Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 126840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
It took a beat for her to get pissed.
Yeah, she knew what he was talking about.
“She’s such a disaster,” she bitched.
“Who?” the friend asked.
Hellen turned to her. “My cousin, or my second cousin, Eleanor. She lives in Phoenix. She’s my dad’s uncle’s daughter. She’s bad news.” Her attention returned to Core. “What’s she up to?”
“We don’t know. Rush just wasn’t taking any chances.”
Another look came over her face, and fuck him, he liked that one too.
“He’s so sweet,” Hellen muttered.
“So, you’re her phantom bodyguard who shows up during coffee time, whistles and winks? Is that part of the invisible bodyguard playbook?” the friend asked.
“A woman stares at a man like she wants to climb him like a tree, he’s gotta throw her something, and if you got a dick, that’s definitely in the playbook.” Core replied.
“Valid,” the friend said under her breath.
Hellen wasn’t thinking sweet thoughts anymore.
Not even close.
“I didn’t stare at you like that,” she snapped.
“You totally did,” he returned.
The friend remained silent because Hellen totally did.
“I was admiring your wallet,” Hellen kept at it.
“You were panting after my ass,” he corrected.
“Hardly,” she dismissed.
“Tell yourself that,” he muttered.
“Okay, you are officially the worst bodyguard ever,” she announced.
“Oh yeah?” he asked, then he laid it out. “First, I tailed you from your house, and you didn’t make me. Second, I snuck up on you, got in your space, you didn’t even know I was there. What if I was one of those dudes in the house? You wanna be dragged in there to explain to three guys why you’re dressed like Catwoman on a casual day and snooping in their shit?”
“He has a point there,” the friend said. “Including the ‘Catwoman on a casual day’ comment, which I’ll also note is funny.”
The friend was wearing army green joggers, hot pink trainers and a lighter green sleeveless top with a V front edged in a ruffle.
It said a lot about her she could make that top seem edgy.
“Name?” he asked the friend.
“Marcy.” She offered her hand. “How you doin’?”
He took it, gave it a firm squeeze, let go and said, “Core. And I’d be doin’ great if one of you told me why the fuck we’re all standing here.”
“Maybe we should go somewhere else and talk,” Marcy suggested.
“Maybe you and me should do that and discuss what’s next and he can go back to phantom bodyguarding,” Hellen parried, aiming this at Marcy.
“I’m in,” Core said, also to Marcy, immediately after Hellen stopped speaking. Then he made the plan. “We’ll meet at Moynihan’s.”
After he said that, he left them standing on the sidewalk, rounded his hood, got in his truck and started it up.
He waited behind the wheel, his vehicle humming, going into staredown with Hellen, and this lasted so long, he started chuckling.
She couldn’t hear it, but she saw it, and it made her madder.
Which made him start laughing.
Marcy dragged her to her car.
He followed them to Hellen’s apartment.
He parked and his long legs got him close fast, so he followed them into her pad.
Her complex wasn’t the greatest, it wasn’t the worst. A bunch of fake adobe with different floor plans for the studio, one- and two-bedroom townhome units.
He knew this because he’d dated a woman who lived there and then later partied with some friends who also lived there.
Resurrection had made a deal with the apartment manager (which meant cash had exchanged hands) so they could hang in an empty apartment across from Hellen’s to keep an eye on her. They’d lucked out with this scenario. It was a lot easier to get made, day in and day out, sitting in a vehicle staring at an apartment.
When she let them in, even though he could see some of it through her windows, getting the full view, he was mildly surprised at what he saw.
She was young, but she had her shit tight.
It wasn’t a big place, it wasn’t full of stuff, it wasn’t in-your-face chick either. All of which he approved of.
Whites. Blacks. Grays. Browns. There was space. Room to move. Room to add to what she had. Comfort.
And style.
He liked it.
It was her.
“You want a beer?” Marcy asked as Hellen was turning on some lights.
“Yeah,” he answered at the same time Hellen said, “Don’t get him a beer. He isn’t staying that long.”
In response to that, Core sat his ass on her gray-white couch and stretched his legs out in front of him.
She glared at him.
He smiled at her.
She rolled her eyes.
He smiled bigger.
Marcy came back with beers for all of them.
She handed them around and made a point to park her ass in a brown-leather butterfly chair, which meant Hellen’s only choice was to hit the couch with him.
She looked like she smelled rotten eggs while she did it.
He burst out laughing.
“What’s funny?” she demanded through it.
“You are so into me,” he teased, still laughing.