Page 51 of The Bodyguard

“People can be paid,” I tell her. “You focus on the who, and we’ll work out the how.”

“It’s not Nick, obviously,” she says, crossing his name off.

It could be.

Babe.

I mentally uncross it. For all we know, he could be setting her up. People do insane things.

Clearly, I don’t like the guy. I don’t like him teasing her. I don’t like him touching her. I don’t...want him near her.

Irrationally.

Also on the list, she’s put Selena Hendrix along with her mom, dad, and sister. There were a few tears as she wrote them, which I ignored and stacked the dishwasher.

Now it’s done.

We have at least twenty people to look into. I plan to send it to the BHS team to dig into key suspect backgrounds and activity for the past few weeks.

Longer if necessary.

I straighten and Savannah spins on her stool. I glance down and Christ, even her painted toes are gorgeous.

That’s not a foot fetish. I just find every inch of this woman sexy as fuck.

I lean my hand on the counter and Savannah runs her eyes up my bare tattooed arm. My shirt came off hours ago, leaving me in a short-sleeved black t-shirt.

“What do your tattoos mean?” she asks.

Huge question.

Her fingers reach out and she sends a shiver right to my damn dick. She runs a circle over the Greek symbol for Delta on the inside of my forearm.

We all got them.

By all I mean the members of my team, which never existed.

Same page?

Good.

“That one there means I have the skills necessary to keep you safe.” I lean in and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Better than most men, sweetheart.”

Crap.

I’m fucking useless at keeping my hands off her.

Those big green eyes lift to mine and she swallows. I can read her damn mind.

Shit.

I shouldn’t be here still.

Two bottles of wine and a sexy woman I had my cock balls deep in twelve hours ago.

“No.” I say, and as I go to move her hand reaches out and grips my t-shirt.

I grab her wrist.

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