Hillbilly Rockstar (3 page)

“In four and a half months you'll be within a week of permanent status. You take on this job, I'll give you that last week.”

“Sorry, but no. I'll pass.”

Joe and Garrett exchanged another look.

“What now?”

“This information doesn't leave this room. The promoter has
sweetened the pot. There's a hundred-thousand-dollar bonus if the bodyguard lasts the entire tour. So if you agree to take this assignment, in addition to getting paid your regular rate, we'll let you keep the bonus.”

She perked up at that prospect. “Seriously? Every penny?”

“Every penny, and I'll kick in enough to cover the taxes on it.”

That money would provide a hefty down payment on a house. Roughly four months out of her life would make her dream of home ownership a reality, and she'd get experience in the field that would increase her base pay rate. Win-win.

“Deal.”

Joe slapped a twenty-dollar bill on the desk. “You suck.”

Garrett swept the money into his desk drawer. “I warned you not to bet against me, Joe.”

“What the hell kinda bet did you two make about me?” Liberty demanded.

“That you'd be more interested in the money than living in close quarters with one of
People
magazine's hottest men in music.”

Liberty rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Joe? You haven't learned anything about me in the past eight months? I oughta make you pony up twenty to me for the damn insult.”

Joe grinned. “I almost wish I was going along to see you bust this guy's balls on a daily basis.” He leaned forward and pleaded with Garrett. “Please let me be the one to tell our client that Liberty is his new bodyguard.”

“Fine, but you'd also better warn him that Liberty is . . .” Garrett laughed. “Never mind. He can figure it out for himself.”

On the way out, Garrett stopped her. “The head of the promotion company was very clear in this offer. McClain isn't to know anything about the
performance bonus. If you tell him about it, it voids that part of the contract.”

“My lips are sealed. I promise.”

“I know I can trust you.”

“But I don't know if I can trust them.”

Garrett waited for her explanation.

“We both know they'll pay you at regular intervals while I'm on
assignment. So I want their guarantee that I'll have that bonus no later than three days
after
the end of the tour. I don't want to wait ninety days while they dick around about payment.”

He smiled. “Excellent point. Are you sure I can't talk you into takin' an admin position when your probationary period is up?”

“Do I still get to Taser people from behind a desk?”

“No.”

“Then no way.”

W
hat the hell was taking them so long?

Devin fought the urge to get up and pace; instead he focused his frustration on his agent. “All of JT's expenses are bein' taken care of, right? Including transportation back home so he can recuperate?”

“The legal team wants to run it past accounting—”

“I didn't ask about the legal team. They weren't in that hospital room. They didn't see the damn bloodstains on my bed. The man took hits that were meant for me—”

“Don't say that,” his agent warned. “Neither you nor the tour promotion company is claiming any culpability for the attack. I know you're upset, but this situation is a lawsuit waiting to happen. We don't need any more ammo fired at us.”

Carl Carlson, the head honcho from Big Sky Promotions, nodded. “You just go right on telling folks that the beefed-up security is a requirement of headlining as one of the hottest solo tickets in country music. Remember, we're allowing this meeting at your request. Be warned, son. I will overrule you if they don't propose a security plan that I approve of one hundred percent.”

“That woman already gave us all the answers to our questions about security problems.”

“No. She gave us the tape to fix the leaks, but we still need someone
keeping watch so no more unexpected leaks show up. Console yourself with the fact we're not demanding two bodyguards.”

“Fine. But I'd better have a different goddamn tour bus in four days, when we leave for Salt Lake City.” It'd been humiliating enough having his name and his face plastered on his bus—he'd always hated that—but it really chapped his ass that anyone would believe he actually
wanted
that blatant promotion.

The door opened and the GSC trio walked in.

Devin tried to keep his focus on Tanna's brother, but his gaze kept landing on Liberty, the ballbuster, which annoyed him; the chick was nothing special to look at. She wore shapeless monochrome clothing, her angular face was free of makeup and her eyes were a nearly colorless gray. He wasn't even certain of her hair color since she'd plastered it to her head and secured it in a bun.

Garrett's associate Joe, a bruiser the size of a small truck, took the reins. “As you're aware, we don't normally contract for such an extended amount of time, but we've figured out a way to make it work.”

Devin knew the only reason GSC had taken this appointment was because of his friendship with Tanna. “And I appreciate that.”

“Luckily for you, our security specialist has agreed to take the job.”

“Who?”

“Me.”

Oh no. Oh,
fuck
no. Devin looked at the woman and found her staring back at him . . . with zero emotion. His mouth opened before his brain engaged. “You seriously think I'll let a woman protect me? That goes against the way I was raised and everything I believe in. Men protect women, not the other way around.”

