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She tilted her head. “You wish to be in my company, no?”
He narrowed his eyes. When he didn’t respond right away, she waved toward a sleek black Benz, the sun beaming down on its sunroof, and out stepped her driver, Samson. “As you can see, my darling. I do not need you to chauffeur me, anywhere. I’ll chauffeur you.”
And with that, she walked off.
He blinked. Then shook his head, and grinned. He was definitely digging her style. She was topnotch. Definitely the type of woman he wanted on his arm.
Word is bond, I’ma bag that…
She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “Well? Are you riding? Or shall I meet you there?”
He pressed the key fob and armed the alarm to his truck, then followed behind her, his eyes taking in the voluptuous and mouthwatering curves o
f her body.
Goddamn.
Samson tipped his hat. “Afternoon, Miss Jansen.” She smiled, then kissed him on the cheek. “Good afternoon, my love. Samson, this here is…”
“Coal,” he answered for her. “What’s good?”
Samson gave him a courtesy head nod, but gritted his teeth as he eyed him slide his big body inside the cabin of the car.
Nairobia smiled. “Be nice,” she whispered, before sliding in after him. Samson shut the door behind her, then opened the driver’s side door and slid behind the wheel.
“Where to, Miss Jansen?”
“The shooting range, please.”
He nodded, then pulled away from the curb, adjusting his rearview mirror and eyeing the intruder in the backseat with his fantasy girl.
“So damn, baby. What’s good with you? I bet you thought I forgot about you, huh?”
Nairobia shifted, angling her body so she could take him in. “I’d actually forgotten all about you,” she said honestly. She wasn’t one to pine over a man for longer than a night, maybe two. After that, it was out of sight, out of mind for her.
He laughed. “Damn. Straight like that, huh? Cool, cool. I dig that. Well, I didn’t forget you, word is bond.”
Nairobia stared at the four-carat diamond in his ear, then glanced over the diamond-encrusted necklace around his neck, then skittered her gaze over the Rolex on his wrist. “What do you do for a living?” she asked.
He caught her gaze. “As I told you in Vegas, me an’ my uncle own several businesses. We have several detail shops and about eight Laundromats.”
She raised a brow. “Legitimate, no?”
“Oh no doubt.”
Samson’s gaze rose to the rearview mirror. Yeah right, motherfucker.
Coal met Samson’s gaze, and scowled. What the fuck, muhfucka? Hatin’-ass pussy.
“Hm.” Nairobia said. “And how many lovers do you take to your bed a night?”
He laughed. “Damn, baby. You don’t eff around, I see. You get right to it, huh?”
“Life is too short not to, my darling.”
“I feel you. I do my thing,” he said, stretching his arm along the back of the seat.
Nairobia gave him a look, then eyed his arm. “And what exactly is this thing you do?”
