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“Not majorly physical, like… punching me or anything,” she clarified. “A couple times he grabbed my arm—”
“That doesn’t matter. It’s more a question of did he put his hands on you in a non-caring manner,” he explained. “Now, does he carry a knife or gun or anything else?”
“I don’t even see his truck, so you can probably stand down and just watch a super cool derby practice,” she said. “I thought he’d be here to explain to the team why we can’t practice at his warehouse anymore.”
“It’s too late for that,” he murmured, shaking his head. “You hired me and I’m here. And to understand the situation, I need to know if this guy carries a weapon.”
She sighed and took another bite of the sandwich that included the chewy crust. Damn, he was stubborn.
“He has a multi-tool thing, which isn’t really a weapon, and a switchblade,” she finally replied.
“How long is the blade on the switchblade?”
“I think about three or four inches.”
“Have you seen him use it?”
“No.”
“Okay. Was that so hard?” he asked, and she saw the twinkle in his eye.
“Brutally hard,” she teased back with a laugh. “Don’t you want to know if he knows kung fu or anything?”
“I’ll be able to tell if he’s a trained fighter the second I see him,” he replied, and threw the pepperoncini into his mouth and neatly folded the sandwich paper into the tiniest square. As usual, his large, rough hands distracted her.
“Are you a trained fighter?” she asked, letting her gaze slide from those amazing hands to the forearm that showed below his rolled up cuff.
“I learned a few moves from a few guys when I was in prison. Mostly I’m your basic street fighter with a few lethal moves in my back pocket,” he said with a chuckle, then paused. “Does my being in prison shock you?”
His words ripped her gaze from his sinewy muscles to focus on his face. He looked curious and maybe a little invested in what she was about to say.
“Not at all. You did your time, so that’s cool,” she replied. “Plus, it sounds like you’re determined to be my bodyguard tonight, whether or not Luke shows up later. You’re probably overqualified.”
“So you agree you’re hiring me to be your bodyguard? You should know I don’t come cheap,” he teased, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
She smirked, enjoying the sexy tension that coiled in her belly. “How cheap are you?”
“I’m not cheap, although I can be dirty,” he murmured.
“I don’t doubt that for a minute, but I want to keep this professional. Seriously, what would you charge for a night of security?”
“Physical security, where there could be a chance of violence, would be $5,000,” he replied. “And that’s just for three hours.”
That had her mouth dropping open.
“You’re serious? Five grand?”
“I’m always serious when it comes to business,” he replied, and gave her a smug look. “I’m guessing that’s a little more than what your budget will allow.”
“Hah, that’s where you’re wrong,” she said and pulled a bag out of her purse. “I have your fee covered.”
He raised his eyebrow doubtfully and flicked a corner of the bag where a dark smudge of the contents had soaked through.
“I’m skeptical but interested,” he said, his voice dropping to a purr.
“I’ve got a million for you right here,” she said, and handed over the bag.
He took it and peered into the bag.
