by Aly Martinez
His mouth fell open as he slowly turned his head to me. “So that’s why he helps you every week.”
I laughed and pressed the button. “Actually, no. I do strip aerobics on Friday mornings before breakfast. He likes to come watch.”
His dark eyes widened as he breathed, “Shut the fuck up. Seriously?”
I shook my head and laughed harder. “No. It’s totally the chocolate croissant.”
He bumped me with his shoulder. “I was about to be pissed I was missing the show.”
“You should be. I’m fucking killer on a pole. I’ve won the Chicago Strip Club Championship for three years in a row.”
The elevator door opened and I exited.
Devon didn’t follow me. “No fucking way.”
“Don’t look so surprised. If it hadn’t been for that trifling ho oiling the stage, it would have been four years in a row.”
The shock remained on his face as he slowly stepped out of the elevator. “Did you just call someone a trifling ho?”
I nodded and kept talking over my shoulder as I walked toward the door. “Yep. And don’t get me started on the year before, when she sabotaged me by putting fiberglass in my body glitter. I was itching for a week. I swear, if I hadn’t been sleeping with three of the judges, I wouldn’t have had a shot in hell that year.”
I smiled to myself when his footsteps came to a sudden halt.
“You’re fucking with me,” he stated in disbelief.
“I wish I were.” I flashed my card at the door and pushed it wide, a rush of warm air enveloping me.
There was something about Guardian Protection that eased my soul in ways I hadn’t experienced since my father had died. It was more than just a security firm. Inside that apartment-slash-office, I felt a luxury I had rarely been afforded over the last few years—absolute safety. No one could touch me when I was with my guys.
Not even Apollo.
Devon walked straight to the table and set the mountain of boxes down before turning back to me. “I’m calling bullshit.”
“You can call whatever you want, but I’ve never been able to trust glitter again.”
He narrowed his eyes, and a wicked grin pulled at one side of his mouth. “See, as much as I think you’re full of shit, I’m really enjoying the idea of Rhion the stripper.”
“Watch your fucking mouth, Grant. Let me hear you call her a stripper again,” was drawled in a Southern accent behind me.
I turned to find Alex striding my way. I could have used a lot of colorful adjectives to describe the men of Guardian Protection. But there was only one way to describe Alex Pearson: strong and silent. He was Mr. All-American. Clean cut. Southern gentleman. Former college football player. Handsome in that boy-next-door way. Well, that is if you lived next door to a family of giants. Alex was fucking HUGE. Six-six and, I swear, nearly as wide as he was tall.
I craned my head back. “Good morning to you, too.”
He went straight to the box of bagels, reached in, and pulled three out. “How’d Bible study go this morning?”
“Bible study!” Devon laughed, arching his eyebrow at me. “Was this before or after the strip show?”
“Who’s stripping?” Braydon asked, sauntering in and reaching around Alex to grab a muffin from the pastry box.
Braydon Hughes was the youngest of the Guardian crew. He was tall and well-built but much more on the lanky side of the spectrum compared to Alex. While Braydon and I weren’t particularly close, I still thought he was extremely charming and a blast to hang out with. So much so that I managed to overlook the fact that he was a raging womanizer. Though I probably should have been offended that he’d never hit on me. Not even before he had known that Johnson would have ripped his arms off.
“No one,” Alex growled at the same time Devon answered, “Rhion.”
Braydon smirked, popping his sexy, sexy—dear God, it bears repeating—sexy dimple. “What happened? You getting out of the cake-decorating business?”
“We got cake today?” Lark asked, lifting the lid on the box. His thick shoulders fell when he found the usual.
“Sorry,” I laughed at his disappointment. The man loved his sweets. “Have an apple fritter,” I suggested.
