Page 2 of Protected By The Ranger (The Men of Ghost Security #1)

IZZY

M y hands shake as I remember how different everything felt forty-eight hours ago. The spotlight’s heat on my skin, the crowd’s energy washing over me like fuel for my soul, the rush of holding three thousand people captive with nothing but my voice.

Now,it’s Monday morning andI’m hiding out at my brother’s house, on the run from a stalker.

I left LA so fast that I didn’t even go home to pack. Just grabbed my bag from the dressing room after the show and drove straight through the night, fueled by adrenaline and a spiking fear I’d never experienced. All I knew was that I had to leave, so I did.

My phone buzzes, and my stomach clenches before I look. My agent’s name flashes on the screen, and I know I need to talk to her. I didn’t tell her I was leaving.

A different kind of tension builds in me as I answer her call. “Hey, Marissa.”

“Izzy, thank God. Where the hell are you?” Marissa’s voice is sharp with barely contained panic. “You missed the interview with Rolling Stone, and Atlantic Records has been calling nonstop about the signing you. Plus, there’s the Vegas residency on offer.”

I sink onto Hayden’s bed, which has the same quilt our grandmother made for him when he was a kid. “I had to leave town. Family emergency.”

“Family emergency?” Her voice rises an octave. “Izzy, you’re on the cusp of breaking out and taking your career to the next level. You have momentum that artists would kill for, and you disappear? Do you understand what this could do to your career?”

I cringe because she’s right. I’ve worked ten years to get to this point—performing in dive bars and coffee shops, writing songs in my car because I couldn’t afford studio time, choosing between groceries and guitar strings more times than I care to remember.

Being onThe Breakoutlaunched my career, and I know I should be there, working harder than ever before.

“I know, but—”

“But nothing. This industry has the attention span of a goldfish. If you’re not constantly in front of people, they forget you exist.” Marissa’s breathing is audible over the phone, and I know she’s trying to control her temper.

“I need to know when you’ll be back. Three days?

A week? I’m running out of excuses here. ”

I close my eyes, trying to find words that will make her understand without revealing how scared I am. “I can’t give you a timeline yet.”

The silence stretches so long that I wonder if the call dropped.

When Marissa speaks again, her voice is dangerously quiet. “Izzy, I’ve been in this business for fifteen years. I’ve seen careers die overnight because artists thought they could step away when things got hard. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not. I didn’t come to my brother’s because I’m scared of hard work. You know I put in the time and never complain about it.”

“Then tell me what’s going on. And don’t say family emergency.”

“Someone’s been following me,” I finally admit. “Stalking me. It got serious enough that I had to leave.”

Another silence, then Marissa’s voice returns, sharper but more focused. “How serious? How come this is the first I’m hearing about it? Have you contacted the police?”

“What are they going to do? Tell me to be careful?” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “He hasn’t technically broken any laws. Yet.”

“Shit. Okay, this is manageable. We’ll hire security, beef up protection at venues. You can’t let some psycho derail everything you’ve worked for.”

She makes it sound so simple, like fear is simply another obstacle to overcome with the right strategy. Maybe that’s how she sees it. Maybe that’s how I need to see it, too, if I want to hold on to what success I’ve had so far.

“I need a few days to figure things out,” I tell her. “I’m working on security arrangements. My brother has asked a friend who is ex-Army to help me out while I’m here.”

“I can cover you for a week. Maybe two, Izzy. That’s it. After that, we start losing opportunities we can’t get back.”

The line goes dead, leaving me staring at my phone and fighting the urge to throw it across the room.

Two weeks to fix the stalker situation or potentially lose everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve.

Could labels and magazines really drop me if they have to wait a few weeks to hear from me?

I knew music was a tough business, but…ugh.

My mind goes back to Jake. When he looked at me as Hayden introduced us, there was recognition in his eyes. Not the “oh right, I’ve seen you on TV” kind of recognition, but something that made my core turn molten and almost made me forget why I came to stay with my brother.

The crunch of gravel in the driveway draws me to the window.

Jake’s truck pulls up, and I watch him climb out with the kind of quiet power that tells me he’s as muscular under his clothes as I’ve been fantasizing about.

He’s changed into dark jeans and a gray Henley that clings to his chest in ways that make me fantasize in ways I really shouldn’t about my brother’s best friend.

After Jake drops a worn duffel in the spare bedroom, he suggests sitting on the porch so he can get up to speed with what’s been happening.

“Thanks,” I say, accepting a fresh beer from him and taking a long drink. This is my second beer, but my hands are still shaky.

