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“I am?” I say unsurely. I hate that bits of my confidence have disappeared along with my memories. Maybe they’re a package deal.
He bobs his head strongly. Before he can answer, bodyguards that’ve been manning an emergency exit have entered the front of the store. Stoic faces, cagey eyes, they join another five quiet bodyguards posted at the main entrance.
Donnelly watches them, then puts a couple fingers to his earpiece, eavesdropping on security talk. Is it considered eavesdropping if it’s also his job? He said he’s a part of the security team as a whole today, not specifically on my detail. All the bodyguards were really careful to make sure Donnelly wasn’t seen in public with me. We didn’t even come into the store at the same time.
When he admitted to being Xander’s bodyguard, I was actually happy in a selfish way. From the life I remember, I wasn’t the closest to Beckett, and there’s a better chance I’ll see Donnelly if he’s protecting my younger brother.
Still no sign of J.P. He’s copper-haired, white, and about three-hundred pounds of squishy beef. Hard to miss from his size alone. Lately, I’ve been flanked by three times as many bodyguards as I’m used to. I’m almost certain he’s no longer on the team, which has only spiraled my questions.
Maybe my new 24/7 bodyguard hates me. Is that why no one has told me who they are? Or did something happen to them during the assault? Did they get hurt? Oh my God. Why am I just now thinking of this?
“Donnelly,” I say quickly, catching his attention. Though he still seems casual, taking another bite of the bagel sandwich. I ask, “Is my full-time bodyguard okay? Because no one has reintroduced me yet, and now I’m thinking maybe they got hurt—”
He’s mid-chew of his breakfast bagel when he interrupts me to say, “She’s fine.”
She.
My gaze widens. One of my favorite bodyguards was a woman. Alana. I grew up with her, and when she retired, I wrote a story about Alana living forever in a queendom on Thebula. I tried to preserve her memory on my home planet, where I wished she’d always be.
I have a new bodyguard. A female bodyguard.
Sliding a little out of the booth, I crane my head to see the entrance where security has gathered in a team huddle. No women.
“Where is she?” I ask.
“I dunno, but I think she’ll be on your detail later.” Donnelly swallows the last of the bagel and crumples up the napkin wrapper in his fist. “You sure you don’t wanna eat?”
I already rejected a breakfast bagel, a hashbrown patty, and a scone. My nerves don’t pair well with hunger. I shake my head. “Why wouldn’t you know where my bodyguard is?” I question, confused. “You’re on the security team.”
“Yeah, but I don’t get looped into all the big boss meetings. I’m not a lead so…” He trails off when the front door chimes. Security breaks apart to let them pass.
I elevate out of my seat, thinking it’s Eliot and Tom. It’s not them…
A woman struts inside with a graceful power-walk, and I go from nervously excited to just plain curious. Is this my bodyguard? She’s likely in her mid-thirties, black, and dressed for success in a taupe silky blouse and high-waisted pants. Her curly pony is styled so beautifully.
Something about her is a wee bit familiar, but I can’t place her in my mind.
“Is she my bodyguard?” I whisper to Donnelly, but just as I ask, I notice how the other bodyguards bristle around her, even more so when two other men slip inside the store.
It registers the same time Donnelly says, “That’s Ali Miller. She’s production.”
Behind her, I recognize the very tall Jack Highland—he’s the exec producer on the unit that films my older brother and older cousins. He’s Filipino and white, and at his side is a guy who looks like he could be Ali’s twin. Just as fashionable and poised.
“Ambrose,” Donnelly tells me quietly. “Ali’s brother.” So maybe not twins? Or else I think he would’ve led with that. “And that’s Jack. All production.”
There are three production units that film my family, and I’m a part of the third one, so I’m not around Jack’s team as much as Maximoff, Jane, and Charlie. But…I think I was supposed to be shifted to Jack’s team after I graduated high school, so maybe Original Luna knows him better than I do.
Disappointed, I lower back in my seat. And so, the mystery of my bodyguard prevails.
“Give us some space here,” Ambrose tells the bodyguard fleet.
“We could move some of the shelves,” Ali says to Jack and acts as if security is invisible. “It’d give the guests more room.”
“Do you have to do this now?” a late-twenties bodyguard asks with slight edge. He kinda reminds me of my Uncle Connor’s bodyguard—a younger version. Golden-skinned, warm brown hair curled at his ears.
