Read Online The Socialite and the Bodyguard by Dana Marton - Free Book Online Page A

road, in addition to her makeup, he also did her hair.
    The speaker up front made an industry joke Nash didn’t get. But all around him people laughed.
    “Ay mios dio! How true is that!” Elvis clapped with as much grace as a princess.
    He spoke fluent Spanish, not that he had a single drop of Latin blood in him. He volunteered at an inner-city community center, giving unemployed people makeovers before they went for interviews. He’d even pro duced an educational video at one point about the connection between appearance, self-respect and success. He was currently single, having just broken up with his longtime boyfriend. He didn’t seem any the worse for wear. But he was perpetually broke, although Kayla paid him well. He tended to give his money away. Didn’t believe in worrying about finances. He was one of those always cheerful people Nash couldn’t relate to. Highly excitable by nature.
Nash glanced at Tsini, who handled the excitement with dignity. She must have felt Nash watching her, because she turned to look at him then licked his hand. He petted her, but kept his attention on Kayla’s entourage.
    Since his instincts didn’t point in any specific direction, he would keep an eye on all of them. He wished he could have done that anywhere but here. The show, with its thousands of people, hundreds of dogs and incomprehensible rules, was a chaotic mess already and it had barely started.
    He caught a tall, bald guy to his left giving Kayla furtive looks. The man greeted people here and there, smiled, shuffled, all the while coming closer and closer. Pink polo shirt and khaki slacks, no telltale bulge around his waist that might indicate a weapon. He had his right hand in his pocket. Not a big enough bulge there either for a gun, but he could have a knife. Nash stepped between him and Kayla, keeping one eye on the man while glancing around, making sure he was alone.
    He kept coming. Then he was close enough for Nash to make a quick turn and bump into him as if by accident, brushing an arm against the back of his waist. “Sorry.” Definitely no gun there.
    The guy pulled his hand from his pocket.
    Nash’s hand went to his back as if to adjust his jacket, but his fingertips were touching his Beretta.
    Then the guy’s hand came free. Empty. And Nash left his weapon where it was for the time being.
    He watched as the guy weaseled around the team and ended up on Kayla’s other side. Nash stepped into position behind him. She still hadn’t noticed anything, but the man noticed everything about her. He kept stealing glances when he thought nobody was looking. Then he reached out and stuck his fingers into the pink bag Kayla had left unzipped.
    A pickpocket?
    Nash moved to grab him, but Kayla turned first, her eyes going wide.
    “Marcus? I didn’t see you. Showing Bella again?”
    The man snatched his hands back. “Her daughter, actually.” He gave another glance to the pink bag. “Any new secret weapons this year?”
    Kayla stiffened as she looked at her open bag. Then with a level look to the man, she pulled the zipper closed. “Are you spying on me again?” Her voice held no fear, only annoyance. She gave a back-off look to Nash over the guy’s shoulder.
    Nash stayed where he was.
    “Of course not,” the man was saying. “Just came over to wish you good luck.”
    Kayla held the bag tighter under her arm. “Good luck to you, too.” She grimaced at Marcus’s back as he left.
    A dog-show spy. All Nash could do was shake his head. And simmer in frustration that he didn’t have full run of the show here. He hated that Welkins had about tied his hands and Kayla had finished the job, pretty much making a bow on the end of the ropes.
    She was not safe in this crowd. Yet, short of throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her back to her room, there was nothing he could do. She didn’t realize the impossibility of their situation. Sure, keeping an eye on her staff when they were near her was not that