The Bodyguard

Closing the door behind him, he quickly stripped off for a shower. The image of Rebecca leaning out of the window remained strong in his mind. His cock twitched again. Shaking his head, he refused to touch himself. He wouldn't. He'd resisted wanking to her this far. He wouldn't break that barrier now.

But, a wicked voice whispered to him,just imagine if you were behind her in that room. If she'd leaned out as she did, with her peachy ass just there. How it would be to lift that t-shirt and ram your cock into her hot, wet pussy. Deep and hard from behind. How she'd moan, her tits bouncing under the shirt as you pounded her. How you could grab her hair and ride her cunt until you filled her with your cum.

"Fuck!" Logan shouted to his empty room.

Ignoring the voice and his now raging erection, Logan aggressively twisted the shower control and stepped under the cold jets.

No, I won't do it, he argued with himself as goose bumps prickled his skin.Only a few more weeks and she'll be out of my life forever. Come on, man, keep your head in the game.

Logan remained under the cold spray until he felt more in control again. His stomach rumbled as he dressed and headed to find food.

In the kitchen, Simon and Rebecca were laughing. They sat opposite each other at the breakfast bar. Bowls of cereal and fruit spread between them.

"What about grapes?" Rebecca asked as she snapped one from a bunch and popped it into her mouth.

"Grapes would work, yeah," Simon grinned back at her.

Logan remained silent despite wanting to know what they were talking about. Or maybe he didn't. Fortunately, Simon noticed Logan enter and his professional mask slipped back in place.

"Boss," he nodded as he stood.

"Si," Logan nodded in return, "if you're finished your breakfast, I can take it from here."

"Sure thing, see you later, Bex."

"Bye, Simon."

Logan watched their interaction as he collected a bowl and prepared himself breakfast porridge. As he waited for the microwave to ping, he felt the tension in the room grow and wondered if he should engage Rebecca in conversation. However, small talk wasn't a strong point of his.

The finishing ping filled the silence and Logan still hadn't figured out what to say. He took the hot bowl and sat at the kitchen table, as usual, instead of at the bar. He noticed Rebecca glance at him and regretted not taking Simon's seat. He wasn't making the friction easier.

As he took his first mouthful, Rebecca scraped her stool back. Logan half-watched, expecting her to leave the room. Instead, she walked over to the table and took the seat opposite him. He met her gaze with surprise.

"Logan, can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Of course," he gulped his food down.

"Have you heard from my father at all? Any headway?"

"Sorry, Miss Forde, I'd let you know as soon I did. There's been no more communication in the last two weeks."

"Simon mentioned that he'd be collecting the groceries today. I could ride with him. I won't get out of the car and I can wear a disguise. Just being out of this house and..."

"No."

He watched Rebecca close her eyes as if counting to ten.

"Can I go for a run around the perimeter, it's been checked and it's safe, right?"

"I didn't know you ran. You've never asked before."

"I don't, I'm not a runner. But I'm going mad being stuck inside."

"You're not trapped inside. You can go on the lawn."

"Great."

"I know it's not..."

"No, you don't know," Rebecca snapped, surprising Logan again. "You're not living under the same conditions as I am, and you can't pretend you are.You can leave, go get supplies, go into society.You can contact your loved ones when you choose.You don't know."

"Miss Forde..."

"Rebecca! It's Rebecca or Bex! I am not my father's daughter, not as you think I am. I am myself, I am Rebecca. Why can't you understand this?"

"It's not that I don't understand..."

"I know, it's about you being professional. God, I know."

"I'm sorry this is tough on you. I keep hoping for a message from your father that this is all over too."

Rebecca shook her head in defeat and stared towards the window. Logan glanced at his cooling breakfast but didn't resume eating. He expected her to stand and leave. Instead, she took a deep breath and met his gaze square on.

"I need shampoo. And I want a laptop. And before you say no, I don't care if it's not connected to the internet. I want one to write on, and with full office software."

"Why?" Logan blurted before he could stop himself. "Sorry, it's none of my business. I'll get one sorted for you. Anything else?"

Rebecca paused. Her lips parted as if to speak, then closed again. A deep flush crept over her cheeks as she shook her head. Logan raised an eyebrow. Intrigue caught him. He was certain she wanted to ask for something else.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she breathed as she stood, "I won't be stuck here much longer. The laptop will be fine."

