Free The Trouble With Bodyguards: Part 3 by Kristina Blake Page A

in a bundle with a red rubber band. He pulled the band off of them, flipping quickly through two dozen or so images of Gin a’ s body contorted into ridiculous poses that he assumed that she thought were sexy. She licked her lips, pinched her nipples, and penetrated her body with all sorts of kitchen acquired sex toys.
                  He set the photographs aside, digging deeper into his present, searching for the true treasure at the bottom of the box. Slipping his fingers along the edge of the box, he counted them as he passed their spines on the way to the bottom. One, two, three, fou r… . There were five.Five glossy paged portals to the outside worl d— where his angel walked among the beautifully false and the powerfully ignorant.
    He lifted them gently, discarding the box on the floor, as he cradled them in his lap. The light from the bedside lamp reflected off the cover of the top one, a painfully thin black girl on the cover, looking as though she were about to burst into tears. A thin, white dress hung from her shoulders, her frame delicate and fragile as glass beneath the muslin. Made him sick, that this should be the standard of beauty that society holds so dear. He wanted to feed her, take her to a hospital, not be her, and not make love to her.
    Moving past the image on the cover, he gently turned the pages of the magazine, scanning each page in search of his angel. The level of his disgust rose with every sunken cheekbone, the razorblade sharpness of every pointed elbow. He skimmed them all, his eyes flitting past them, uninterested in what society called beautiful. He knew true beauty, absolute loveliness of mind and body, and he searched relentlessly for her, growing frantic as he tossed the first magazine into the box, reaching for the next in the pile.
    Here, he found her, buried under pages and pages of emaciated women, displaying their bodies as cheap whores in an effort to sell perfume that cost more than an average man made in a month. His breath caught in his chest as he was overcome, emotion welling up inside him as he ran his finger along the curve of her chin, the soft pout of her delicious lips.
    The article caught his eye, and he began to read. Details of her life since his entrapment in this place were to him morsels of the most delicious delicacy. After receiving an award for dramatic fashion photography, involving a gala party at a gallery downtown where she was pictured in a fitted black dress and heels, fully showcasing her body, ripe with child and ready to burst, she was stepping back from the business. She was taking a hiatus to spend time with her family after the birth of her first child. She had moved into a new home, a place in the country where she would be comfortable raising her daughter, Mia.
    Turning the page, his stomach dropped, all blood leaving his face. His heart beat heavy in his chest, his fingers trembling as he held the magazine tentatively by its edges. Before him was an image of a perfect family. The young woman, a soft and knowing smile on her lips, gazing down at the child in her arms, its cheeks rosy as it slept. The young man, his arm wrapped protectively around his bride, had a look of pride in his eyes.
    He wanted to tear the page, to rend their happy family asunder. Rage boiled beneath the surface of his skin, hatred resurrecting from where it had been very shallowly buried. His brother, his stupid, evil, fucking brother, swooping in,taking the thing that he coveted most, and claiming the prize as his own. He did n’ t deserve to be happy, living the life that Jake had dreamed about. He was the one who should be locked up and punished as a thief.
    Jak e’ s jaw ached, as he ground his teeth with frustration. He wished that motherfucker had died that night in the bunker when he had shot him. They could have gotten away and ran off together to start their life. It would be he, Jake, with his arms around his precious family, protecting them from the