Jeremy Lark was the resident family man at Guardian. He had to have been at least forty, but he still had a head full of thick, auburn hair. He loved to brag about it to all of the guys who had so much as a hint of a receding hairline. He’d settled down later in life, saying he hadn’t found the right woman before. And, clearly, he still hadn’t, because six months ago, he’d gotten a divorce. It made me a bad person, but I was happy at the news. Mainly because his ex-wife was a raging bitch. But also because he had three-year-old twin girls he got from their mother every other weekend. And, if Lark was called in on one of those days, he’d drop the girls off with me. I got a whole day of princesses, ponytails, junk food, and painted nails.
“Rhion’s apparently a stripper. But don’t worry. She manages to fit this in between running a Bible study and her cake-decorating business,” Devon filled in.
Lark tipped his head to the side and then asked around a mouthful of fritter, “Does that mean you’re giving up the tattoo shop?”
I laughed as they all stared at me. They were thoroughly perplexed but not fazed enough to stop shoving food into their mouths.
I turned to make my escape. “Right. Well, I should probably let Johnson know breakfast is here.”
Devon caught my arm. “Not until you reward me for my chivalry by way of a chocolate croissant.”
“Don’t you dare give that asshole my croissant,” Johnson rumbled as he rounded the corner.
I spun to face him, my smile growing wide as I laid eyes on him. Aidan Johnson was hot in the most unorthodox way possible. He may not have resembled the Prince Charming little girls dreamed about, but he’d never once walked into a room without turning the head of every woman there. He sure as hell had turned mine the day he had shown up at my door, reporting for duty.
“Sorry. A deal is a deal.” I made a show of lifting the pastry in the air like a precious jewel and then presenting it to Devon with a bow while whispering, “He who helps me shall receive the coveted chocolate croissant.”
Devon didn’t waste a second before taking a huge bite and flashing Johnson a closed-mouth, chewing grin.
I giggled as Johnson scowled at both of us, but his hand dropped to my lower back as he leaned past me to grab a bagel.
“Where ya been hiding?” he asked. “I was about to bust your door down. We seriously need to talk.”
I swung my gaze around the room and then whispered, “I’ve been…working.”
A sparkle of understanding hit his eyes. “Oh yeah?”
I nodded enthusiastically.
His hard face softened, and a smile that warmed me from the inside out pulled at his lips. “Finally.” He lifted the bagel to his mouth and clamped it between his teeth as he went back for two of the muffins.
“Any chance you can enlighten us on what exactly that work is?” Braydon asked.
Johnson removed his bagel from his mouth and replied, “Computer hacker.”
“Bullshit,” Devon groaned.
Lark, Braydon, and Alex all mumbled a similar sentiment.
I ignored them. Tipping my head back to catch Johnson’s attention, I asked, “Everything okay this morning?”
He stopped chewing and arched a thick, black eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”
“Because Devon is currently eating your specially requested chocolate croissant for the very first time in over two years.”
He settled the muffins on a napkin and folded the edges over so he could carry them in one hand. “I’ve been helping Leo prep the new guy. Speaking of, I gotta get going.” He started to back away. “Hey, I’m home this weekend. You and me need to have a talk. Wanna grab a drink tonight?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Devon answered.
“I’m free,” Braydon added.
&nbs
p; Alex sighed. “All right. If everyone is going, I’m in.”
Johnson glared at them. “I was talking to Rhion.”
“You know, I could get a sitter. Maybe come out after the girls go to bed,” Lark announced, ignoring Johnson.
“Guys’ night out!” I exclaimed before turning my best doe eyes on Johnson. “And me!”
It could be said that Johnson wasn’t exactly the most social person. Group activities were as high on his list of desires as an unmedicated root canal.
However, he knew I’d been struggling recently and he lacked the ability to tell me no.
He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, muttering, “For fuck’s sake. Yeah. Fine. Whatever.” He waved his handful of muffins in the air and pointed them at the guys. “Work out the details with these assholes and let me know.”
I smiled in victory. “Thanks, sweetie.”
“Don’t thank me yet. First round’s on you.”
I nodded—like a million times. “I can do that.”
