Darren had his sights set on two super tall men who stood off to the side. His hand
on my shoulder, he led me over to them, and I wondered if maybe they were my
new babysitters.
“Sir,” they both said with a nod.
Darren smiled. “Jaden, this is Clive and Owen,” he said, pointing at each one.
“They are your new bodyguards.”
I looked up at him. “Clive and Owen. Seriously?” I nearly laughed. They were
officially one name to me now.
“Absolutely. They are among my best men and have been trained to anticipate
any little line of bullshit you might try to feed them to gain an advantage.”
“Sounds like a challenge to me.” I smirked, crossing my arms over his chest.
“You would see it that way. But the only thing I see is an invitation to getting
your ass beat by me should you test them. Should you get out of hand, they will
tranquilize you immediately, and I will deal with you when you wake. I suggest
avoiding that as best you can.”
“Noted,” I replied with a nod as I studied them.
I didn’t want to stare for too long, but the one named Clive had short buzzed
black brown hair, zero scruff, and looked to be just a tad younger than Darren was.
The other one, Owen, seemed even younger, late twenties with blond hair, slightly
longer than Clive’s. They both wore the same outfit as the guards on the tarmac,
but the sunglasses they wore seemed a little different in shape—more angular and
the color was different, certainly not standard.
I was beginning to see a pattern in the uniform of his men. It seemed the ones
who guarded the house wore more combat gear, as if they were ready for an assault
at any time, while the men who accompanied him, my guards included, wore less
combative but more athletic. Normally, in the movies in organized crime, everyone
wore suits but not Darren’s men. They seemed to wear clothing more fit for their
stations. It made sense. If I wanted guards protecting me, I wouldn’t want them
fighting in the restrictions of a suit either.
“She is to stay in her room for the remainder of the day,” Darren suddenly said
to them.
And just like that, I went right back to being treated like a child. I couldn’t help
but huff in disappointment.
Darren turned to me and bent down to kiss me on the cheek. “Behave,” he
warned in my ear and walked away to address Scott and several others.
Stupid fucker.
“This way, please, Miss Jaden,” Clive said and immediately escorted me back to
the house. A shadow of pain crossed me as I entered the house, the one I tried to
run from so many months ago, and now, I was back, being nearly pushed up the
stairs to my old prison cell.
Owen opened the door for me, and I reluctantly walked inside.
“We’ll be just outside the door,” Owen said, but it was meant as more of a
warning. “There are men patrolling your windows, so don’t get any ideas. Your
dinner will be brought to you shortly. Knock if you need anything.” He then closed
the door and locked it, actually leaving me alone in my cell.
Exhaling deeply, I turned to examine my old room, finding it looked the same.
Everything was in its place, exactly as it had been left. Padding over to the
bathroom, I looked below the window I had tossed my Molotov cocktail out of and
noticed the damage fixed. But after seeing the guard with an assault rifle and a
German shepherd come into view, I immediately ducked back inside. I didn’t want
them thinking I had ideas. Opening the cabinets, I found a lot of shit missing.
There was no more alcohol, nail polish remover, bath oils, matches, or even
candles, for that matter. All my sharp little tools like my cuticle cutters, metal nail
file, nail scissors, even my rat-tail comb was removed. Obviously, someone was a
little paranoid and a little overcautious. He had my damn family on the table. I
wasn’t going to jeopardize that by attempting to stab him with a nail file.
Shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it all, I took a long hot shower, hoping
to smooth out some of the kinks that had worked themselves into my shoulders.
When I was done, I wrapped a towel around my body and stepped out into my
bedroom only to jump back to see Clive Owen standing by my table. They both
immediately turned their eyes in another direction.
“What are you doing?” I asked them, clutching my towel even tighter.
“We’ve been instructed not to
