Muscle for Hire(2)

Aslin gave the actor a slight nod. “I saw.”

Chris laughed. “Nick also told me you weren’t one for a lot of wasted words. I see he’s right.” He waved his hand at the empty seat beside him. “Would you like to get in? Nigel got called back to the set and I’m due back in an hour, but I really wanted to chat first.”

Aslin studied the man looking up at him from the SUV’s interior. He was young, handsome and openly friendly. A target for all sorts of deluded and hysterical fans, especially given the sexual potency Aslin had noticed oozed from him when on screen.

Are you thinking of a potential new boss?

Since Nick’s retirement from singing and his emersion in family life, Aslin had found himself at a loss for things to do. There was only so much a bodyguard could do in a small rural town in the Australian highlands, particularly when the rock star he guarded preferred to just hang out at home with his wife and son nowadays.

After a few months of watching Aslin attempt to find potential threats in the amiable citizens of Murriundah, Nick had finally rolled his eyes and told Aslin he had a job for him. Just a quick favour for a friend.

In Sydney.

On a film set.

Staring three big Hollywood actors.

“McQueen needs an advisor on all things menacing and commando, especially for Chris Huntley,” Nick had said to Aslin with a grin. “I can tell you’re bored out of your brain here, As. Get your arse to Sydney and be useful for a change, will you?”

And so here Aslin was now, ready to tell Hollywood—and an actor who so far hadn’t played a single action role—how to do it right.

“Nigel said he’d meet us back on set, “ Chris went on, his attention fixed on Aslin’s face, as if storing away all sorts of little details. “He’s getting his P.A. to arrange a trailer for you. It was meant to be ready now but apparently it’s got a faulty pilot light on the stove.” The actor shot a look at the empty seat at Aslin’s knees, an almost nervous tension pulling at his forehead. “If you’d rather meet us both back there…”

From the corner of his eye, Aslin caught movement and he straightened a little, enough to notice the red-headed woman in the Twice Too Many T-shirt taking photos of the SUV. She gave him a wide smile, her expression suddenly predatory and smug.

A pulse ticked in his neck. The woman had worked out her prey was in the car. It was time to get Chris out of there.

As a rule, Aslin didn’t get into a vehicle he wasn’t driving himself, but with Ms. Too-Tight T-shirt hurrying towards him and the SUV’s open door, he knew now wasn’t the time to discuss the chauffeur situation.

Bending at the waist, he ducked through the opening, climbed into the SUV and slammed the door behind him. He’d arrange for his motorbike to be delivered to the film set. Better to stay with Huntley now that a fan knew the vehicle the actor travelled in.

“Hello, Mr. Rhodes.” The same male voice that had called him earlier came from behind the driver’s wheel. Aslin lifted his focus to the rearview mirror, finding a set of black Ray-Bans looking back at him. “Welcome aboard. I’m Jeff Coulten.”

Aslin took in the broad width of the man’s shoulders and the smooth strength in his neck. “Bodyguard?”

Jeff laughed. “Driver.”

Chris let out his own chuckle. “I don’t have a bodyguard, Aslin. May I call you Aslin? Jeff is what’s left of my entourage.”

Aslin cocked an eyebrow. “What’s left of it?”

Chris reached up and snared his seat belt to buckle himself in. “I grew out of it.” He gave Aslin a wide smile. “Ready?”

Before Aslin got a chance to ask for what, the thumping sounds of Linkin Park flooded the SUV’s cabin, the engine roared into life and the car took off, throwing Aslin back into his seat as Jeff drove them away from the café and past the furiously photographing middle-aged fan.

Welcome to the movie world, boyo, Aslin thought, buckling himself in as quickly as he could. Remind yourself to kick Nick in the arse when you see him again.

Twenty minutes later—with quite a few of those minutes spent reminding Jeff Coulten Australians drove on the left side of the road—Aslin swore he’d never get in a car with what was left of Chris Huntley’s entourage again. Not if the affable Jeff was driving. Thankfully, and somewhat remarkably, they’d made it to the film set in one piece, Jeff leaving Chris and Aslin at the fenced perimeter before tearing away, wheels spitting gravel out in his wake.

Chris threw Aslin a sideward glance, no doubt seeing the disapproval on Aslin’s face. “He’s a great guy, honest,” he said as they began walking deeper into the area currently overrun with film crew. “And he’s been my friend for years.”