Page 54 of The Chance

I smirk, one that has absolutely no humor, and turn on my heel to walk away from him.

“I’m sure you’ve heard all about idols.” I toss over my shoulder like a royal asshole and stalk my miserable ass down the alleyway.

It’s not my fault you’re not supposed to meet them.

I shake the thought as I reach the blacked-out SUV and nearly yank the handle off to open it.

Climbing up into the vehicle, I slam the door behind me with a loud thud that shakes the car.

I just wanna be left alone.

But I know that’s not going to happen anytime soon, thanks to the driver’s side door opening and Paul climbing in to move us to the next location.

The cityscape passes quickly, the streetlamps passing us at a whirl. The roads become highways and I can’t help the mashing of my teeth when Paul’s silence ends up pissing me off even more.

Jordan knew I hated the quiet.

My knee bounces out of control in the passenger seat of the SUV as we pass yet another convenience shop that reminds me of him.

My chest aches enough that I pull my legs up to circle my arms around them in hopes to ease the pressure, or at least hold back the memories that flood me.

But I wouldn’t be so damn lucky.

Part II

Chapter Thirty-Five

Mac

Six months later

“They finally brought meon full time.”

After enough silence to drive even a monk mad, my temp bodyguard decides now is the time to sharethiswith me, as if I’d be as ecstatic about the news as he is.

Spoiler alert: I’m fucking not.

“I thought the roster was full.” I manage to ask him over the rim of my glass, a roach hanging by a thread from my lips to keep it from burning my skin.

Paul shrugs and helps himself to the bottle sitting by my elbow. “Guess they canned someone or something.” He speaks as he pours, completely ignoring the judgement clearly painted on my face when he shoots the alcohol back.

“Um.” Plucking the roach from my lips, I point at him with the two fingers that I pinch it between. “You’re on fucking duty.”

His repeated shrug sets my blood to boil, because while I might not like life right now, I’d still like to keep it in case it gets fucking better.

“I can’t celebrate?”

“Fuck no.” I swipe the bottle from his grasp when he attempts to pour another. “Not at the expense ofmyfucking life.” Slamming the glass against the table, I pin him with a glare that bows his shoulders in.

“Shit, Mac, I’m—"

“Sorry?” I fish my phone from my pocket as the words leave my lips. “You better not say you’re fuckingsorry.” Hitting dial on the head of our security team’s number, I put the device to my ear, and pin the disobedient child of a bodyguard who slumps.

Slumps!

“What.” The clipped response begs for a smartass comment that I would have normally fallen into but I scoff into the phone.

“You know who didn’t drink on the job?”

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