Page 27 of Unravelling The Hitman: A BWWM Romance

We arrived at the restaurant and he got the bags. In less than three minutes, the chore was done.

On the way back, Humphries kept looking at me.

“Do you have something to say?” I asked.

“It’s about Angel.” He stopped, forcing me to look at him. “She’s mine so I’d appreciate it if you back off.”

“Angel is your woman?”

Humphries dipped his head once.

I strode ahead. “Too bad.”

“What?” Humphries rushed to keep up with me. “What does that mean?”

“I’ll just have to take her from you.”

9

Angel

“Do you want anything to drink?” Rasheed asked, returning to the room with a juice pouch and a fruit snack for Reid. He handed it to the baby who plopped down and began munching contentedly.

“Is it good?” I asked Reid.

He bobbed his head.

I smiled and glanced at Rasheed. “I’ll take water if you have that.”

“Sure thing.” He disappeared through the door and returned a minute later with bottled water.

“Thanks.” I accepted it from him, popped the cap and took a long, refreshing guzzle.

While I drank, my eyes roved Deacon’s office. My cheeks heated when I caught sight of the desk, the birthplace of the naughtiest thoughts I’d ever had in my life.

A memory of Deacon hoisting me up paraded through my mind. He’d asked if I’d wanted to be his hostage and slid his calloused fingers up my thigh.

Speaking of, I needed to change this bathing suit.

My eyes slid to the desk again. I could almost feel Deacon, hovering over me, his hands guiding my legs apart.

Was it getting hot again?

I fanned my face.

“Oh, here.” Rasheed grabbed the air conditioner’s remote, incorrectly assuming the flush on my face was from the heat in the room. “Is that better?”

I gritted my teeth in a pained smile, glad he couldn’t read my mind. “Yeah.”

Forcing my gaze away from the desk, I surveyed the rest of the office. It was surprisingly spacious even though I got the sense it wasn’t that big.

A medium-sized desk stood in the center. Paintings of Caribbean life framed the wall—a sprawling sunset, a blue horizon mirrored in the sea, a thatch hut with a breezy hammock mid-swing. Fake plant in the corner. Desktop computer.

It would have resembled any other boring office if not for the little touches that Reid’s belongings brought to the room. The playpen, hopscotch mat, and toy box whispered that both child and man lived here in harmony.

“Need anything else?” Rasheed asked, watching me as I observed the office.

I chuckled, embarrassed. “No.” In the distance, music played. Laughter rang out. “Do you have customers?” I frowned. “I’m not keeping you from work, am I?”

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