Page 21 of For Cowgirls and Kings
My teeth grind, jaw popping, and I lean back, pushing air out of my nose. I need to calm the fuck down. Showing up at her place, like this, will only end badly. Dale is extremely private, and even more defensive. I don’t want to show up, guns blazing, and expect her to welcome me with open arms.
Especially, as camera’s are secretly being installed surrounding her house.
It’s for her safety.
I repeat the mantra for the hundredth time today, only half convinced. And if I can barely convince myself, how will I convince her?If she ever finds out, that is.
Her house comes into view, the street lamps illuminating the car parked around the side, out of view of her windows, and the shadowed man walking across the lawn like he doesn’t have a fucking care in the world.
What if her neighbors see him?
My chest constricts. This was a really stupid idea. I could go to fucking jail for this. Not to mention, lose one of my best friends. I’ll have no hope of winning her over if she see’s him or me, or the fucking camera’s.
“Calm down,” I hiss, the hushed words dying out with the fading of the engine, as I park and hop out. My hired guy spots me, turning on his heel to stomp through her grass toward me.Annoyance lines each of his features, and even from here I feel the heat of his glare.
“They’re all installed and live,” he states, his tone all business. He steps closer, the black leather of his jacket bleeding into the night. His shaggy, dirty blonde hair’s the only thing that stands out in the dark, and he runs a frustrated hand through it.
My eyes snap back to his, and I fight a shiver at the chill his proximity brings. A reaper, the tendrils of his evil existence brushing against my own.
What I wouldn't do to be rid of him. Even if he’s good at his job, and not afraid of the less than savory tasks.
“Did she see you?” I bite out, lowering my voice in hopes that he’ll get the hint.
Instead he reaches into his pocket, withdrawing a cigarette, lighting it with a deep inhale before shrugging. The lit end glows like a small beacon, and fear that we’ll be seen spears anew through me. For someone who’s entire existence seems to be carved from shadow, he’s doing a shit job of blending in now.
“Did you want her to see you?” I growl, nodding toward the ember of light.
He drags in another deep inhale, his eyes shrouded in darkness, illuminated only with the small spark dancing in their reflections.
If I wasn’t the one who signed his checks, I’d be afraid of him. But as it is, I trust he’ll keep me around, for now.
“I stayed out of view,” he deadpans, his voice reminiscent of what I imagine chains dragging across the coals of hell sounding like.
“You can go.”
He remains frozen, pulling the poisonous air deep into his lungs for several moments. His eyes remain fixated on my face, searching.
I stay perfectly still, my back erect with the authority he soregularly dismisses, daring him to challenge me. Instead, without his eyes leaving mine, he withdraws the cigarette from between his tightly pressed lips, dropping it to the grass, smashing it with the toe of his boot.
“Why don’t you try talking to her instead of setting up surveillance?”
My eyebrows race to my hair line, completely caught off guard by his words. This is coming from the guy with the moral code of a shark—see weakness,kill.Only a shark would be more merciful, a word this guy can’t even begin to understand.
“How is that any of your business?” I bite out. I don’t keep him on the payroll for his thoughtful contributions. In fact, he’s never once offered me any advice, much less that regarding my own morality.
It fills my mouth with an acrid burn.
He shrugs, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. “Just looking out for you, Boss.”
“Well, don’t. I don’t need your advice.” I fill the word‘your’with as much hate as I can muster, but he doesn’t waver from his stoic stance. Like even if he feels the burn of the words, he rather likes the heat.
He breathes pain. It’s no surprise he revels in it too.
“I’ll be off,” he states, turning around to walk across the yard, his form fading into the muggy darkness of the late night Texas air.
I hear the gravel crunching beneath his tires as he rolls away, waiting until he’s well down the street to turn on the headlights. I watch the tail lights fade into nothingness, before I exhale, releasing my rigid stance.
He’s just trying to get into my fucking head. Probably V’s doing—questioning my authority at every turn. But knowing that he thinks I’m being reckless, or invasive, or whatever the fuck he thinks, doesn’t sit right.