Logan nodded and took another mouthful as Rebecca left. She'd definitely wanted to ask for something and he wondered why she didn't. His wondering dissolved as other team members bustled in wanting food.

~*~*~

Rebecca smiled at the shiny new laptop that now sat on the dressing table-turned-desk in her bedroom. Logan had appeared at her door with the boxed laptop late in the afternoon.

She had struggled today more than any of the previous days. She'd nearly cried as she'd sat in the middle of the lawn, alone, with nothing to do. Even the gentle sun couldn't brighten up her mood.

She'd tried to read but that pleasure had been exhausted during the first few weeks. She was bored of playing on the gaming console by herself. And her mind was melting with ideas that pen and paper couldn't keep up with. Ideas she could now get out. Enterprise ideas, life aspiration ideas, even writing ideas.

Before she'd disappeared from her life, she'd recently become business partners with Tess, pooling their creativity and resources. During that fateful lunch, they'd been finalising their business plan ready to pitch to a list of potential vendors the following day. The thought of leaving Tess in the lurch dimmed Rebecca's happiness. Shaking her head, she knew she couldn't dwell on that now. There was nothing she could do about it. She had to focus on here and now and be ready to pick up the pieces when she finally returned home. And she'd get her father to pay for whatever financial dent his choices had made in her life.

As she explored the software installed, a knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," she called.

Logan entered, holding the door.

"You missed dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

Logan paused, glancing behind him to leave. He didn't move. "Is that good enough for what you need?"

"It's perfect, thank you, Logan."

"No internet, though."

"I'll manage."

Logan hesitated another moment, then nodded and left.

Alone again, Rebecca breathed deeply, trying to regulate the aching between her legs. The damned man could affect her too easily and her growing frustration made it worse. She glanced back to the empty screen. The untouched laptop, waiting to be used. Without overthinking her actions, her fingers slid across the mousepad and opened a new blank page.

Her fingers began typing. Words flowed from her. Sentences formed. Paragraphs grew. The fire in her veins fuelled her words as she threw herself into fantasy land.

By the time she stopped, darkness had fallen, and the screen glowed in the room. Blinking hard, Rebecca let tiredness come. She shut the laptop and fell into bed.

Four hours later, Rebecca scrambled to sit in bed, gasping. She tried to recall the nightmare but it was already dissolving away. Only the ice down her spine remained. The door hadn't swung open as it had the previous night, so she assumed she didn't cry out.

It was just a nightmare, she repeated to herself as she trudged to the bathroom to splash water on her face. Looking at her reflection, she couldn't deny that her disturbed sleep was making her look hollow. Dark circles were threatening under her eyes. Her skin looked sallow under the light.

She used to sleep at least seven hours a night, no matter how hard she partied. On week two here, that had begun to slip. She had all the time in the world to sleep yet her body began to refuse. Seven hours had become six. Six became five. Then it came in fits and starts. And now the nightmares had begun. Maybe she needed to ask Logan for sleeping tablets before it really impacted her health.

Slipping into her silk wrap, Rebecca entered the hallway. Simon almost leapt from his seat.

"Bex, is everything ok?"

"Yeah, just another nightmare. I can't sleep again so I thought I'd get a bite to eat."

Simon nodded and followed her to the kitchen.

"Do you want me to reheat some dinner for you?" He asked.

"No, I can sort myself out, thanks," Rebecca laughed, "I'm capable of looking after myself."

"I didn't mean it like that, I just thought if you were tired..."

"Thank you, Simon, you're thoughtful, but please, you're not here to wait on me. You get on with whatever your job is."

"My job is to make sure you're comfortable."

"And safe." A voice interrupted.

Both Simon and Rebecca looked to see Logan in the doorway. Simon hurriedly agreed and set about checking the windows were locked and secure. Rebecca threw Logan an unamused look.

"I'm pretty sure this place could rival Alcatraz," she said.

"You're not a prisoner."

"Aren't I?"

Rebecca didn't wait for Logan's response as she peered into the tall fridge, using the door to block him from her view. After taking a handful of Tupperware, she closed the door and carried them to the breakfast bar. Logan still stood there.

"I thought you were finished with night duties now," she said, glancing at his clothed body.

"I am, though it takes a few days to turn my body clock. Why are you up? Did you hear something again? I didn't get an alarm," Logan shot Simon a questioning look.

