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“The boss is going to kill us,” the blond guy says, and my eyes flick to the rearview mirror.
He stares out the window and runs a hand nervously through his hair while I admire the chisel of his jaw and the details of his handsome face. He’s gorgeous, and he has the charm of someone who can take whatever he wants without fear of denial. Whatever doesn’t fall into his lap, I’m sure his thickly lined wallet can handle. I imagine trailing my fingers from his jaw to his chest and then quickly scold myself and turn my attention back to the road.
Jesus, what is wrong with me?I ask myself as though I can answer, but the truth is, I have no idea what the hell is going on. I’m clearly sleep deprived or need to drink more water—I don’t typically fantasize about strangers.
Hell, I haven’t fantasized about anyone in a while.
“Maybe not,” the other says. “Lysander agreed to help us.”
“Yeah, but for almost double what Rafe offered. He’s gonna be pissed.”
“As long as the next deal goes smoothly, he’ll be fine.” I glance at the mirror again in time to see the dark-haired man wave away his companion’s concerns. “You worry too much, Az.”
“Is Az short for something?” The question slips past my lips before I can stop it, and I clamp my mouth shut. It hits me just how rude that was. It’s obvious I’ve been listening to them.
My insatiable curiosity has always been one of my downfalls.
I should probably stop staring and focus on the job at hand, but I can’t help it. Tiny magnets keep tugging my gaze to the mirror so I can soak in as much of them as possible.
The blond man’s full lips are tugged into a smirk, and he leans forward a few inches in his seat when he speaks. “Azarius.”
My eyes shift and I glance at the dark-haired man. “And what’s your name?”
He hesitates, like he’s trying to decide whether or not he trusts me with the information and adjusts himself in the seat.
“Elio,” he says, his accent distorting theoat the end.
“Are you from around here?” I ask. We’re moving again. This street isn’t nearly as crowded as the one before it, so I press the gas pedal further into the floorboard, and we speed down the road.
“No,” Elio says. “We’re just here on business.”
“What kind of work do you do?”
A brief moment of silence passes before he answers. “Real estate.”
The need to press him further burns in my chest, but his serious tone suggests that I drop the topic. That’s fine. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, I won’t risk annoying him, but I don’t plan to stay quiet for the rest of our trip.
We have a long way to go.
Besides, if I’m lucky, one of them might ask for my number.
Or ask for a different kind of ride.
It doesn’t hurt to hope.
“Is this your only job, Devyn?” Azarius changes the subject. Of the two, he seems to be the most personable—his tone is friendlier, as are his facial expressions.
“For now.” Up until a few weeks ago, I was working at a staffing company. When they were bought out, the entire office department was let go, including me. Being an Uber driver was a quick fix, but I’ve put in dozens of job applications since then, praying impatiently for someone to call me back. “I want something slower paced. Running around constantly and dealing with inner city traffic is no fun.”
“It seems fucking awful,” Elio mutters.
I nod, my eyes glued to the road, glad that we can agree on something. “It is. As soon as I’m able to get the hell out of the city, I’m moving somewhere peaceful.”
“Oh?” Azarius pipes. I glance up and his head tilts to the side. “Where do you want to go?”
“It doesn’t matter. Anywhere but here.”
“Are you from Atlanta?” he presses.
