Muscle for Hire(62)

She laughed.

Five minutes later, Aslin realized he was slipping into sleep. And still on the floor.

Lifting his head, he peered down at Rowan, a smile on his lips.

She was sound asleep, her cheek resting just above the root of his cock, the fingers of her hand loosely cupping his balls.

The overwhelming desire to not disturb her, to stay exactly where they were welled through him. For a heartbeat. Commonsense told him the floor was not the place for a person who’d survived an explosion to be.

No matter how sated and peaceful her sleeping expression.

He shifted beneath her, an inch at a time, determined to not wake her. It took patience, stealth and muscle control, but Aslin didn’t care. He not only didn’t want to wake her, he wanted to be certain he didn’t hurt her.

Finally on his feet, he allowed himself a moment to study the bruises on her body. Her ribcage was going to be sore for many days, and the cut on her lip would make kissing out of the question. She wouldn’t like that. Hell, he didn’t like it either, but that was the way it was.

So sodding well control that dick of yours, boyo.

Aslin let out a slow breath. What they’d done just now…

Guilt wormed its way through his happiness, cold and tainted.

He let out a slow breath and lowered himself into a crouch. With as little movement as possible, careful not to press any part of his body against her ribcage, he slid his arms under back and knees and lifted her from the floor.

She moaned, her eyebrows pulling into a small frown before she curled into his chest. Sounds slipped past her lips, words he couldn’t make out. He held her motionless for a long second, her cheek on his shoulder, her lips on the side of his neck, her body snugged against his chest, and he knew without doubt he would kill anyone who tried to hurt her again.

Which meant the person responsible for her being injured today better hope it wasn’t Aslin that tracked them down.

Because if Aslin was the one that found them before the cops, they wouldn’t live another minute.

And he would end their life with an extraordinary amount of pain.





Chapter Fifteen

Filming was shut down until further notice.

Nigel McQueen, having recovered from his meltdown the day before, was now—according to Tilly—spending his time co-operating with the police investigating the trailer explosion or arguing with the studio suits. Apparently the suits were threatening to pull funding if filming didn’t recommence within twenty-four hours.

Nigel was calling for blood. Everyone was being interrogated. The director’s famed intensity and relentless focus was now being turned on cast and crew. No one was spared his suspicions.

“He’s even questioned Chris and Mr. Rhodes,” Tilly said, shaking her head. “Which is ridiculous. Why would your brother and your lover try and hurt you?”

Rowan dragged her hands through her hair, bit back a sigh and stared at the young woman sitting opposite her. “What are the police saying? Do they have any leads?”

“If they do, they’re not sharing.” Tilly popped a strawberry into her mouth from the breakfast platter she’d ordered after arriving in Aslin’s suite thirty minutes ago. “But the feeling on set is they think it was an accident. Apparently there was something wrong with Mr. Rhodes’s trailer that was meant to be fixed before being delivered.”

Rowan’s stomach rolled. An accident? Was it possible? She thought of Aslin’s insistence someone was out to harm her. She thought of the bruise covering her broken ribs.

Just an accident?

“I told Chris to go.” Tilly’s chipper voice tickled Rowan’s frustration. “He didn’t want to, but I said you’d be fine. And Mr. Rhodes was going to be there, so I knew you wouldn’t worry about him being attacked.”

Rowan blinked, forcing her focus back on her brother’s personal assistant. “Sorry? What didn’t Chris want to do? Where is he now?”

Tilly smiled, her eyes wide and excited. “He didn’t want to go surfing. But when I called Mr. Rhodes this morning and asked him to guard Chris, Chris was more than happy to head to the beach. He’s been working so hard he needed a time out, don’t you think? Jeff and Ross are with him. I procured boards and wetsuits from a local supplier and promised they could use Chris’s image in their advertising in exchange.”

The pit of Rowan’s stomach clenched. Tilly was organizing Chris’s days. Two members of his former entourage, the jovial clown and the surly sponge, were with him. It was just like Rowan didn’t exist.

“Don’t worry,” the young woman went on, topping off Rowan’s cup with hot, black coffee, “I covered his face with sun block and told Mr. Rhodes not to let anyone near him when he comes out of the surf.”