Her Bodyguard

She watched her brother's face and said, "We shouldn't have done it, but I wanted it. I was just too turned on to stop. Probably you were too."

Camile's eyes searched her brother's face, and she said, "I don't think I can stay here."

3. Be Mine

Colin went back to work after his long weekend, and he resigned. He was surprised when the company made an offer; a promotion with more money, more responsibility and less time in the field. Colin jumped at the opportunity; it was the change he needed.

He got a message from Camile that afternoon while he was settling into a new, larger cubicle near a west window. "I found an apartment. A guy from work is here to help me move." Camile said. She was gone before he even got home.

Colin shelved the last of his groceries and looked around his quiet condo. It was odd how so much had changed in the last month, but so little was different. He closed the cupboards and turned out the kitchen lights.

He was about to turn on the television when his sister called. It wasn't a coincidence that he was thinking about her at the time. He thought about his sister a lot. It was more unusual that Camile called instead of texting her message.

"Can we get together?" Camile asked. "I talked to Joyce. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Maybe too busy to think about her right now," Colin said. It was a lie. "We can get together. I'll buy you coffee or whatever."

A gibbous moon hung overhead when Camile met her brother at a little coffee shop near her apartment. The only empty table was at the front of the shop, so they kept their jackets on to ward off the draft from the window. They sipped their drinks under the shop's fluorescent lights while they talked and watched the sidewalk scene.

"What happened?" Camile asked. "Joyce sounded like you just went different directions."

Colin's new job meant he worked long hours, but he was in town and that gave him a reason to talk to Joyce. She was willing to try again, but it didn't work.

"I'm not sure we were ever going in the same direction," Colin said. "It wasn't until we were together more than one or two days every few weeks that we figured that out." He looked away from his sister to watch people hurry by in the cold outside.

"So you're alone again," Camile said. Her eye's followed Colin's to a couple who argued by the curb. They were lit in pink and yellow tones by the overhead signs and the passing traffic. Their angry words hung in the cold air then disappeared on the breeze.

Colin sipped his coffee and looked over the rim at Camile. "You too?" he asked. He was afraid of how his sister might answer, so he hid his expression behind the cup.

Camile laughed and put her coffee down. "Me too," she said. "The guy that helped me move thought he'd earned something. I didn't let him get anywhere, and he's been bad-mouthing me at work ever since." She laughed and added, "Considering the guys I work with, he's probably doing me a favor."

Something in Camile's voice didn't sound right. Colin glanced out the window again to where the couple had argued by the curb. He found the woman standing alone and maybe that decided what he'd say next. He looked back to his sister and asked, "There's more, isn't there?"

Camile watched her coffee while she turned the cup between her hands. "There's more," she said. "Eric's been texting and calling me for days. He knows where I live." She leaned forward over the table with her eyes on her brother's face. "He says he wants me back, but I don't know if that's dead or alive, or whether that even makes a difference to him."

"Have you called the cops?" Colin asked. "That injunction you had is still in effect, isn't it?"

Camile flipped her hand and said, "I talked to them. They won't do anything until he rapes me, or kills me, or something. Then the injunction will change the charges. That doesn't do me any good."

Colin squirmed on his chair. "Come stay with me," he said. It was a blurt, and he could tell from Camile's expression that it didn't go over well. He wasn't surprised. The warm excitement he found between his sister's legs was fresh in his memory. That night had to be fresh in her memory, too.

"No," Camile said and shook her head. "There's a lot of girls in my building, and we look out for each other. I'll depend on them." Her problem wasn't that she didn't trust her brother. She didn't trust herself.

Colin's coffee was cool. He downed it and asked, "Did you drive here?" Camile answered with a shake of her head. "Then at least let me take you home," he said. "He could be waiting for you."

"I'll let you do that," Camile said. "It's only a couple blocks from here."

Colin saw nothing on the short trip to Camile's apartment that made him feel better. First there was the confused bag lady outside the coffee shop, and then the two guys under a streetlight who finished a deal as he drove by. He parked close to the gated entry to Camile's building and pulled her close while they climbed the steps past a young man in ragged clothes who muttered to voices no-one else could here.