Shaking his head, he turned around and started out of the room, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t forget to pick up your paycheck from the slaughterhouse.”
My lips stretched so wide that I feared my smile would swallow my face.
The guys broke out into a symphony of disgust and disbelief.
“Thanks for the reminder! Have a good day, and stay safe. Remember to look both ways before you cross the street, and don’t talk to strangers.”
He offered a salute with his bagel before disappearing out the door.
I watched from the passenger seat as Leo scrolled through his phone, stopping every once in a while to type out a message. The engine on the black Escalade was running, but he’d not even put it in reverse in the over fifteen minutes we’d been sitting there.
And that didn’t include the twenty minutes I’d been waiting in the parking garage before he had come down.
“Anything I can help with?” I asked.
He kept his eyes on his phone. “Nah. Just killing time answering some e-mails.”
Killing time? We were supposed to be on our way to my first assignment. It wasn’t much. One of Leo’s bigwig clients’ kids was having a sixteenth birthday party and I’d been chosen for the elite position of working security. I could only imagine that meant making sure the nerds didn’t sneak in, the goths weren’t too goth, and none of the wannabe socialites spiked the punch. But, after the week I’d had, I would have tripped over my own dick while racing to volunteer for the job just to get out of that godforsaken office.
“Gotcha,” I replied, scrubbing my palms over my slacks and going back to staring at the cracks on the cement wall of the parking garage.
It was official. I hated this job. And, to make matters worse, I still hadn’t found an apartment that wasn’t a hellhole in my price range. You would think that, coming from LA, I’d have been used to being robbed on rent. Oh, but Chicago was a different kind of criminal. Even a place in the burbs was insane.
As the days ticked on, I regretted more and more the decision to come back to Illinois. I couldn’t sleep. My Butterfly had been haunting me more in the last week than she had in years. Every time I closed my eyes, I watched her fall. And, thanks to Johnson’s stunt with my phone, at first, I couldn’t even call Valerie—the only one who knew about the nightmares. Luckily, midweek, I’d been able to get a new personal phone and recover her number by using the digital voodoo known as The Cloud. Talking to her helped in some ways, but in other ways, it made it worse. I never should have left her in LA.
Right as I decided to shoot her a text, Leo caught my attention.
“Finally,” he muttered, dropping his phone into the cup holder and then yanking the truck into reverse.
Thank. Fuck, I thought. Well, that was until I caught sight of a pair of black gauges in the side mirror.
“Here,” Johnson said, climbing into the backseat and then shoving a fist full of muffins between the two front seats.
Oh hell no. This is not fucking happening.
Leo eagerly took one.
But I shook my head. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
“Take the goddamn muffin,” Johnson pressed.
Propping my hand on the back of Leo’s driver seat, I turned all the way around, giving Johnson my full attention. “I said I’m good.”
He cocked his head to the side, his hard jaw turning to granite. “You got a fucking problem, Levitt?”
I did. I so fucking did.
Johnson had been riding my ass since our run-in on Monday. It wasn’t like I’d never worked with a prick before though. Hell, in LA, there were more pricks than not. I’d become quite skilled at ignoring the office bullshit. However, not even I was skilled enough to ignore the boss.
Yep. My boss. Such was my shitty luck.
As it turned out, Aidan Johnson was not only Leo’s best friend, but also his number two at Guardian Protection. From what I’d gathered, Leo handled the clients while Johnson managed the men.
Needless to say, this made his fucking with me exponentially easier.
On Tuesday, I’d shown up at a quarter to seven only to realize I’d never been issued a security card. I stood in the garage for a full hour, pressing the buzzer on the elevator to no avail, before one of the other guys showed up. Fun fact I’d also not been told: Work starts at eight. Seven is only on Mondays for the weekly meeting. When I finally walked through the front door, it was approximately two minutes past eight, and Johnson then chewed my ass for being late on the second day.