“Tell me about this guy,” Jake says without preamble. “From the beginning.”

His voice has a rough edge and an authority that makes me sit up straight and obey without hesitation.

“At first I thought it was just fan mail,” I begin. “You know, the usual compliments about my voice, saying how pretty I am, requests for autographs, that kind of thing. Pretty standard when you’ve been on TV.”

Jake nods, waiting for me to continue. From the moment we met, I wanted his attention on me, but now? He has an intensity that makes me squirm and squeeze my thighs together.

“The letters started getting more personal. Details about my life that weren’t public knowledge.

Then he started mentioning specific things about my performances, places I’d been.

It quickly became obvious that he was going out of his way to find out about my private life.

” I take another sip of beer. “He started asking about how I liked things I’d done or places I’d been, when I hadn’t posted about it on Instagram or Facebook. ”

“He’s been following you.” It’s not a question, and the flat certainty in Jake’s voice makes my skin crawl.

“Yeah.” It frustrates me how small my voice sounds.

“I figured if I disappeared from the public eye for a while, he’d lose interest and move on to someone else.

”The incident that finally sent me running flashes through my mind—him sending me a picture from inside my condo.

I don’t know how he got past my security alarm, but seeing pictures of my bedroom with an outfit laid out on my bed that he captioned “I’d love to see you where this”? It was too much.

Jake’s jaw tightens, and something dangerous flickers in his eyes. “I’m sorry to tell you, but that’s not how these guys work. He’ll probably see your sudden disappearance as a personal challenge to find you before anyone else does. You did the right thing coming here.”

“My agent thinks I’m destroying my career.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “Two weeks. That’s all she’s giving me before opportunities start disappearing forever.”

“Fuck your agent.” The vehemence in his voice surprises me. “Your safety matters more than any career.”

“Easy for you to say. You didn’t spend ten years clawing your way up from nothing.” The snap in my voice surprises me. “Sorry. I don’t know your story. I didn’t mean—”

“You’re scared,” Jake says quietly. “And angry. Both are justified.”

The simple acknowledgment eases something inside my chest. When was the last time someone validated my feelings instead of trying to fix or minimize them?

“You’re an attractive and accomplished woman, Izzy,” Jake says after a moment, his voice gentler. “If you stay in the spotlight, which I presume is your intent, it’s inevitable that situations like this will happen. But don’t let it stop you from pursuing your dreams.”

I turn to look at him, surprised by the support in his statement. In the golden light of sunset, his features are sharper, more defined. A thin, white scar runs along his left temple.

“You look like you’ve seen things.”

Something shutters in his expression, walls sliding into place.

“Yeah. We all have.” He pauses, and I see all the things he’s not saying flash across his eyes.

“Let’s talk about something better. I always wondered how your singing turned out.

Hayden mentioned it a couple of times when we were deployed.

He talked about you a lot, and he’s very proud of what you’ve accomplished already. ”

“Really?”

Jake chuckles, and it catches me by surprise to see him with his guard down, even if momentarily. “Oh, yeah. There were times he wouldn’t shut up about you.”

My brother was supportive of me once I started singing in high school and later performing. Still, it means a lot to hear that he bragged about me to other Rangers.

When I look back at Jake, he’s watching me closely.

“I like that you’re not backing down.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes at him. “That’s not what it feels like right now. It feels like the stalker has already won by making me run away from my home.”

“No, Izzy,” Jake says firmly. “That’s the wrong way to look at it. You were cornered, so you retreated to safety to reassess and neutralize the problem.”

“I’m scared,” I admit, fidgeting in my seat and swatting at a mosquito flying in front of me.

“I know.” He reaches over and covers my hand with his, the contact sending electricity shooting up my arm.

I turn my hand palm up, threading our fingers together before I fully understand what I’m doing. “Thank you. For helping to protect me and figure this out. It means a lot.”

Something shifts in Jake’s expression, and heat blazes in his eyes. He traces a thumb across my knuckles, and my core blazes to life.

The moment stretches between us. His eyes drop to my mouth for a second, so quickly that I might have imagined it, but it’s enough to make my core explode in molten desire.

Before either of us can move, Jake’s phone buzzes. The spell breaks, and he pulls his hand away to read the message.

“I have to take this,” he says, standing quickly and walking out into the yard.

As he stands in the yard, running his hand over the top of his head, I lean back in my chair and try to process what just happened. The way he looked at me...like he was seeing me not as Hayden’s little sister or as a singer he’d seen on TV, but as a woman he wanted to know.

For the first time since fleeing LA, I feel something other than fear. I feel like everything might turn out okay.