They found the gate unlocked and a note pinned to it that they could barely read under the parking lot lights. It said "Party in 201b. Please leave the gate open."

"Who has a party on Monday night?" Colin asked.

Camile brushed past her brother and led him to her door before she answered. "That's Natasha," she said. "She doesn't have classes tomorrow until after noon." She pushed Colin back. "I don't want you to come in. Why don't you go to Natasha's party. You might meet some horny sophomore to keep you happy."

"I have to get up early," Colin said. He pushed past his sister when she unlocked the door, and he stopped. Camile's apartment was a squalid little studio. The walls were stained. Her unmade bed sat on the floor without a frame under it, and the sink overflowed with unwashed dishes.

Camile didn't wait for her brother to say anything. "I didn't want to pay more," she explained, "And I didn't have time to find a roommate. I'm trying to save as much as I can so when I go to school next fall I won't have to pay for everything with loans. Rents are cheap in the student ghetto, the University shuttles are only a short walk away, and there's a community here."

Colin watched his sister's explanation more than he listened. "This gives me really bad feelings," he said. "I can't imagine that you could be safe here—even if Eric weren't stalking you." He paced around the room to work off his frustration. He knew he couldn't change what Camile was doing. "You have to call me if anything goes wrong," he said. "Anything. I'll get here as fast as I can."

It was late the next afternoon when Camile texted. Colin was in a meeting taking notes on a new project when his phone buzzed. He thought for a moment that he would let it be, but then he thought of Camile.

He straightened his back when he saw her message. "Eric's been texting me from the parking lot all day. He's getting crazier and I need to get to work."

Colin said, "I have a family emergency." He didn't wait for a reaction, much less permission, before he folded his notebook and left the others confused.

He weaved through growing rush-hour traffic, cursed the other drivers, and twenty minutes later he pulled into the parking lot at Camile's building. Colin stopped his car by the security gate and his gut twisted when he found it open. He sprinted down the hall to Camile's apartment and found the door frame shattered and the door hanging on one hinge.

Colin heard, "Let me go!" through the window over the sink. He leaned over the faucet to look out the window and found Eric dragging Camile across the parking lot to his car. She twisted and tried to pull away, but her wrists were cuffed behind her back, and his hand was clamped around her arm.

Colin thought he could block Eric in before he got away. He threw himself back into his car, spun around the building, and screeched to a stop behind Eric's car. Eric glared at Colin then lurched forward over a broken parking barrier, over the sidewalk, and into the street.

Colin yelled at his phone, "Call 911!" and followed Eric over the curb. He floored the gas pedal to catch up and tailed Eric to the freeway on-ramp where traffic was standing still. "My sister's ex-husband took her and I'm chasing. He's crazy. I'm afraid he'll kill her," he explained.

"Do you need medical help? What is your current location?" the operator asked.

Colin answered the operator's questions as well as he could and tried to stay in sight of Eric while they weaved through rush-hour traffic. "We can track your phone," the operator said. "Make sure it stays on."

Afternoon was turning to evening and street lights were blinking on overhead. Headlights glared, horns blared, and Colin's heart pounded in his ears. The first time Colin saw Camile was when she sat up in the back seat. She turned to look back at her brother, and his headlights caught her terrified expression.

Eric's brake lights flashed. He swerved onto the shoulder to get around stopped cars then turned onto an empty road. The road ran along a ditch through trailer parks and undeveloped fields where last summer's grass lay matted under melting snow. Eric pulled over, Colin followed, and the gravel at the side of the road crunched under their tires as they stopped.

Colin told the operator, "He's stopping."

"Stay in the car!" the operator said. "Don't confront him. We have your location and officers are on the way."

Eric's door opened, and Colin said, "He's getting out." Eric leaned back into the car for something that Colin couldn't see. The first thing that Colin did see when Eric turned toward him was the automatic in his belt. He took three steps before Colin noticed the shotgun he was carrying at his side.

Colin told the operator, "I don't think I have a choice but to confront him." Eric stopped in front of the car and Colin watched as if it all happened in slow motion. Eric shouldered the shotgun and brought it to bear. Colin looked up the barrel, and saw Eric's finger tightened on the trigger.

