Chapter 15

His question caught me off guard, and I froze in mid-motion. What the hell was I thinking? What kind of question was that?

I whirled to face him. "What?"

Standing in the shadows, Zane's eyes were hard, and his mouth was tight. "I told you that guy was trouble."

My jaw dropped. "You did not."

He stepped closer. "You want some advice?"

"From you?" I tried to laugh. "No."

"Yeah? Well, you're getting it, anyway." He looked toward the road, where the guy was already out of earshot. "When you know someone's trouble, you don't stand alone with them in the dark."

I made a sound of disbelief. "Well, that's rich."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, you've caused me ten times more trouble than the guard. And here I am, alone with you." I gave him a thin smile. "So, if you wanted to warn me, maybe you should've warned me about yourself."

His jaw tightened. "Then consider yourself warned."

He was standing almost within arm's reach, and something about his statement – or maybe something about him – sent a shiver down my spine. And yet, to my extreme annoyance, the shiver felt warm, more like a caress than a warning.

And that only irritated me more.

My tone grew sarcastic. "Gosh. Thanks ever so much. Now, if only someone had warned me yesterday."

Before I'd lost my job.

Before I'd witnessed people getting tossed out of their home.

Before making this stupid trip out here at all.

In front of me, Zane said, "If you see him again, you avoid him." He gave me a hard look. "Got it?"

"Who? The guard?" I gave Zane a hard look right back. "You know that was at least partly your fault."

He looked anything but contrite. "Yeah? Why's that?"

"Because here, you act like he's a big raging pervert, but you never thought to do anything about it?" My voice rose. "Until now?"

He gave me another long look, but said nothing.

"I mean, come on," I persisted. "How long have you known?"

Zane moved closer until he towered over me in the near darkness. Already, I had nowhere to go, and it suddenly struck me that the guy standing before me now was a million times more dangerous than that stupid guard on his worst day.

I don't know how I knew. I just did.

Still, I refused to back down. "Well?" I said. "How long?"

"Before you showed up?" Zane's gaze met mine. "An hour. Maybe two."

I blinked. "What?"

"I had a visit."

Curiosity got the best of me. "From who?"

His gaze shifted to the guard shack. "From someone who wasn't supposed to be here."

Obviously, he couldn't mean the guard. So who was he talking about? For some reason, I couldn’t seem to let it go. "Yeah, but who?"

I'd barely finished the question when a car – coming from inside the neighborhood – sped up to the guard shack and squealed to a stop, not in the parking area, but on the side of the street.

I recognized the car immediately. It was the same little sports car I'd seen passing me a few minutes earlier. Sure enough, the now-familiar brunette emerged from the car and slammed the car door shut behind her.

She stalked to the guard shack and went straight for the door. She twisted the doorknob and gave a hard tug.

Nothing happened.

"Hey!" she hollered through the door. "I know you're in there! Open up!" When nothing happened, she raised her arms and started pounding with both fists. "Hey, jackass!" she yelled. "You owe me! You fucking liar!"

I looked to Zane, wondering what he'd do. But the way it looked, he wasn't going to do anything, except eye the woman with barely concealed revulsion.

I whispered, "Shouldn't we tell her? You know, that her boyfriend's gone."

Slowly, his gaze shifted to me, and his eyebrows lifted just a fraction. "Boyfriend?"

Heat flooded my face. Okay, I didn't really think they were boyfriend-and-girlfriend, but I wasn't sure how else to put it.

I gave a loose shrug and mumbled, "Or whatever."

At this, Zane looked like he just might smile. But he didn't. Instead, he turned back to the guard shack and watched as the woman stalked to nearest window and pressed her face to the glass. She cupped her hands around her eyes, as if to better see inside. What she saw, I could only imagine.

I whispered, "Do you think he locked the door?"

Zane gave a tight shrug. "Probably."

I couldn't help but wonder why. As a responsible safety measure? Or as a final "screw you" to Zane for giving him the old heave-ho?

That reminded me of something. I asked, "And how could you fire him if he didn't even work for you?"

"Easy," Zane said. "Two words. 'You're fired.'"

"But won't someone get mad? I mean, what'll happen? You know, with the people he does work for?"

"Nothing," Zane said. "They'll piss and moan, and I'll tell them to fuck off. End of story."

It suddenly struck me that this was pretty much what he'd done with my job. After all, I hadn't worked for Zane directly either, and he'd still gotten me fired, even if he hadn't bothered to do it personally.

The jerk.

At the guard shack, the woman was yelling again. "I know you're in there! And just so you know, that merlot sucked ass!"

In spite of everything, I wanted to snicker. In my book, all merlot sucked ass.

At the guard shack, the woman stopped yelling and looked around. I knew the exact moment she spotted us, because her eyes widened to epic proportions, and she smiled so big, it was almost scary.

Next to me, Zane muttered, "Fuck."

I looked from Zane to the woman and back again. I felt a slow, evil smile spread across my face. I lifted my hand and hollered out, "Yoohoo! Over here!"

Under his breath, Zane said, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Why, introducing you, of course."

"You wouldn’t."

I was still smiling. "I would."

And I did. After the woman scurried over, I gave her a warm welcome and said, "Have you met Zane Bennington?" I flicked my head in his direction. "He's a gazillionaire, you know."

The woman sidled closer to Zane and gave a little shimmy of excitement. "Oh, I know," she gushed, batting her eyelashes up at him.

"And he's single," I helpfully added.

The woman gave a little squeal of excitement. "I know!" She turned to Zane. "I just love your hotels. They're soooooo luxurious." She leaned toward him. "I'd just love a private tour." Her eyes brightened. "And you know what? I've never been to Paris, but I'd just love to go sometime."

I gave a happy sigh. "Oh, well, I'd better get going." And then, true to my word, I swooped up my keys, got into my car, fired up the engine, and pulled away, leaving Zane staring after me.

As for the woman, she paid me no attention at all. Instead, she kept her gaze firmly on the so-called gazillionaire, even as he ignored whatever she was saying.

I pulled my car up to the exit gate and said a silent prayer that the gate would slide open automatically, which, thank heaven, it did.

And, then, I was on my way.

As for the guard, I spotted him maybe a mile up the road, lugging that same brown backpack and yelling into his cell phone. Oh, sure, I couldn’t hear him over the sounds of my rattletrap of a car, but his contorted face told me all I needed to know.

Whoever he was talking to was a getting an earful.

I was just glad it wasn't me.

Funny to think, I'd just had one of the crappiest days of my life, and yet, I couldn’t help but smile. Revenge – who cared about serving it cold, when you could dish it up, nice and hot, thanks to a rabid fangirl and her merlot-swilling sidekick.

I gave it some thought. Maybe the guard wasn't so much a sidekick as an accomplice. I considered what Zane had said, about getting an unwanted visitor at his house. He couldn’t have meant the brunette, because from what I'd seen, their first actual meeting had been the one I'd initiated.

Had there been another girl? Before that one? And what was the guard doing, anyway? Trading access for blow-jobs?

I decided not to think about it.

I was just glad to see Zane inconvenienced, even if only a little. The bastard had it coming, and a whole lot more besides.

The only upside was that I'd never have to see him again – or so I thought.

Turns out, I saw him just an hour later. But at least this time, it wasn't in person.