smile, stepped back and motioned him in. Please come in. I’ll show you to him.

Trace kept his frown to himself. The woman was scared enough. Who could blame her though? It’s not every day you see a large, leather-clad biker at your door.

Trace followed the small woman through a large foyer and inside a set of double doors. The living room he presumed. He noted three sets of French doors were open, letting the fresh air in. A curving staircase that disappeared into a darkened hallway cut off his surveillance. His guide then stopped at a large door in the corner of the house and knocked twice.

Come in, a masculine voice called out.

She opened the door and motioned Trace in before silently retreating down the hall.

Trace peered inside before stepping into the office set up with yet another set of French doors leading out to a small patio. They too were open. He frowned briefly.

Just set the coffee down Carol, I’ll get it in a minute.

Trace watched the smaller man hunched over the filing cabinet then smiled hearing the familiar fussing over misplaced items. He allowed a small smirk before he spoke. What? No thank you? Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?

Jay swung around from the filing cabinet and grinned widely. Trace!

Jay rushed over and hugged him tight. Trace returned the gesture then held Jay out at arm’s length. Look at you. Moving up in the world.

Working for a superstar like Madison Jordan doesn’t hurt, Jay replied with a laugh and motioned for Trace to sit in one of the leather chairs across from his own. Carol returned carrying a silver tray covered with dainty cups and saucers, a pot of coffee with all the trimmings and a single, large mug.

Trace looked up at Carol and gave her a nod. She set it on the desk and left without a backward glance.

I think she likes you, Jay said with a chuckle.

Trace grunted. Jay poured the hot liquid into the dainty cup and filled the larger mug for Trace. Enjoying the fresh brew, they talked for a few minutes to catch up on each other’s life.

I was on my way to a long, overdue vacation when you called, Trace said.

I really appreciate you coming.

So you’ve said. About half a dozen times now. What’s the deal?

Typical stalker. What else?

You wouldn’t have called me if it was a typical stalker. I don’t work that and you know it, Uncle Jay.

Jay was silent and lowered his gaze under Trace’s intense stare. He ran his hand through graying hair and nodded. You’re right. It’s more than just a typical stalker. There’ve been two murders.

Trace’s expression didn’t change. He senses kicked into gear and he was suddenly aware of everything in the room. The ticking of the clock behind Jay; the bee that buzzed around the open door; the steam that escaped from each of their cups. He returned his focus back to his uncle. Why call me then? Sounds like a job for the locals to me.

If it were that easy, trust me, I would have called them in. Unfortunately this guy is clever and appears unstoppable.

No one is unstoppable, Trace said.

Jay pulled open a drawer and fished out a packet of papers bound together. He dropped them on the desk with a soft thud. Perhaps this will help.

Trace picked