Protect Me: Protect Me, #1

By Layla Valentine

What do you do when the man who's supposed to protect you is the very one you should be running from?

 

Paisley:

 

I never thought I needed a bodyguard,

But when Tyler snuck into my bedroom in the middle of the night, he sure as hell changed my mind.

Six foot three of endless muscle and a burning case of writer's block,

I just found my favorite new distraction.

 

Tyler:

 

Paisley Abbott, country singer and international star,

She's sweet like sugar and pure as untouched snow.

I gained her trust, conned my way into her home,

And now her bed.

She doesn't know I made a sordid tape of us together,

And yes—I made sure to get us from every. single. angle.

She doesn't know I plan to sell her out and expose her to millions.

I sure as hell didn't plan to fall for her for real.

Now there's no way we're getting out of this without one of us getting hurt.

 

This is the first book in the Protect Me series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Layla Valentine
• Release date: Nov 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201660109

Book preview

Tyler

The sky knew. The sky always knows. Thunder rolled. It shook me to my core, awakening me from my stupor. Red raindrops in my eyes. The gutter smelled like garbage and blood. Everything smelled like blood. Numb fists twanged with life, shooting pain up my arms to my skull.

At least my skull was intact. I couldn’t say the same for Billy. I could still hear the sirens in the distance, speeding him to St. Frederick’s. Maybe they could save him. God, I hoped so.

Billy was a good kid, and a good fighter. Almost as good as I was. Almost.

I shook the water out of my eyes, squinting through the dark streets of industrial Memphis. I grew up on these streets. They were good to me; better than my bastard father was, anyway. The streets taught me how to fight. I still remember my first. A man who saw ghosts took my day-old trash burger. I fought him for it. I lost.

I swore that day that I would never lose a fight again. I never did.

That night, sloshing through the gutters on auto-pilot, I wished to God I had. Just once. Just this time. As the shock left my body, every ache made itself known. My cracked and bruised ribs. My broken nose. The gash on my forehead. My gut.

Billy almost won. He had me by the throat, pressed up against the ropes. I was losing air. I shook the image away, but it kept coming back. My feet led me to the bar.

Yo, Tyler! You look like hell. Have a drink. Dan slid me a whiskey as he flipped his bar rag up on his shoulder.

Better make it a bottle. I swept dripping, bloody hair off of my forehead. The whiskey burned as it went down.

Bad fight? Dan asked casually as he poured me another.

Bad doesn’t cover it. I might’ve killed Billy.

Might have?

They took him to the hospital. They were breathing for him.

Shit.

Yeah. My throat tightened, and I loosened it with booze. To hell with it. Someone should hear my side. He had me pinned against the ropes. Had my neck in his elbow. Cutting off my air.

Hell of a spot to be in. Dan nodded sympathetically.

Yeah, well… Figured I couldn’t stay there. Walked myself up the ropes. Pushed off. He tried, man. Twisted me around, tried to stay on top. Shot number three, down the hatch. Didn’t work. Caught my knee in the side of his head. I… I trailed off, hearing it again. I heard his skull crack. Didn’t even slow him down. He got a shot to my throat. I blacked out. Next thing I know, I’ve got four people pulling me off of him. He didn’t…look right. A tear fell into my drink, carrying a thin swirl of blood.

Dan grunted, closing his eyes against the picture I painted.

He beat the hell out of me first, though, I said with a bitter laugh. He’s damn good. Was…damn good.

They’ll fix him up, Dan told me encouragingly. He’ll be back in the ring with you before you know it, with one hell of a grudge.

My stomach twisted and I shook my head. Can’t do it, Dan. I’m done. I’m out.

Out? You can’t be out. You’re the best fighter around. Who am I gonna put my money on?

Gonna have to back a new horse, Dan. I have to stop before I kill somebody.

Dan was understanding, but his disappointment was clear. I didn’t blame him. I was disappointed, too. More than that, I was petrified.

All I’ve ever done is fight, I told him quietly. I gotta figure something out. I need money, lots of it, fast. Jeanne just had those twins, she can’t work. Billy ain’t insured for this. I gotta do something, Dan, I screwed up their whole lives.

The alcohol must have been getting to me, because I seemed to have to choke every word past a lump in my throat.

You serious? Dan had a strange look in his eye as he passed me another shot.

No, I’m lying. I’m going to strut into the sunset with my winnings and leave his girl and his kids to fend for themselves. Sarcasm wrapped around my guilt, insulating it. Smothering it.

I’m just saying, I know how you can make a bunch of money, fast. Tons. More than you make in a year.

That caught my attention. I cocked an eyebrow and immediately regretted it as the action split the fresh scab, spilling a trickle down into my eye. Dan leaned over the bar, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

Celebrity sex tapes, he said.

What?

Big money, boy. I’d do it myself, but no hot little starlet is going to want a balding, pudgy bartender. You… You’ve got that appeal. All I ask is that you cut me in. Not much, just enough to make retirement more than a fading wet dream.

Come on, Dan, who’s gonna pay for that? I scoffed, but the idea was gaining a foothold in my alcohol-soaked brain.

I know a guy, Dan said with a shrug, leaning back to wipe the counter. You get the babe, he’ll give you the cash.

How much?

A lot, Dan said vaguely, but his eyes glittered like a fox. "Enough for you to throw ten percent my way. Ten percent and I’ll be