The Socialite and the Bodyguard by Dana Marton

them. I still think they have nothing to do with this.”
    “Of course you do,” he told her, having just figured out something about her. “You’re a middle child. You’re a peacemaker. I work differently.” “Going after everyone who moves?” she accused him.
    “Just the enemy. Look, I used to be military. Find the bastards, kill the bastards. That’s pretty much me.” And he wasn’t going to apologize for it.
    “You’re a warrior,” she summed up with a dismayed look that said she wasn’t the least impressed by him.
    Which shouldn’t have bothered him nearly as much as it did.
     
    K AYLA SAT on the edge of the couch, a bundle of nerves as she watched Nash take apart her staff, one by one. Nobody had an alibi for the time when her pillow had been sliced. Everyone had been off doing their own thing, except for Mike and Greg, but even they had split up for a while in the casino. Which she didn’t like in the least. Mike should have been more careful than that. She couldn’t bear if anything happened to Greg.
    She couldn’t help but think that Nash would never have been that careless. He hadn’t let her out of his sight save for their bathroom breaks. And then he’d arranged for backup.
    “Who the hell are you to question my loyalty to Kayla?” Mike was getting right in Nash’s face on the other side of the living room.
    She half lifted from the couch, ready to intervene if they came to blows, but Nash stood completely still, the epitome of calm strength. And she sank back down.
    She would have been lying if she said that his strength didn’t draw her. Her father had been a powerful man. Not as physically powerful as Nash, but powerful in other ways. But her father had always used his strength to dominate other people for his own good. Nash was using his strength to protect her.
Mike threw his hands in the air and walked away from him, giving up at last.
    Everyone was tired. Nash had been questioning them about the photo and the sliced pillow for over two hours, as they came back into the suite for dinner, one by one. Dinner was artfully arranged on the table, food that nobody touched. Kayla wasn’t hungry either. Her stomach felt as if it had a lead ball sitting in it.
    “Who the hell do you think you are to bust his chops like that?” Dave took Nash to task, standing up for Mike.
    They were second cousins, had worked together forever. Those two made a tight team and didn’t take it well when their authority was challenged.
    “I’m the new head of security.” Nash looked around the room, daring anyone to challenge him as he broke the news at last.
    All eyes flew to her for confirmation, and then went wide with dismay as she gave a weary nod. “I don’t know what else to do. I don’t think anyone here has anything to do with this, but if someone is out to get me, any of you could get hurt. Nash has the most experience.”
    “He knows nothing about you,” Dave protested, taking a couple of steps toward her, his muscles rigid with anger, his neck turning red.
    “For now.” She tried to placate him, placate all of them. “We’ll figure out the long-term plan when we get back home.”
    The day was almost over. Only three more to go. To morrow Tsini would attend the Group Ring and compete for the Best of Group title in the Non-Sporting category. Then, if she did well, she’d be in the Best of Show competition on Sunday afternoon. There was nothing but the closing gala after that, then various club meetings Monday morning before everyone headed out.
Kayla normally enjoyed these events. They were the only public functions she attended where the attention wasn’t on her. Everyone who came here came for the dogs, was fanatical about the competition, and seeing someone famous was nothing but a minor ripple in the day. She liked these shows and unless she had conflicting engagements, she made a point to be here for Tsini. But this time around, try as she might, she couldn’t get into all the