Page 5 of Shield and Savior

Donnie snorts. “Joey makes like fifty percent of his income from people who get off on being told what to do.” Joey and I give Donnie the finger at the same time.

“Shut the fuck up.” Joey sighs and puts away more of the kitchen items, all in the wrong spots. Whenever they decide to leave, I’ll have to fix everything he did so it makes sense to a logical human being. “You’re in danger, and your ex could bring down the whole family, all four of them. I don’t like it. So, your personal protection agent will be here soon.”

I hate living in my cousin’s apartment, putting my kid through all of this. Mostly I hate that one stupid text message when I was sixteen changed my life forever.

Joey’s silent for a lingering moment. He bends over, ripping the tape off a box in one smooth motion. When he’s thinking about the right words, he buys himself more time by busying himself with mundane tasks. When he moves to another box and strips the tape off again, I know I’m in trouble.

Ugh, “What is it?”

He doesn’t take his attention from the box as he opens it and starts to remove my copy ofThe Knights of the Night, Book One. It’s the special edition with sprayed edges. I totally couldn’t afford it and ate Raman for a month while Drew ate his diet of the Mac and Cheese I could never catch on sale. But it’ssopretty. And did they continue the trend for books two and three? No. They resized the rest of the series, and now my bookshelf looks stupid.

Joey’s voice breaks me out of my fan stupor. “He’s one of the best, but he belongs to Alana.”

He holds a reverence for her name. Being out of the loop for a decade means I’ll be asking a lot of questions. I should make a list. Number 1: “Who’s Alana?”

You know how you forget something? Like it’s dead and buried, and then, boom, it instantly reanimates, and now there’s a zombie walking around your consciousness? The glance my brother and cousin share is the same expression Dad used to give my uncles whenever they had dark knowledge that needed to be spoken.

Donnie clues me in first. “She’s got ties to the most powerful families in the world, as well as celebrities, politicians, and CEOs. You name it, and she’s got her fingers in it.”

Translation, not to be fucked with. Got it. And her best agent is coming here? My stomach tightens, and the image of a grizzled man with hidden tattoos representing all the people he’s stabbed pops into my mind.

The front door rattles. “That’s him,” Joey says.

I move one of the smaller boxes out of the way so Joey can navigate the maze of cardboard and open the door.

And what the hell?

Okay, I expected some beefy douche with a neck the size of a tree. Someone who never missed arms, core, or calf day. But this was not the case. Sure, he’s taller than me. Most people are. Probably clocks in at six feet. But the suit looks like he was poured into it. His frame is wide, but not large and cumbersome. His hair leans closer to a muddy blond, darker than dirty blond. His blue tie touches his black leather belt. And I want to see what’s behind it. Is he a boxers or briefs kind of guy? Or that weird combination of both? His face—fuck, his face. Was he carved out of marble?

He smiles, and instantly I see the dimples. Dimples. Are you kidding me? How could anyone be that attractive and still have dimples? Oh, come on.

“Hello.” Ugh, his voice. Rich with a soft timbre to it, making my insides turn to jelly. He reaches his hand out to me, but I lift a box at the same moment, keeping my hands full. “I’m Lance. Can I get that for you, Isabella?” He tilts his head waiting for a response.

What the hell? Why is he offering to help? What sort of man just HELPS? I need to do a red flag test because first impressions have fucked me up before. I shove the box into his hands, and he’s unsure what to do with it. “Call me Izzy.”

“Noted. I’m from Mastodon Security.” He shifts the box onto his hip and extends his hand to me again. I reach out, expecting a handshake, but that’s not what it is. It feels more like a hand hug, tight and safe but moving in a slow, calming motion. Maybe it’s a trick he learned on the job. “I’ll need to do a quick inspection of your apartment.”

Joey offers, “It’s one of mine. I already did a security survey when I rebuilt it.”

Lance nods. “If you could send a report over to Alana’s office, that would be great. We don’t have the full schematics of the building. I’d like to know the weak areas.”

“I can get you a basic outline. I’m not giving you everything, for obvious reasons.”

There’s a microscopic change in Lance’s face, and my stomach twists. He shakes his head, and there’s an edge to his answer. “Unacceptable. If you won’t provide the information, I can’t protect her to the highest extent of my abilities. Which means Alana will have to find the information. And I’m sure you don’t want that.”

Joey pauses and dips his head in a nod, “I’ll have the blueprints sent over in the morning.”

Ugh, I hate this. They’re talking like I’m not here. But then his eyes bore into me. What is the color? Not just brown, but brown with warm undertones. Brown with flecks of gold. Pay attention? Oh, I am. But I shouldn’t be focusing on that.

He clears his throat. “I need to check out the apartment, windows, vents, that sort of thing. If there’s anything sitting out you would prefer to keep private, you should move it now.”

Donnie takes this moment to remind everyone he is still in the room. “Izzy, put your plastic boyfriend away. Lance doesn’t need to see your dildo modeled after some Fae Prince’s schlong.”

Jesus Christ. “Donnie!” Mortified doesn’t begin to cover it.

My asshole brother smirks. “Did you give the Etsy shop info to Joey? Maybe he could order ten for the club.”

Lance’s face remains neutral, but he throws his hand up. “I don’t judge.”

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