"No, it was just a nightmare...I think I need sleeping pills. I can't seem to sleep properly anymore."

"I'm not sure about that."

"What do you mean, you're not sure?"

"It's medication, not prescribed and it's risky in case of side effects that will need medical attention."

"I've taken sleeping pills before. They're just over the counter ones, not prescribed."

"It doesn't matter."

"Seriously?"

"Miss Forde..."

"It's Bex, goddammit!"

Rebecca's self-control exploded and her hand swung viciously at the containers on the counter sending them flying. Tears threatened and she hurried from the kitchen, not wanting anyone to see them. Her feet jumped the stairs two at a time and though she tried not to slam the bedroom door, it still closed hard.

On her bed, she let herself crumble. Tears that had been gathering for weeks. Once they started, she couldn't stop them. Her body shook as each sob ripped through her. She didn't hear the door open and close, though she felt the bed sag and the hand on her shoulder. She assumed it was Simon and wasn't ready to acknowledge him yet.

Eventually, the tears abated. The hand offered a tissue and she took it. Rebecca took control of her breathing again and shifted to sit. Beside her sat Logan.

"I'm sorry," he said as he held out another tissue.

Rebecca winced at his words. She almost apologised in return, but the words stuck in her throat. She couldn't apologise for how she felt.

Growing conscious of how close he was, and on her bed no less, Rebecca swung off the bed and sat on the desk chair across the room, noticing Logan's frown.

"I don't know what you expect me to say or do," Rebecca shook her head.

"I don't expect anything."

"I'm going mad here. I don't know if I can take it much longer."

"You're stronger than you think."

"You don't know me," Rebecca snorted, "you won't even call me by my name."

"I know you do Pilates three times a week and that it must be frustrating to not have that outlet. I know you like Swedish crime thriller novels, and that your favourite meal is spaghetti carbonara."

"You know what you've read on social media or what my father thinks. You don't know that I'm so fucking angry at my dad for putting me in this position. You don't know what I'm risking by being here, that literally on the day you pulled me here I was about to kick start a business with my best friend. A friend who's now left swimming in the deep end on her own because of whatever shit my so-called dad has pulled. And you don't know that I feel so alone here. There's all of you, your team, your buddies. And then there's me in the corner. Trying to keep quiet. And I miss company so much. I miss..."

Tears welled again as Rebecca shook her head, biting her lip.

"I..."

"No," Rebecca stood and paced, "I don't need to hear your bullshit about how this will be over soon. I know it will, I'm not stupid. But right here, right now, I still feel like I'm drowning in nothing."

"Rebecca."

Logan spoke so softly that she almost missed it. Wiping at her cheeks, she looked at him.

"I'm sorry you feel so alone. We'll try harder. I'll try harder."

"I can't sleep."

"I'll see what I can do to get the pills you've used before."

"Thank you."

"I should go now."

"Logan?"

"Yes?"

"Would you stay with me, just...be here? With me?"

Logan briefly closed his eyes as his head bowed. Lifting his chin again, his eyes sought hers.

"I can't, not here. I'm sorry, it's against protocol. You can return downstairs, though."

Rebecca shook her head. Of course, it's against the rules. She knew it would be. Turning her back, she dismissed him. A moment later, she heard the door close. Alone again, she removed her wrap and climbed into bed.

~*~*~

"I'm going for a run, I'll check the perimeter again," Logan said as he entered the control room where Charlie sat.

"Now? In the dark?"

"Yeah, I can't sleep. Kill two birds with one stone."

"Ok, Boss."

As Logan began to sprint, he hoped that no-one was really paying close attention. Twice in twenty-four hours was a bit too obvious, even to him. Pent up energy, or in his case -- frustration -- was a dangerous thing. It made people trigger happy. He needed to get this under control properly. He couldn't be running every time he got too wound up.

The ground crunched under his pounding feet. He pushed himself harder, faster, as his eyes got used to the dark. Focussing on regulating his breathing meant being less able to think about Rebecca. His thigh muscles burned and it felt good.

It took two circuits before Logan felt able to say enough. Yet another cold shower. Yet another refusal to indulge. Relief washed over him as he lay down, knowing sleep was close.

When he woke, it was daylight. As usual, he'd woken two minutes before his alarm was due to ring. A lifetime of discipline worked well for him, though the early years of being raised by a military dad had threatened to send him off the rails. Fortunately, his mother had balanced out the strictness of his dad and he'd managed to see the love and good intentions of his father. In the end, rebelling had looked less appealing. Still, he'd been surprised that his dad had accepted this career path instead of joining the military.