Colin dove to the floor and the shotgun blast shattered the windshield. Pellets and shards of glass ricocheted off the seats and showered around him. The operator shouted to someone at the other end of their connection, "Shots fired!"

Eric dropped the shotgun on the hood of Colin's car and stepped around to the door. Colin squirmed around to see what he was doing. Eric pulled the automatic out of his belt and brought it up in both hands. Colin slammed the door into Eric as hard as he could and knocked the gun aside.

Eric squeezed off three shots; one shattered the window and the other two went into the door, but none hit Colin.

Colin was out of the car and onto Eric before Eric could recover his balance. He whipped the back of his fist across Eric's face then caught his wrist. Eric kicked, pounded at Colin's ribs and the side of his head, and he tried to twist away. Colin shoved Eric back against the car and pinned him down on the hood with his hand on his throat.

Headlights flashed, and sirens screamed. First one police car pulled up behind Colin then two more came down the empty road. Colin twisted the gun out of Eric's hand and dropped it on the ground. Officers jumped from their cars and shielded behind their car doors with their guns drawn, and Colin backed away from Eric with his hands in view.

Eric was confused. He looked first at Colin, and then into one set of headlights and then another. He stumbled away and ran for the dark ditch, but fell headlong down the steep bank and into the cold water.

Two officers went after Eric and the last stayed with his gun on Colin. He looked into the back of Eric's car, found Camile looking back, and said, "This must be our vic."

The police took hours to sort things out, both on the road and at Camile's apartment. They took pictures and collected physical evidence. Reporters came and went. Through most of that time Colin and Camile huddled in the back of a police car because neither was dressed for the cold. They watched from there as the police took Eric away.

The police arranged a ride for them back to Camille's apartment. The manager had nailed the door frame back together and rehung the door, but her apartment was a mess. She dropped on her worn sofa, and Colin sat down beside her. He asked, "What do you want to do? It's late."

"I'm tired and shaky," Camile said and held her trembling hand up for Colin to see. "I need to eat. I meant to eat at work tonight and get groceries after that. I think all I have here is soup and bread."

"That'll do." Colin said. "Let me see your wrist." He caught his sister's hand and turned it to look at her cuff marks. They were bruised and scraped. "Those cuffs really chewed you up," he said.

"That wasn't the first time he cuffed me," Camile said, "But the times before were in bed, you know? He never put them on that tight, and I never fought him that hard."

Camile would have laughed at her brother's expression, but she didn't have the energy. She told him, "Aside from that, my right knee is banged up and I have a bruise on my arm from him dragging me around, but nothings all that bad." She pulled her hand back and touched his face. "Your face looks even funnier than usual. He beat on you pretty hard."

"Yeah?" Colin said. "I haven't looked yet. It's probably a good thing I won't see clients any time soon. I think he got me harder on the ribs, though. They hurt."

Camile wrapped her hands around Colin's bicep and pulled herself close. "Did I ever thank you? Things have been so weird that I don't remember if I did. You know I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, right?"

Colin's nostrils flared as he took in his sister's harsh and sweaty scent. "I look funny and you stink," he said. "But at least we're both here."

Camile pushed herself away with an uncomfortable look on her face. She scrambled off the sofa and said, "You don't smell so great either, bub. I have to pee. Don't go away," like there was someplace he might go.

They shared a can of soup and a few slices of bread with butter. It wasn't much, but it was enough to calm Camile's shakes. She sat down on the edge of her bed after their little dinner was gone and said, "I'm done. You can stay here, or I can give you my car keys. If you take my car, then I need it back before I have to work tomorrow."

Colin looked at the sofa where he expected to sleep and shrugged. It would do. "I'll stay here," he said, "Tomorrow I'll have to figure out how to get home and to work."

Camile was asleep before he even finished his sentence. Colin hunted around the apartment for the light switches. He darkened the apartment then sat down on the sofa and watched Camile by the light from the parking lot. He wanted his sister warm; he wanted her safe. Colin barely disturbed her when he climbed into her bed. He wrapped Camile in his arms, pulled her to spoon against him, and fell asleep.

