Page 25 of Protection (Mobsters + Billionaires 2)
“Yeah, Hop. I might just do that.”
I fish my earbuds from my pocket and pop them in as I head out. Mads’ amused chuckle is music to my ears. At least he can still laugh.
“I have a feeling that if this guy understood Hopper was in the mix, he might not find me so interesting after all.”
“That’s not a bad idea. Let me put Hopper on your detail for a couple of days.”
“Nice try, Anthony. I'm not going to live my life with a bodyguard riding my ass.”
I bite back a smile, secretly loving his stubbornness. Even if I’ve already decided I’ll be watching over him whether he likes it or not.
I hail a cab and press two hundred dollars into the driver’s palm as I give her the address. “Quick as you can.”
Ten harrowing, brutally efficient, law-breaking minutes later, the driver drops me off catty-corner from the coffee shop. Mads is in a corner booth, and despite the warm weather and my strenuous objections, he’s wearing his bright-orange puffer jacket, his hands wrapped around an enormous mug of coffee.
There’s no immediate danger, so I take the crosswalk at a jog. When I walk in, his big brown eyes brighten, and a gentle smile spreads across his face. Being in his presence makes me feel like a bottle of champagne right before it’s opened. He hops up to greet me with a hug, and effervescence fills my chest.
“I’m so stupid.”
“You are not stupid,” I whisper, tugging him closer, surreptitiously smelling him. Woodsy. Expensive.
A few moments later, Mads steps out of our embrace, and I hold back my protest. “Thank you for coming so quickly, Anthony. He’s gone now, of course.”
The sound of my name on his lips is an aphrodisiac, trickling from my ear down my neck, spreading through my chest and belly until it cradles my balls.
That’s…quite the visualization. One I’ll be keeping to myself, even as I adjust to the thickening sensation down below. Focus on the stalker, Edgerton.
My eyes drift to his, and I find amusement.
“What?” I ask, checking my outfit and running a quick hand through my hair.
“Did you wait for the signal before crossing the street?”
I scowl and adjust my collar.
“What if he’d had a knife to my throat?”
I open my mouth in protest. “Mads, I’d never let anyone—”
He stops me with a look. “I know that, Anthony. You would never let anyone harm a hair on my head. And if they did, you’d send in Hopper.”
I shake my head, looking off to the side. “If you were in danger, I’d take care of them myself.”
He goes quiet. Have I revealed too much? Thankfully, two of my men arrive outside the shop, and I refocus on the task at hand.
We silently acknowledge one another, and they go to work. Turning to Mads, I let him in on the order of operations. “I’ve got my men doing a sweep of this place and everything within a couple of blocks. My guys back at the office are pulling up video feeds to see if we can see anything. You and me, we’re gonna sit here and chill while they do their job. They’ll release us when they know it’s safe to go back on the street.”
He lets out a disgruntled sigh but winks at me before leading me to his corner booth. Our closeness in the small space highlights the stark contrasts between us—I’m brawny in all-black, and he’s delicate, forever swimming in bright orange.
Cat, Mads’ favorite barista, comes by and sets a steaming mug in front of me. I raise my brow and Mads shrugs.
“I got you a coffee.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, sipping the strong brew. It’s hard to blame Mads for coming here the second he thought it was safe.
“Ugh. How do you drink it black?” Mads asks, swirling the creamy sugar concoction in his cup, and I wonder if there’s any coffee in there at all.
“Coffee’s just a means to an end. It doesn’t have to be pleasant,” I answer.
