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As I get closer, the voices rise and fall, and though they’re quieter now, they hold a harsh edge.
I look at the door where the girl and boy clearly are—same number as Karlee’s scheduled class.
Easing the door open, I’m about to cross the room and grab the asshole. But I don’t because the girl’s got her hand on his dick.
My brows raise. Sexually aggressive wasn’t on the list of things about Karlee. It might not be her, but I think it is. Her hair’s black and long with a soft wave and a streak of purple. She’s wearing cream-colored long over-the-knee socks, chunkybuckled boots that look like they could give a punk a run for his money, a plaid mini kilt, and a sweet white button-down top.
It’s the girl from the photo in the folder, all right.
The guy slaps her hand and hisses something in her ear. She doesn’t let go, lifts her head, smiles at him, and then?—
My balls contract in sympathy.
She grabs his junk and gives a vicious twist. The guy screams in a high-pitched wobbly voice, and she does it again. Then she lets go as he falls.
Karlee MacNamara picks up a leather backpack and slings it on, along with a phone in some black cracked-looking case, and stares at him. “And that’s what you get, Brandon, for trying to intimidate me. Next time, I won’t be nice.”
She sees me and falters, eyes wide as she takes me in, and she’s a punch to the guts. The big violet eyes, the soft pink full lips, the take no prisoners but torture them tilt to her chin.
Then she stomps up. “Enjoy the show?”
“You seemed to be handling it. Lover’s tiff?”
I don’t really want to know if it is or not, and yet I’m intrigued. It didn’t seem like it. So, I’m thinking this is Mr. Mad at Karlee.
“Hardly. Just a difference of opinions.” And she sweeps by me.
It doesn’t take much to catch up with her. For most, she’s not a short girl, maybe 5’6 or 7, but I’m 6’5”. That’s a fucking big difference. To most men, it’s like she’s five feet tall. And I don’t really know why I’m thinking of this.
She suddenly stops and turns. “Are you stalking me?”
“Hardly.” Yeah, she’s a fucking brat. I come up to her. Nicolo’s waiting in the SUV. “We need to get this show on the road.”
She takes one step back. “And why would I want to get anything on with you?”
“Poor choice of words.” I take her arm and hold it firmly so she can’t get away. “I’m Fallon’s friend, Tizio Manolo. He’s out of town longer than expected and asked me to step in and keep an eye on you.”
“No way.” Her eyes widening, as she gapes.
“Yes, way.” I give her a small grin. “I’m in charge of you, Karlee. So come on, the car awaits. Like it or not, you’re coming with me.
Chapter Two
KARLEE
My brother’s big, and this man’s bigger. Fallon’s lean and probably deadly. This . . . this Tizio most likely has a secret talent that turns him into a human whack-a-mole mallet.
Or is that a superpower?
“Come on, shorty, move it, I’ve got shit to do.”
I glare at him as he releases my arm, and I make a show of rubbing it. He doesn’t look in the least bit bothered. “You know what that word means, right?”
“You’re a lot shorter than me?” Tizio shakes his head. “Yeah, I’m fucking aware of the other meaning, but in this case it’s stature-wise.”
He’s a prick. Hot, all dark hair and dark amber-eyed smoky goodness, but a bossy prick.
The only reason I didn’t freak when he showed up ordering me about is he’s so the kind of man Fallon would send to watch me. As if I can’t take care of myself.
