Page 3 of Enforcer Book Boyfriend

Grace

I waited for the notification on my phone that had become my nightly hit of adrenaline. When it finally came through, my heart kicked up a notch.

“Evening, Gracie.” Dillon’s message flashed across the screen with the special name he had given me.

“Hey.” I shot back, my fingers flying over the screen of my device. We had been speaking every other day for a week, but every time he reached out, I couldn’t help but feel like it was the first time. “What’s your poison tonight?” He usually reached out after he finished his work for the day. Unless he couldn’t. I would only admit to myself how much I missed talking to him when he was ‘working’ late.

“Same as always, whiskey and a side of danger.” His reply came quick, a digital smirk in the dark.

“Sounds like a hell of a nightcap.”

“Keeps life interesting,” Dillon typed back.

We danced around each other with words, sharing bits and pieces of ourselves between lines of banter. My foot tapped a restless rhythm on the hardwood floor as I told him about the monotony of my day job, the one that paid the bills but strangled my soul.

“Must be nice, having a routine,” he replied. And there it was, the opening I’d been waiting for.

“Is it? Your lifestyle sounds more… exhilarating.” I hesitated before tapping the send button. The word ‘dangerous’ glowed brightly in my mind like a neon sign in the night.

“Exhilarating, huh?” Dillon’s response was almost immediate. “You could say that.”

“Tell me,” I pressed. “I want to know what it’s like, living on the edge.”

“Gracie, you have no idea.” There was a pause. I imagined him on the other side, considering how much to reveal. “Let’s just say my office is the streets, and my business meetings can end with more than just a handshake.”

“Because of your mafia connections?” The question hung there, bold and brazen.

“Who said anything about the mafia?” His teasing words couldn’t mask the underlying edge.

“Come on, Dillon. Don’t forget where we met and who my fantasy Book Boyfriend would be. Is it true? Are you part of the mafia?”

“Well, making assumptions about people can be a dangerous hobby, Gracie. Believing them can get you in even more trouble.” His warning was wrapped in a virtual wink.

“Maybe I like a bit of trouble,” I countered. “Maybe I don’t buy the bad boy act unless you give me something real. Prove it.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Dillon wrote back. But his words weren’t a deterrent; they only pulled me deeper into the shadows where he lived.

“Try me.” My challenge was out there, hanging between us. This wasn’t just curiosity anymore; it was a craving, an obsession to peel away the layers of the enigma that was Dillon.

“Alright, Gracie,” he finally said. “But remember, some doors can’t be closed once they’re opened.”

“Then let’s open them wide,” I replied, ready to step through, ready for whatever lay on the other side. “I’m ready for everything you got.” It wasn’t a total lie, but close enough to the truth that I had no problem putting the words out there.

As I waited for Dillon’s reply, the silence of anticipation stretched out, punctuated only by the occasional buzz of a late-night text from a friend I was currently ignoring. This—this encrypted conversation with a man shrouded in whispers of danger—was my sole focus. We had exchanged pictures and face-timed a few times to confirm we were speaking with the right person. After the first sight of him, my dreams were filled with scenes of the two of us entwined and writhing on my bed. Yes, the man was sexy as hell, and I couldn’t wait to move things forward.

“Alright Gracie,” Dillon’s words flickered onto the screen, “you asked for it.”

I leaned in closer, my pulse speeding up with each word he typed.

“Ever stared down the barrel of a gun and felt that icy trickle down your spine? That’s a Tuesday for me.” His messages came in bursts, raw snapshots of his life that were more thrilling than any crime novel on my shelf.

My eyes widened at the words. “Jesus, Dillon… that’s intense.”

“Intense is one word for it. Addictive is another,” he shot back. “There’s something about the moment right before the trigger pulls. Time slows, your senses heighten, and you’re painfully alive.”

“Sounds like a hell of a rush,” I admitted, the idea alone sending a shiver through my veins.

“Better than any drug. But it’s not just the rush—it’s survival. It’s knowing I can handle anything thrown my way. That’s power, Gracie. Pure, unfettered power.”

---