He'd learned so many skills over the years. But never had he had to learn how to handle attraction to someone in his care. Even the stunning Miss Carter last year hadn't stirred anything. Of a similar age to Rebecca, and an actual model, he could appreciate all her charm and beauty without attachment. Or Mrs Bridges four years ago. At age forty-four, she'd exuded all the sex goddess allure that one woman could possess. And she'd tried to seduce him. He'd felt nothing but a bit embarrassed. She'd ended up sneaking into his bed, naked, and so very eager. And still, he hadn't felt a fraction of the desire he held for Rebecca.

Forgoing breakfast, Logan checked in with his team before taking the Range Rover. Passing the first three towns, he hit the motorway. Six junctions later, he turned off and made his way to a sleepy village through many winding roads.

Eventually, he reached the gated community. Showing his pass, the guard granted him access. Logan took the first fork in the road and followed it to the end. Another gate forced him to stop. He pressed the call button and waited.

"Identify yourself," the crackly voice demanded.

"Logan Hunt".

"Hold your ID badge to the screen."

Logan complied and the gate slowly opened. He killed the engine at the steps of the house's grand entrance. Before he reached the top, one of the excessively large doors opened. The doorman informed him to wait in the room to the left.

As he waited, Logan moved around the room, wondering if this had been Rebecca's childhood house. There were no personal pictures here. No family portraits. He reckoned his parent's home could fit into a sixth of this building. They'd not been poor, not like some of his friends. Still, this was another world.

Time ticked on. Logan glanced at his watch twice. As he wandered, he passed the rear windows overlooking the manicured gardens. Mr Forde stood laughing with two other men, croquet mallets in hand.

Logan's anger flared. This had been an arranged appointment. He had no doubt that Mr Forde knew he was here, waiting. Yet there he was, laughing and socialising with his buddies as if there were no care in the world. As if Rebecca wasn't stuck in what was essentially a cage. For her protection because of his actions.

His jaw set as he counted to ten. He wanted nothing more than to storm out there and demand the wealthy man's attention. But he knew better. Wealth brought games, no matter how fucked up. Mr Forde had the ability to fatally wound his company if he chose. Logan had to be professional to the end.

Thankfully, the final hoop was played, and the men approached the house. Backs were slapped, hands were shaken. Logan heard the two men bidding farewell with promises of bettering their game next time. He took another deep breath and moved back toward the centre of the room.

"Mr Hunt, thank you for waiting."

"Friends?" Logan jerked his head towards the exiting men.

"Yes."

"Do they know?"

"No," Mr Forde waved his hand in the air, "I'm trying to act normally. We usually have a weekly match on a Tuesday, and it got changed to today. I thought it best to go with it and cause less questions."

"Have your investigators managed to find a solution yet?"

"Not yet."

"Do you have a longer-term plan for what your children are to do?"

"Not yet. There's still two weeks to go, as we agreed. Why? Are you having a problem with Rebecca? I knew she'd have trouble keeping hidden and quiet. She was always a wild child, that one. Are you sure she's not managed to smuggle in a mobile phone? Have you been monitoring social media for activity from her? I'm still expecting her to blow up this arrangement and having to ship her elsewhere and start again. Did she..."

"Miss Forde is fine," Logan cut through Mr Forde's rant, not wanting to hear any more of his poor opinion of his daughter. "She's doing well, all things considering. Of course, she's not used to being cut off from the world and that'd be the same for most people. She's no trouble at all."

Mr Forde pulled his face back, almost squinting as he tried to detect lies. A shrug set his features back to normal.

"I'll be back in two weeks, as set, unless I hear from you otherwise," Logan said as they shook hands and Logan handed over the Range Rover keys.

Leaving the room, Logan took a left down the hallway and out onto the patio. Following the path to the furthest end of the garden, he found the off-road bike he'd expected. Turning the key, he rode over the fields on a now-familiar route to a remote pub three miles away. It was too early for the business to be open and so the only vehicle sat in the carpark was an SUV. Confident that he was alone, Logan swapped vehicles, leaving the keys to the bike under a nearby wall stone, as planned. He knew that the off-road bike would be returned, and that the Rover would be waiting to be collected in two days' time at a different pub.