I refused to leave that day without a card for the elevator and the front door. Conveniently, Johnson stayed locked in his office all afternoon. It was seven p.m. before he got his shit together and gave me one.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when I showed up on Wednesday and the damn thing didn’t work. Yet, somehow, I still was. When I finally gotten through the front door—a mere sixty seconds before the clock struck eight—I was informed that my new-hire paperwork had been misplaced. I sat in Leo’s office for two goddamn hours, filling out a second set. No sooner than I was on the last page, Johnson sauntered in with a file folder in his hand, stating he’d found it. Sure, this could have been some clerical error, but the wink Johnson tossed my way as he let me know he’d rearranged the guys in order to cover my assignment for the day—my first assignment—said otherwise. It all worked out though. At least according to him, because I got to spend the rest of the day in his office, watching actual VHS tapes about sexual harassment and professionalism.
Then, on Thursday, my new access card miraculously worked after I’d gotten there at six thirty to ensure I got inside on time. When he rolled in at well past nine, he let me know that he’d “forgotten” to tell me that I was being trained in the security room that night—at eleven p.m. So, basically, I’d hauled my ass up there for no reason other than for him to fuck with me. I happily went home and then dragged myself back up there at eleven only to find out there was a full-time staff in the security room and the guys who worked in the field—like myself—were barely allowed to step foot in there, much less “train” on how to work the equipment.
So yeah, when I’d shown up this morning, I’d been exhausted and sick of his bullshit. And, boss or not, I was done taking it.
Holding his gaze, I seethed, “Sorry. I missed the page in the employee handbook where not eating a fucking muffin was a problem.”
He regarded me impassively as he stated, “Page twelve. Paragraph three.”
I gritted my teeth. “You know what? Fuck you.”
“Jesus Christ, what the hell is with you two?” Leo chimed in. “It’s a goddamn muffin, not arsenic. I’ll eat it.”
“Why are you here?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Making sure you don’t fuck this up.”
My blood boiled. “It’s a kid’s birthday party. I’m relatively sure I can handle it.”
He grinned arrogantly. “See, I’m not sure I agree.”
“What is your fucking
problem with me?” I kept my gaze locked on Johnson but turned my words to Leo. “No disrespect, Leo. I appreciate the opportunity. But I’m done with the games. You want to ride along and introduce me to your client? Great.” I jerked my chin toward Johnson. “But I don’t need a babysitter. Either you need to have a word with your partner here or I’m going to have to seek employment elsewhere.”
Johnson clapped his hands. “Fan-fucking-tastic idea.”
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa,” Leo said, slamming the truck back into park. “What the hell is going on here?”
Johnson opened his mouth, but I got there first. “In short, I’m quitting or you’re kicking this piece of shit out of the car.”
Leo’s head snapped back, an impressed grin twitching at his lips. “Oh, really?”
I shoved my door open and returned his glare. “Really. I wanted to be here. To work for the best—with the best. But I’ve been here a week and, with the exception of having to replace my phone, spending an entire afternoon watching bad ’80s sexual harassment videos, and getting my chain yanked around about my schedule, I’ve done not one thing productive. I appreciate the opportunity. I do. But, if this is how you operate, maybe I’m not a good fit for Guardian.”
Leo blinked at me for several seconds. Then, using his thumb and his forefinger, he wiped around the corners of his mouth before lifting his gaze to the rearview mirror. “Sexual harassment videos?”
Johnson smirked. “Found ’em on Ebay. Cheap as shit. Overnight shipping was a bitch though. The hardest part was finding a VCR. That damn thing cost me a fucking mint.” His grin faded as he leaned back in the seat and folded his thick arms over his chest. “Besides, I think it would be good for all the guys to watch ’em.”
This. Motherfucker.
Leo continued to stare at him in the mirror. “The only female employee we got is my wife. Someone sexually harasses her, they end up jobless and, more than likely, lifeless. I think we’re safe.”
“Can’t ever be too safe,” Johnson replied sardonically.
Leo’s eyes narrowed on his friend. “You gonna tell me what this is really about?”