“You wanted discreet security,” Garrett pointed out. “And Liberty is the best possible solution.”

“You do have a lot of women hanging around, Dev. No one would think twice about her bein' there,” Crash added.

“Does she
look
like the women who hang around my shows?” Devin snapped. “No one in their right mind would ever believe I'd be with a woman like her.”

That brought a flush to Liberty's cheeks, and Devin felt like a dick for saying it—even when it was true.

“Devin, can you not jump to conclusions?” his agent asked. “This sounds to me like the ideal solution.”

“Tryin' to pass her off as my girlfriend?”

“We were thinking more along the lines of a personal assistant,” Garrett said.

“That theory will be blown when she's conferring with the event security, wearing an earpiece and holstering a firearm under her business suit. Or if she perceives a threat and pulls a gun, because she—and no offense, sweetheart—looks awful trigger-happy.”

She set her forearms on the table. “You have no idea how true that statement is. But right now the person I'd be gunning for most is you,
sweetheart
.” Then she smiled.

Holy shit. The smile completely transformed her face—but Devin wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing because the grin straddled the line between sexy and evil.

“I know it's hard for you to keep your morbid sense of humor in check, Liberty, but please try,” Garrett drawled.

That wasn't exactly a reprimand from her boss. Christ. The woman had threatened to shoot him. Had no one caught that?

Devin bristled. “I'm not joking when I say that you're not even close to my type.”

“I assure you, Mr. McClain, you're no more my type than I am yours.”

“Does your type have breasts and a vagina too?” It slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Rather than bristle, she looked at each of the men beside her. They seemed . . . amused. Or maybe slightly scared of what she might do or say next.

“I'm not a lesbian—not that it would matter if I were. I'm very good at my job, but I see you've got too much ego to find that out for yourself. I doubt it's your naturally protective male instincts telling you that it's a crime against nature to hire me, but more your testosterone-laden fear that someone—your fans, your friends, your family in Wyoming, your
way-hotter-than-me female groupies—will think less of you for having to hire security at all.”

It pissed him off that she already had his number. If she could read him that well, how quickly could she assess a potentially dangerous situation? “Go on.”

“People want a piece of you. People think they know you through your music. While ninety-nine percent of your fans are just normal, everyday people who love music, it's my job to be concerned about that other one percent who boarded the crazy train. And, honestly, if it's only about appearances for you, wouldn't you rather people know it takes only one butch woman to protect you instead of two former linebackers? That makes you look badass, not weak.”

Damn. This woman was really, really good.

So he shocked the shit out of her by saying, “So much for my theory that you're the
fade into the background with your mouth shut
type.”

“Only when it's warranted, sir.”

Devin directed his question to Garrett just to see if she'd become outwardly indignant. “Has she ever saved someone's life?”

“Absolutely. She's a bona fide hero,” Joe inserted with pride. “Two years ago, while serving in Afghanistan, she took three bullets as part of a security detail. The intended target was . . . ?”

“An ambassador to the UN,” she supplied.

“Did you know him?” Devin asked.

“No. But that didn't matter because I did my job—which was protecting him.”

“Liberty received an honorable discharge.” Garrett paused. “If you have any further questions, please address Liberty directly.”

“Fine.” Devin locked his gaze to Liberty's and said, “Everyone out. I want to talk with G.I. Jane one-on-one.”

After the door closed and they were alone, Devin said, “No offense. I really don't want to hire you. Not because you're a woman, but because I don't want to hire anyone.”

“I'm aware of that.”

“You should also know that I'm not sexist, but—”

“In my experience, men who say that usually are sexist.”

He fought a sigh. “You don't give an inch, do you?”

She maintained eye contact. “After spending more than a dozen years in the military, I'm good at doing what I'm told. But I was also in a position of command, so when I issue an order, I expect it to be followed. I suspect you're not the type to follow orders—from men or women.”

G.I. Jane had definitely hit the nail on the head. Devin scrubbed his hands over his face. “Look. I'm not an asshole.”

“In my experience, men who say that—”

“Usually are assholes. Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He paused, needing to take a different, less antagonistic tack with her. “How'd you know I'm from Wyoming? Did you read my bio?”

“No. My sister lives outside of Muddy Gap.”

“Who's your sister?”

“Harper Turner.”

His jaw dropped. “Are you fuckin' serious? Hot, sexy beauty queen Harper is your sister?”

“Hard to believe, isn't it?” she said with a hint of humor. “Harper got the looks in our family and our little sister Bailey got the brains.”

