Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
"Fucking hell. You roped Gideon into helping you?" Zion growls. "What the fuck, Zayne?"
"I'm not helping him. I'm just enjoying the shitshow."
"Uh, fuck both of you. This isn't a shitshow. I don't need help. And it's only illegal if the stalking is unwanted." I prefer to think of this as recon.
"We have got to get you a law dictionary," Gideon says around a yawn. "Stalking is stalking. It's all illegal."
"You know what I mean."
Gideon shrugs and closes his eyes again, resting his head against the windowsill. I don't think things are going well with our new client, an up-and-coming musician being stalked—actually stalked—by a fan. He's been in a mood all afternoon. But he's not ready to talk about whatever is on his mind, so I'm waiting him out. He'll talk when he's ready.
"Hasn't she shot you down every time you've asked her out?" Zion asks. "I'm pretty sure that puts whatever the fuck you're doing in unwanted territory."
"She takes care of her grandma and her grandma's twin sister."
"Awesome. You're going to get your ass kicked by two old women when they find out. Gideon, please record this for my posterity."
"I'm not going to get caught." I roll my eyes. "My point is that she's been turnin' me down because she's busy taking care of them."
"Or maybe she just doesn't like you."
"Plausible," Gideon agrees without even opening his eyes.
Ma really should have let me trade them for that bike I wanted from the neighbor when they were little. She wanted siblings. I wanted the bike. It was the perfect trade. Instead, Ma busted me trying to smuggle my brothers out of the house with their overnight bags. I wasn't allowed to have a bike for two years after that. And I had to keep my asshole brothers.
"Does anyone like him?" Zion asks. "Or do we just tolerate him because Ma said we have to at least pretend we like him?"
"B. The answer is B."
I ignore them, my attention focused on the colorful bungalow down the street as Emma steps out onto the front porch, wrestling with a bag of trash. It's bursting at the seams, but she hefts it as high as she can get it and hauls it down to the curb before placing it on the ground. It takes her a minute to open the garbage can and wrestle the bag inside.
By the time she gets it in there, she's panting and mumbling to herself. I smile at the sight, imagining her telling herself off for letting it get so full before she dealt with it. She may be a shy little lamb, but she's got fire in her soul.
Even dressed in fuzzy slippers and pajamas, she's fucking beautiful. I can't help but notice the little shadows under her eyes, though. She hasn't been sleeping enough. Is that because she's up late taking care of her grandmother? Does she have any help at all?
She wraps her arms around herself as if she's cold and glances around.
Shit. Does she sense me watching her?
I hunker down in my truck, hoping she doesn't notice me. Before her gaze gets to our location, though, a delivery truck rounds the corner. She turns in that direction, watching as it approaches.
The driver pulls up in front of her, obscuring my view.
"I called to tell you that you have a new client," Zion says, done talking shit about me with Gideon.
"Can't take it. Busy."
"You don't even know who it is."
"Don't care. I'm busy. You're goin' to have to handle this one."
"She's a model."
I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, impatient for the truck to move. I'm like an addict when it comes to Emma. She's been turning me down for the last month straight, but every no just embeds her more deeply under my skin. Every time I see her, I'm immediately looking for another reason to put myself in her general vicinity.
"Don't care," I say to Zion again. "She could be the fucking Pope, and I wouldn't care. I'm busy. You handle it." Zion doesn't take many clients. He usually runs the day-to-day operations of the business while Gideon and I handle the client work.
He was shot and left for dead five years ago in an operation gone wrong in Syria. It fucked him up for a while, left him with some permanent hearing loss. He doesn't trust his instincts like he did once upon a time, and in this line of work, your instincts are all you've got. He's a hell of a bodyguard, but we don't push him to take clients when it stresses him the fuck out.
Unfortunately, he's the last brother standing at the moment. He's going to have to take it because Gideon is dealing with the musician, Kenna. Camila just signed Gray Larsen, a member of the Nashville Predators, to her client list, which means I'll be sorting out security for him and trying to win my girl. Zion can handle the model.