Page 60 of Escape from the Green

And my heart lodged up in my throat before I forced it back down.

"It's probably my super."

"Super?" Drake parroted.

"He like... runs things."

"Why would he be here?"

My air huffed out of my nose; I shook my head. "He, ah, he..."

"He knows she's a woman living here alone. And that she's pretty," Smoky supplied in a tone that said it was idiotic of them not to have realized it themselves.

Drake's spine straightened, moving across my apartment in two long strides, reaching for the knob, and nearly ripping the door off its hinges as he yanked it open.

"Can I help you?" he asked, voice a booming sound, something that made Ivon shrink back a bit as his eyes raked over the somewhat intimidating presence in the doorway.

"Is Amy here?" he asked, coughing a bit, trying to regain some of his lost bravado.

Even as I moved across the floor, Drake half-turned, giving me room to step into view. But as soon as I was a foot away, his arm dropped down on my shoulders, making me sink down an inch or two under the weight as he curled me into his side.

Protectively.

Possessively.

Man-Language.

That was what this was called. This unspoken conversation in which everything is communicated silently, and testosterone flowed freely.

Drake was claiming me.

As his.

To this man who clearly had less than honorable intentions toward me.

I knew it was fake, for show, just a message being relayed, but try to tell that to my belly that went warm and gooey at it.

And while it likely just looked like I was playing along, a part of me knew it wasn't all for show when my hand snaked up the firm line of his belly to settle there. Familiarly. Lovingly.

"Can I help you?" I asked, smiling at the man who so often leered at me.

"I just wanted to make sure you were in. I heard noise up here. You aren't usually in on Sunday afternoons."

That was a bit more than mildly creepy that he knew my schedule so intimately.

"We needed to grab some supplies for a weekend away," Drake supplied. "I appreciate you checking on my girl," Drake said, not sounding the least bit appreciative. "But I've got it from here."

Ivon's gaze went to me, a mix of annoyed and determined. "You sure you're alright, Amy?" he asked, raising a brow at Drake. "He doesn't seem your type."

"Well, I can assure you that some middle-aged, slimy super definitely isn't her type."

"Oh, fun," Smoky's voice chimed in, making everyone turn to see her standing there, wicked gleam in her eyes to match the smirk on her face. "Are we about to whip them out and compare sizes?" she asked, making my cheeks warm at the implication. "My wager is on Drake's being bigger."

"Amy," Ivon said, face twisted up in a mix of anger and embarrassment, "I'd thought you'd have made better friends. It's dangerous to get mixed up in the wrong crowd."

Annoyance prickled over my skin - a lifetime of being told everyone else knew better for me than I knew for myself. "I will take that under advisement. If you'll excuse us, we have somewhere to be."

Inwardly, I cringed a bit at the realization that, at times, when I was being snarky or superior, I had a tendency to channel my mother. It wasn't an ability I could claim I was happy to possess. But at least it made my nosy super turn and leave, mumbling under his breath as he went.