Page 2 of Thirsty Bodyguard Summer

“There’s been no attempt to sell information, and no one has claimed the public record is false,” Rafi said. “Whoever’s doing this wants Shane off that stage.”

“Jesse doesn’t know about the messages,” Tracy added. “He has his own career, and there’s no reason to drag him into a threat he didn’t make.”

“What has Shane done since the first message arrived?”

“He said, ‘Ignore it.’ Then he walked out alone this morning to swim.”

Sloane rested one hand beside the folder. She didn’t raise her voice or change her expression.

“That’s why Cassidy is taking the detail now,” she said.

Tracy glanced at my fitted navy polo, sand-colored tactical shorts, and tan athletic shoes. I was five foot four, curvy, and built more like the competitive swimmer I’d once been than the human wall celebrity clients tended to expect. Bright strawberry-blond hair didn’t help anyone picture me boarding hostile vessels in the Coast Guard.

“Cassidy spent eight years in maritime enforcement and boarding-team service before I recruited her,” Sloane said. “She’s one of our strongest close-protection specialists.”

“I read her file,” Tracy said. “I’m not the one who’ll need convincing.”

“Shane won’t insult her. He may try to charm his way around her.”

“That’s his answer to most locked doors.”

I closed the threat folder. “Then he can flirt from inside the perimeter.”

Rafi almost smiled. “I’ll add that to the contract.”

The main screen changed to a map of Dune Garden Inn. Shane’s rental sat near the edge of the property, where a pedestrian route ran between the gardens and the beach. The patio faced the Atlantic, but low landscaping left it exposed from three directions.

I traced the likely camera angle. “The sender could’ve stood on the public route. Nobody needed to cross a fence or enter the property.”

“That matches our assessment,” Rafi said.

“I want the route between his door and our vehicle checked before I arrive. I also need the current staff-access list and confirmation that no one has posted his cottage number or a live location.”

“I’ll have everything ready.”

“Can you move him?” Tracy asked.

“I won’t relocate him based on one exterior shot if we can reduce the exposure where he is. I’ll inspect the property, talk to Carlos, and decide whether moving Shane creates more attention than it solves.”

Sloane slid an SUV key across the table. “You have authority over movement decisions while the threat is active. Explain the reason when you have time. When you don’t, move him.”

“I always explain the reason.”

“You do,” Rafi said. “Sometimes after everyone is safely inside the vehicle.”

I picked up the key. “How much resistance should I expect?”

Tracy released a slow breath. “After the party, Shane spent two years being told where to sit, what to say, when to apologize, and when to disappear. His comeback contract came with a schedule, a fitness plan, media limits, and another dozen people who think they own his time. He hears protection and assumes more confinement.”

“That explains why he dislikes restrictions. It doesn’t make an open beach route safe.”

“I know, and so does he when he stops reacting long enough to think.” Tracy uncrossed her arms. “I’m asking you to protect him and get him to the stage. I’m not asking you to manage his image.”

“That’s good, because I don’t do image management.”

“Then you may be the first person he’s met this year who doesn’t.”

A sharp electronic chime sounded from the comms bank. Two operators checked an afternoon-lightning alert east of the island, then returned to their screens. Outside the curved glass, the sun blazed over Sunbreak Harbor’s marina, boardwalk, and rows of rental cottages crowded with families in bright swimsuits.