Page 22 of My Broken Bodyguard 3: Catch & Bianca
“I don’t think so. She takes all her dates to the playhouse and fucks their brains out,” Jake said.
Anton chuckled. “I think a lot of the guys you spoke to about her are lying. Bianca isn’t a slut. Remember I went to school with her? She’s a nerd. The only things she’s fucking are her books and that laptop.”
I loved that my woman was a nerd.
“Nerds are freaks, Anton. I’m getting my piece of pussy.”
Boy, was he wrong.
I milled around behind the shop for another hour. Eventually, I broke into the circuit breaker box and cut the wires, killing their power.
I heard Anton and Jake discuss the power outage. They made the conscious decision to close early. Anton asked Jake to lock up. He was taking off.
Ten minutes later, I glanced in the window and noticed Anton peeling out of the parking lot. Casually, I strolled into the mechanic area.
“Excuse me, I’d like to pick up my car,” I stated as I ambled toward Jake.
His brown eyes widened. “Shit, man, where did you come from?”
“The back parking lot.” I stabbed a thumb over my shoulder. “I was just taking a look at my car.”
He shrugged as his brows rose on his almond complected face. “Sorry man, I can’t get into the computers. We lost power.”
“That answer is unacceptable,” I snarled as I reached under my dark t-shirt and pulled the Glock from the waist holster.
He was taller than me, but lanky. About six-five. But there was something about a person pushing a gun into your spine. Pretty sure this guy didn’t want to die.
“Let’s take a walk.” I pointed the gun at the back door.
“Come on, man. All this over a car?” he whined as he strolled outside.
Gripping his shoulder, I pushed the barrel into his back as we walked deeper into the yard.
“You asked my woman out on a date. And for whatever reason, she agreed. I’ll handle her.”
“What?” he asked, confusion laced his words.
“Yes, my woman Bianca came to pick up a van. You asked her on a date. You ain’t getting anywhere near my woman.”
“Hey, man. Fine, I’ll ignore her call.”
A chuckle rattled in my throat. “She was never going to fucking call you.”
I squeezed his shoulder, stopping his steps at the driver's side door of the Buick.
“Pop the hood and the trunk,” I ordered.
He did as he was told.
“Walk toward the trunk,” I bit out.
“You thought you’d fuck my woman?”
He rambled on about how he wouldn’t talk to her.
“And to think she thought I was being absurd, because I considered killing any man who looked at her ass.”
Jake gasped. “Hey, man, what are you talking about?” He glanced around.