“What did you get?”

“Resolve.”

Not the answer he expected.

As they stared at each other across the table, ready to battle, Devin realized her eyes weren't a boring hue, but almost a shimmery silver.

What the fuck? Since when do you give a shit about her eye color? Focus.
“What now?”

“How about you listen to my stipulations before I hear yours? We can go from there.”

He motioned for her to bring it.

“If you hire me, I will be by your side 24/7. I have one job: your bodyguard. I don't fetch coffee. I don't cook. I don't clean your tour bus. I don't chauffeur you around. I don't wash your clothes. I don't run errands. I don't mix drinks. I don't answer your fan mail. I don't procure groupies for you
to fuck. I don't get on my knees and suck you off. I'm not paid to kiss your ass; I'm paid to protect it.”

No confusion on her job expectations.

“Now, what were your concerns?” she said frostily.

“You're a little prickly, aren't you?”

“If you'd dealt with as many pricks as I have over the years, you'd know some of that attitude was bound to rub off on me.”

He laughed. “Well, my set of conditions is a bit different. You protect me, but you don't get to judge me. I like women, I like sex and I have a lot of both. I'm up late, which means I sleep late, but that don't mean I'm lazy. I work out at least every other day, so you need to keep up. That said, I need time alone to write, and the only time that happens is when I'm on my tour bus. I'll be one hundred percent safe while we're traveling down the road, so during that time, you'll need to entertain yourself.”

“Not a problem.”

“My biggest stipulation is that you can't tell anyone you're my bodyguard, especially your sister. I don't need this spread among my friends in Muddy Gap.”

“GSC is discreet and professional. I have nondisclosure agreements with them, and I'm fully prepared to sign them with you. I don't talk about my work with anyone.”

“I appreciate that. Now, here's my final concern. Crash will tell everyone associated with the tour that you're my new personal assistant. However, when you store your stuff in my tour bus, no one is gonna believe it. They'll assume we're fucking. Will that be a problem for you?”

She shook her head. “I don't care about anything except doing my job.”

Devin raised an eyebrow. “Even if it means I'll parade groupies past you?” he countered. “You prepared for the questions from my bandmates? You don't care if they think you're a star fucker? You can honestly act like you don't give a shit who I fuck as long as I'm givin' it to you on a regular basis? Because in my past experiences, no woman ever deals well with that.”

That gave her pause. Then she offered him that evil smile. “Maybe since I'm a more . . . masculine-acting woman—your words, not mine, Mr.
McClain—that means I proudly embrace the same I-don't-give-a-damn attitude that men do when it comes to casual sex.”

“You gonna toss my knee-jerk comment about your physical attributes in my face every chance you get?”

Liberty cocked her head. “Yep. You wouldn't have said it if you didn't mean it, which means you have to accept that I won't forget it. You're used to saying whatever pops into your head, and I doubt anyone ever calls you out on it. Be warned: I will.”

“So noted.”

“And I don't shy away from asking what I need to know.”

“Such as?”

“When was your last relationship that lasted longer than a box of condoms?”

He refused to let her get a rise out of him. “Four years ago.”

“Then no one is expecting you to suddenly become monogamous.”

“True.” He took a sip of his cold coffee. “But I'll expect you to look like the type of woman I'd hire. Or have in my bed.”

She scowled. “What does Devin McClain's type look like?”

“Not that.” He gestured to her outfit. “Wearing a getup like that will be a dead giveaway that you're not who you claim to be. And I'm not all right with that. You shouldn't be either. Darlin', you gotta blend.”

Instead of bristling, she nodded. “Understood. But I won't wear constricting clothing. I can't run in high heels. My gun needs to be accessible at all times.”

“Will you always be carrying?”

“It'll depend on the situation. But, yes, I'll either have a handgun or a stun gun on my person, which is standard in the personal-protection business regardless of your gender or mine.”

Devin didn't want this—he truly felt he didn't need it. But in the case of picking the lesser of two evils, he'd choose her. He managed a smile. “You're hired. I play Denver tonight and Cheyenne tomorrow night. The tour leaves in three days. See that you're ready.”

“I will be. And thank you.” She pushed back from the table. “I'll bring
the others back in so you all can iron out the final details.” She slipped out the door.

He closed his eyes. Given how much they'd butted heads in the past hour, he'd better stock up on headache medicine.

After a minute, the chair next to him squeaked, but he kept his eyes closed. His agent said, “Everything all right?”

“I guess.”

“Choosing her is the smart move, Devin.”

Like they'd given him a choice. “Why? Because I'm not attracted to her in the least?”