Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
I fall into stride beside a stunning Hispanic woman, keeping my eyes set firmly forward on the security guard. Seriously? All this high-tech detection equipment and this old boy is employed to monitor it? I shake my head in dismay. He must be ready for retirement, and he’s ogling the woman beside me rather than watching me—the 6' 4", towering, suited guy with a Heckler VP9 tucked away.
Okay, I’ll cut the dribbling security guard some slack. He doesn’t know that I have a concealed weapon, but I’m definitely more of a threat than the petite beauty who’s now brushing against my arm, oblivious to the security guard’s lust-filled gaze. Because her eyes are staring dreamily up at me.
I make a point of pressing our arms just a bit closer, winding her in. I hear her catch a breath. Then I make my move, stopping abruptly and turning, as if I’ve forgotten something, being sure to knock her bag from her shoulder.
It happens perfectly.
She yelps, dropping her bag and staggering back. I just catch her arm and steady her before releasing my grip. The contents of her bag scatter at her feet, and I bend to be the gentleman she will soon believe I am.
“Apologies,” I say robotically, gathering up some of her things. She’s soon on the floor with me, as planned, taking more time to straighten out her fitted shirt than help me collect her belongings. I mildly note the thin material hugging what I can see will be pretty tasty tits.
“No problem,” she gushes, just as the security guard joins us, willing to crack his bones so he can crouch to help and hopefully lap up some praise from the dark-haired beauty. Fuck me, I couldn’t have written this any better. I reach behind my back and pull out my gun, having a quick scan before I slide it with just the right force and accuracy across the marble floor on the outside of the X-ray machine. It comes to a smooth stop just under the baggage scanner on the other side.
“Here.” I hand the lady her bag and do the decent thing. I help Old Bones up before he actually cracks a bone. “Okay there?”
“All grand!” He laughs, his chest puffing out as he shakes off my helping hand. I smile on the inside. I actually smile, and it’s a genuine one. He sees me as competition. The mid-seventies, overweight old boy sees me—the thirty-five-year-old, ripped, renowned bodyguard—as a threat. Gotta love his pride.
“After you.” I sweep my arm out in gesture for the woman to lead on once the security guard has taken up his position.
Her smile. I swear, if I had twenty Jacks in me and it was the early hours, I might have taken her up on the blatant offer. I slip my hands into my pockets as she wanders over to the baggage scanner, adopting a shameless, seductive sway of her ample arse as she goes.
I laugh under my breath, but enjoy the show while it lasts, as I step up and empty my pockets of my phone, keys, and wallet, placing them neatly in a tray on the baggage scanner. Then I wander casually through the X-ray machine behind her. The old boy barely even looks at me, probably wouldn’t even hear the sharp chime if I were to set off the alarm. He’s too rapt by that curvy arse heading toward the elevator.
“You’re clear,” he mutters, giving me a brief moment of his eyes before he strolls back to his stool and grunts as he plonks himself on the seat.
Clear? He has no idea. I collect my things, and then dip to tie my shoelace, scooping up my handgun and tucking it back into its rightful place as I rise. Then I make my way to the elevator and join the beauty, glancing up at the floor indicators and joining my hands behind my back.
“Nice tie,” she muses, reaching over and stroking the silk that’s draping the length of my torso.
I fail to hold back my smile at her brashness, my eyes dropping to watch her fingers caress the material. “A lady who knows what she wants,” I say quietly, meeting her eyes. “Some men find that attractive.”
She bites her lip, pushing her chest out discreetly as she drops my tie. “They do?”
I laugh under my breath at her feigned innocence. “Apparently.” The doors to the left-hand elevator slide open, and I stroll in before her. No need for gentlemanly manners now. She’s served her purpose. I turn and press the button for the fiftieth floor. “Shame I’m not one of them. It’s been a pleasure.” I wink cheekily, just catching her look of incredulity before the mirrored doors meet in the middle. For yet another woman who’s encountered me, I’m a fucking bastard. Story of my life. Or, at least, for the past four years.