Colin was eye-to-eye with his sister when he woke in the morning. His first reaction was to draw back, but she followed. Camile pulled herself close, and he could feel her warm breath on his neck. He was confused as much as he was suddenly aroused.

"I didn't think we'd be waking up together again. I like it," Camile said and wrinkled her nose. "Despite the stubble and that breath."

Colin shook his head and pushed Camile back. He sat up on the side of her bed with his head in his hands. "Oh God! What is this, Wednesday?" he asked. He could already tell that he was late for work, and he sifted through his memories for anything important that he'd already missed.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Camile said. She groaned, sat up beside her brother, and used his shoulder to climb out of bed. "The restaurant is going to be mobbed tonight."

Colin was already calling his office when he asked Camile, "Can you give me a ride home? I'll shower and change then take an Uber or something from there."

"No problem," Camile said. She scrolled through some pages on her phone then stopped the screen and held it up to her brother. "If you need a good excuse for that face and all, then here's our story. I'll need to show it to my manager, or he probably won't believe me." The story she showed him featured a picture of Colin's car with its blown-in windows.

Colin was three hours late to work. He didn't have trouble explaining his problem, but he needed to work late to stay on schedule. The afternoon light angled through the west windows, and the office was starting to empty when his phone buzzed with a message from Camile. "They won't let me wait tables," she said. "I'm going to your place."

Camile didn't explain herself, and Colin didn't have time for an explanation. "Okay," he said. "I'll get there late. I can bring pizza for dinner." He was leaving work before he thought much more about having Camile at his place. His cock stirred and his foot pushed the gas a little harder.

Ice was freezing on the streets before Colin parked the company truck at home, and dense little snowflakes swirled in the air. He set the pizza on the kitchen table and found his sister asleep in his bed. He turned on the bedside lamp so he could see. She curled among his sheets with her hand between her thighs.

Camile stirred when Colin sat down on the edge of his bed. She rolled over and smiled. "It's cozy here," she said.

"Pizza's on the table," Colin said. "Why wouldn't they let you work tonight? Wasn't it supposed to be jammed for Valentine's Day?"

Camile held her wrists up so Colin could see. They were both wrapped in gauze bandages. "I tried not to limp on the banged-up knee and wore long sleeves to hide the bruise on my arm," she said, "But I had to hide the cuff marks with bandages.

"The manager said customers would be uncomfortable if they thought I cut my wrists. I took them off, and he didn't like that either—they're like all red and purple. So I helped set up then got out of the way. The girls working tonight might hate me, but their tips should be good."

Camile threw the bed clothes aside and winced a little when she lifted her legs over the side of the bed to sit beside Colin. He watched and said, "Your message didn't say why you were coming over, and I didn't have time to ask."

"I came to do my laundry," Camile said. She laughed at the disappointed look on her brother's face and told the truth. "Okay, bozo, I'm lying." Camile plucked at the shirt she was wearing. "I'm wearing your unwashed shirt. I was just sleeping in your sheets with my face mashed into your pillow." She wrapped her hand around her brother's arm, leaned into him, and said, "I came here for you."

Colin squirmed to get his sister's weight off his bruised side. "So what changed?" he asked. "I made you feel dirty the first time."

"I've had a month to think about it," Camile said. "It wasn't you. It was me. Something made it hard for me to admit that I actually liked something that naughty. Then there was yesterday, and I woke up in the middle of the night with you wrapped around me. I wanted to get dirty all over again."

Camile used Colin's shoulder to push herself off the bed. "But right now I'm starved," she said. "I need to eat. We can get naughty later."

The dining table was dimly lit by the light that angled in from the kitchen. Camile threw the pizza box open, looked into the shadow inside, and said, "Eew, just pepperoni?" That didn't seem to stop her. She did get slowed down because the slices were badly cut, and she had to tear them apart. "Would you get me a knife?" she asked.

They sat close together in front of the box to eat, and at first they stuffed their mouths too fast to talk. When they slowed down Colin said, "If I thought ahead I could have gotten you something for Valentine's Day—at least a card."