Diva (Ironclad Bodyguards Book 2) by Annabel Joseph, Molly Joseph

asked.
    “You know. Fun enough. Crazy enough. People expect this person…”
    “What person? They expect you.”
    “No, they expect Lady Paradise!” She said it too loud, with too much freaked out anger. Where was the nurse? Why was she stuck here with him, melting down, tethered by machines and IVs? “You don’t understand how hard it is to be this famous, exciting person all the time.”
    “Don’t be, then.” He sighed, brushing away her tears. “Rest sometimes. Be human. You’re an amazing human, believe me.” He wiped away more tears, then pushed her bangs back from her eyes. “I keep meaning to ask…are you naturally pink? Or do you dye this?”
    A choked laugh escaped her. It kind of hurt her chest. “It’s not natural,” she admitted. “I’m a blonde.”
    He gave her a look that pretty much substituted for a blonde joke. He wasn’t an asshole, but he wasn’t always nice either. “I like your pink hair,” he said. “And I’m looking forward to more sober performances. I think they’re better. I think you’re more real when you’re not wacked out on chemicals. What do you think?”
    “Maybe.” That was all she was going to give him for now. Maybe she mixed better when she was sober. It was hard to know. “The Lyon festival’s not that big,” she said. “There’s a bigger one the week after, outside Paris.”
    “I know. You have a few days to get up to speed.”
    A few days? She was scared. She didn’t know when she’d become such a coward. She thought maybe it was the first time she’d taken the drugs Marty offered her. It’ll make things easier , he’d said. So not true.
    The nurse returned with a tray of food that looked surprisingly appetizing. “I ordered one for you, too,” she said to Ransom, “even though you aren’t a patient here. You will be,” she scolded in a thicker accent, “if you do not get some rest.”
    The woman looked between the two of them. Lola wondered if she knew their story, that she was a performer, and that this was her bodyguard, who was sometimes a jerk but also sometimes a rock for her to cling to. Maybe he could help her. He was pretty damn strong.
    Ransom thanked the nurse as another woman entered with a tray. Both of them stared at him far longer than necessary before filing out. Lola thought she heard them giggling in the hall.
    She couldn’t blame them. Ransom was hot, which was fucking hard to live with since she wasn’t getting any sex. She tried not to dwell on that as she took inventory of her tray. Chicken, gravy, roll, some kind of white substance that might be mashed potatoes or cauliflower. Apple slices and a pink soufflé thing for dessert. I like your pink hair. That meant a lot, coming from a guy so straitlaced he hardly ever took off his tie.
    He sat back in the chair where he’d slept, and balanced his tray on his lap while she ate in her hospital bed. She wondered how much they were paying him to work with her. This was combat duty for sure, sleeping in a chair in a hospital room, and eating bland hospital food.
    “I don’t want to be in any more hospitals,” she said.
    He looked up at her, mid-bite. She could tell by the way he ate that he’d been really hungry, but he hadn’t left her to go get some food. He’d stayed with her instead so she wouldn’t wake up alone. He was her bodyguard, her protector. Maybe, a little bit, her friend. Crap, she was dissolving in tears again.
    “It’s okay.” His firm, steady voice really made things seem okay. “No more hospitals. We’ll figure things out.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Lightning
    R ansom opened the ecstasy test kit and lined up the reagent bottles beside the white ceramic plate he’d borrowed from the hotel kitchen. They were lingering in Lyon, taking a couple days off before Paris. Lola was mostly better, but her brush with death still haunted him. He had nightmares about running with her to the medical tent, and woke in a cold sweat, gasping for breath.
    They’d