Jefferies shoved her hands into the back pockets of her skinny jeans and nibbled on her bottom lip.
“You’ll be fine. No one knows your actual last name and if you dye your signature blonde hair, no one will recognize you. Just pay attention to your teachers and have fun.” Cy squeezed her shoulder. “College is the best time of your life.”
Taylor raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Better than the Oscar I won last year?”
“Better. You know why?” Cy waited for her to shake her head. “Because you get to learn things and discover who you are, not just who a director tells you to be. And you get to make friends—real friends who don’t care if you eat carbs or don’t wear makeup.”
“I’m going to miss you, Uncle Cy. It seems like just yesterday you taught me how to do my own stunts.”
Cy smiled. He still remembered the little eight-year-old girl on the movie set standing at the edge of the tree house looking down at the mats with tears in her eyes. Her parents were yelling at her to jump as the director was throwing his clipboard and anything else he could get his hands on. But Taylor was frozen in place. It was her first stunt and Cy calmly walked over to her and introduced himself. He made a joke and she cracked a smile. Climbing up the small rope ladder, he showed her how to jump and promised he’d catch her. She had jumped and started a ten-year career that resulted in many awards.
She had emancipated herself at sixteen after her parents stole over $3,000,000 from her. Cy had spent every day with her at the lawyer’s office and then in court. Taylor bought a house not far from him. He taught her how to cook, how to clean her house, and then how to drive. Sadly, she had become more like his little sister than Paige, his real little sister. And that was one of the reasons he was retiring. His own little sister had a baby, and he was tired of being an absentee brother and uncle.
“I know, squirt. Give me a call when you get settled. You’re going to school on the other side of the country from your parents, which I know is why you chose it, but know that I’m just three hours away if you need a place to crash for a weekend.”
“Thanks. Happy retirement.” Taylor kissed Cy’s cheek and he grabbed her up in a big hug.
“Talk to you soon, squirt.”
“Hey, Davidson. You need a ride home?” Douglas shouted from across the bar.
“Nah. It’s not too far, I’ll just walk.” Cy tossed a hundred-dollar bill on the bar and walked out into the warm air. He had moved to L.A. a little over ten years ago and he still hadn’t gotten used to the smell of the air. But now he was finally going home for good.
Cy shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and bent his head down as he navigated his way through clusters of men and women making their way to bars. He was going back to his apartment and getting his things ready to be shipped to Keeneston in the next few days. It couldn’t come soon enough. He was tired of the grind, the women, the hotels, the directors—the whole thing. What he really wanted was to go back home, take over his part of the farm from his youngest brother, Pierce, and maybe open a small dirt track for race cars and motorcycles.
He stopped after a couple blocks and looked around. If he cut through this side street he could shave off ten minutes. The sooner he got packed, the sooner he could get home to see his family.
Cy turned down the alley and passed the backside of apartment building after apartment building. Shouting snapped him out of his thoughts and he looked up to see a beautiful woman hurling herself down the fire escape at breakneck speed. A little way above her two men chased after her.
Instinct kicked him into gear. Sprinting toward the emergency ladder, Cy looked for a way to get the ladder down. The only way was three stories above him. The woman was going to have to make it that far by herself, but as soon as she released that lever, he’d be there to help her.
“Come on, come on, pull the lever,” Cy whispered impatiently as he watched her jump off the stairs and onto the landing.
After what seemed like an eternity, she pulled the lever and the ladder started sliding down to the ground. The woman turned and grabbed the side of the ladder, but when she looked up at the men chasing her, her foot missed the next step and slipped. Cy watched helplessly as the woman slid all the way down the ladder, her body hitting against it as she held onto the outside rails with all her might.
Jumping to action, Cy held out his arms preparing to catch the falling woman. She came down the ladder with such uncontrolled speed that he had to jump back or risk getting knocked out by her flailing feet.
She hit the pavement hard and stumbled backward, right into his chest. “Good evening. May I be of assistance?” he asked with a smile, completely out of place compared to the woman’s terror-filled face. Instead of answering, the woman screamed and stomped her foot on his. “Umph! Look, lady, I’m a good guy. Now get behind me.” Cy shoved her behind him and charged the man coming down the ladder.
Reaching up, he grabbed hold of the man’s legs and yanked hard. The man’s chin slammed into the metal step and snapped back. Cy saw a circular tattoo on the underside of his wrist as he fell back with blood trickling from his mouth. The impact of his body hitting the ground was enough to knock him out.
“This doesn’t concern you. Walk away before you die for this girl,” the man with the shaved head said with a slight Russian accent from the top of the ladder. He knew Cy held the advantage and didn’t go any farther down.
“Or what, you’ll come down here and kill me? Then come on, baldy.” Cy put his hands on his hips and stared up at the man.
“I won’t have to come down there.” The man pushed back his coat, exposing a gun.
“Well, shit.” Cy leaped back, grabbed the trembling woman by her arm, and shoved her down the street. A bullet hit the brick building just in front of them and Cy shoved her into a narrow alley between two apartment buildings. “Who are you, lady?”
“Gemma. Gemma Perry. Who are you? Er . . . and thank you for saving me. That doesn’t seem like enough of a thank-you, though. You did save my life. What do I say to that?” Gemma rambled nervously between gasps of air as they zigzagged between buildings.
Cy couldn’t help but grin as he slowed to a stop, hiding behind a dumpster. “A thank-you is good enough. What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t help a woman in distress? I’d never be allowed back home if my ma found out.” Cy held out his hand. “I’m Cy Davidson. It’s nice to meet you, even under the circumstances.”
Gemma shook his hand, staring in bewilderment as their hands intertwined. His wasn’t even shaking. Hers on the other hand were a sweaty, trembling mess. “You’re not even shaking.” She looked up into his hazel eyes. Green flecks, the same shade as hers, were woven in between bits of gold. From what she could tell by his short hair, it was a dark blond with a bit of auburn in it. His shoulders seemed to go on for miles and the way he looked in a t-shirt and jeans was ridiculous.
“I’m a stuntman. Or I was. Today was my last day. I’m retired. I kinda live for the adrenaline rush. Getting shot at wasn’t anything compared to leaping a building like I did a couple of hours ago. What about you, Gemma?”
“Ugh. It figures you’re Hollywood. At least your teeth aren’t capped.” Cy chuckled at this spitfire in front of him. She came up to his chin and he had the strongest desire to wrap his arms around her and protect her. He didn’t know why, because in all honesty, she was a mess. Her shirt was partially untucked from her jeans. Her shiny brunette hair stuck out in every direction and she smelled quite bad. But beneath that were full breasts, a narrow waist, and curvy hips that caused images of her naked and on top of him to fly through his mind.
“And what do you do, Gemma? Is your job why these guys were chasing you?” Cy asked.
“I’m an investigative reporter for
“I am so sorry, honey. I can’t imagine losing one of my brothers or my sister.” Gemma held her breath as the huge man with the slight southern accent enveloped her in a hug. Fred chose that moment to stick his head out and make himself known with a whine. “Oh, please tell me the dog isn’t the witness to the crime and the only one able to ID the killers?”
Gemma shot him a look that told him to eat shit, but he only laughed and grabbed Fred. “Wait. He doesn’t know you . . .” Gemma’s worried words trailed off as she watched Fred attack the man’s stubbled chin with kisses.
“Aren’t you a sweet puppy?” Cy cooed. “Now, why don’t you tell me more about your sister and what those
