I have to keep my mind away from her delicate collarbone and the narrowness of her waist, even though when I'm alone in the dark my hand and my cock have other ideas.
I shake my head as I stand, glancing at the girl I'm being paid to care for as she unclips her seatbelt and reaches for her purse.
"Just give us a moment," I say softly. Luna nods, her long lashes lowering as though she's growing tired of never being able to do anything in a straightforward way.
The perils of celebrity.
Some people get used to it, and others just can't take it.
The airline staff are in contact with personnel on the ground. Somewhere out there the limousine for Luna and the accompanying vehicles are waiting. All we have to do is get her safely from point A to point B.
It should be easy, but I never underestimate a single part of my job. I never underestimate how bad people can be because I know the truth from my own life. When a person experiences violence as a child, there can never be any innocence for them about the horrors of the world. I rub my hand over my shoulder, where my scars are the worst. Those fuckers left me with damage, but no one has gotten close since.
Pain can provide us with valuable lessons.
I use my lessons so that no one in my care ever experiences the kind of pain that scarred me.
Mo is the first by the door. His jet-black eyes find mine and a quick nod tells me he's ready. Instinct drives him to check his firearm, but local law prevents us from carrying any weapons while we are here. None of us will have anything other than our extensive physical combat training.
It's not our first time traveling to Berlin or being in an environment where we don't have guns at our disposal. It will be Luna's first time being anywhere without firearms protection since her fame has drawn the wrong kind of attention. I hope it doesn't worry her. I've been careful not to mention it in front of her.
I grab the large umbrella that I carry everywhere. It ensures that my client is always dry and that I have a weapon hidden in plain sight. I know it sounds very James Bond, but I have had this particular umbrella crafted with an exceptionally strong steel pole and a very pointed tip.
Half of my team leaves the plane first, then Luna and me, then the rest. We make quick work of the VIP security area and then hustle her into the waiting limousine. Ben does all the vehicle checks. I know he's the most meticulous because of what happened to him in Iraq. Pain left its mark on him too.
Elijah and I ride with Luna. Mo sits next to the driver. The rest of the crew ride in an SUV behind our vehicle.
As we take our seats, Luna reaches for a crystal glass from the bar and pours herself two inches of whisky. My eyebrow shoots up, but I don't say anything. It's not my place to question the client, no matter how much I want to.
As she raises the glass to her lips, her green eyes meet mine.
There's a challenge there in their emerald depths.
She wants me to tell her that she shouldn't. She wants me to question her judgment so she can push back.
I know this girl.
"You want some?" she asks, knowing full well that I won't drink on the job.
"I'm Irish," I say. "We drink that for breakfast. But not while I'm working."
"Alcohol is the work of the devil," Mo says from the front.
"Hell must be one big party." Luna takes a long swig of the amber-colored liquid but can't quite swallow it all.
"If you keep knocking on the devil's door, at some point he's going to open up." Elijah is staring out of the window, his arm resting along the window ledge as though he's relaxed, but I can tell from the way his fingers are twitching that he's not. When he starts delving into bible stuff, things aren't good. He joined the military to escape the cult he grew up in. The thing is, you can leave your past behind, but it's still curled up inside you in one way or another.
"Isn't that the point of knocking on any door?" Luna says, finishing her drink and slamming the glass down a little too loudly. "You know you guys aren't exactly making this limo ride fun."
"Fun is Connor's middle name," Mo says.
"No, it's not, it's Patrick," Luna says.
Elijah's head whips around, and he raises an eyebrow. "How'd you know that?"
"I've read your profiles." Luna shifts, crossing her leg and leaning back so that her arm is resting across the top of the seat. "You don't think I'd agree to travel the world with men I knew nothing about."
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