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“Nothing can dim the light that shines from within.”

– Maya Angelou



It’s cold as fuck here. I could kick the guys’ asses, except I’m not dumb enough to go a round with all of them. Shit, I was a fuckup before my brother came back and shook some damn sense into me. If it weren’t for Drake, I’d probably be in worse shit than what I was doing back then, which wasn’t as bad as most made it out, but illegal fighting wasn’t my smartest move. Not at all. One person could have blown it all up in smoke. The money was there, and I was young, dumb, and full of cum.

Drake came back from overseas and took one look at me, beaten black and blue. Even if I did win the fight, my body surely didn’t show it. The youngest of three boys with parents who were tired of my shit while I was in high school, I pulled away from everyone. Instead of enlisting like Drake or going to school for a trade like Braxton, I went my own way in the gym, morning and night until someone stepped up and told me I could be making money. I was nineteen—money was everything, not the fact I could end up with a concussion or not wake up from one devastating punch or kick to the head.

My brother pulled me out, gave me an outlet to figure out where to land, which ended up being with Nighthawk, becoming the youngest working there. It wasn’t easy. The guys gave me the shittiest assignments and duties. I pushed through though, and now I’m here, in cold-ass Washington.

“I swear to God my dick is going to fall off from frostbite at the rate this year is going,” I mumble to the wind whipping around me. I’m on a break, which is laughable at best. The other guys who are here on duty might as well be pissing in the wind. I’ve been on detail for a few weeks now, met the quote un-quote “Princess Tinsley”. It’s hard to believe she’s twenty. The girl looks like something out of a pin-up magazine. Soft face, kissable lips, skin porcelain white, with dark hair and shots of auburn running through it. Her hourglass figure, ass and tits for days, a tiny waist. It was only amplified by the purple blouse she had tucked into her black pants. Something a teenager wouldn’t be caught dead in back home. I guess when you come from money, this is what’s expected of your children. The mom isn’t much better. She’s always off for tea with her friends or some charity event. She’s not the real client though. Nope, that would be Tinsley. Her dad, Robert Sutton, is some software business mogul along the lines of Bill Gates or some such shit, and that’s where shit gets dicey. He’s in some heavy negotiations with his newest app with a developer. About a month ago, when Robert received an email, not thinking much of it, he let it go. Then they started coming in every other day. That’s when we—well, mainly myself—were called in. Robert has two other guys here, rent-a-bodyguard types. Hell, neither of them carry a firearm, let alone hear me approaching. It’s a damn shame.

“I have somewhere you can keep it warm,” a soft voice says. Tinsley thought she was slick thinking I wouldn’t hear her coming around the corner. I clocked her the second the door opened, letting light filter through the darkness in the garden.

“That’s one hell of an offer. Think your dear old daddy would like to hear that you’re coming on to the hired help?” I look at her, really take her in. Her face is void of the makeup she had on earlier, the glad rags are gone, and now she’s in something that I know if I don’t get her fine ass back inside, I will one hundred percent take her up on the offer. The miniscule top she’s wearing may be long-sleeved, but it’s showing me that she is without a doubt braless and baring a sliver of skin at her midriff. The shorts aren’t much better either—if the girl moves a certain way, I can see exactly what she’s wearing underneath them.

“I’m not sure he’d care, but the offer’s still there just the same.” Tinsley starts to shiver. I’m so totally fucked. If any of the guys were here, they’d tell me to get shot of her. There’s no way that will happen now. If I’ve learned anything this past week, it’s that Tinsley Sutton is stubborn to the bone.

“Not happening. Let’s get back inside,” I suggest, figuring she won’t go for it, but she shocks me when she spins on her heels. A hiss of breath escapes me. Those fucking shorts are barely covering her ass cheeks.

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