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Benji
The air conditioningof the rental SUV blows in my face, keeping me awake as I make my way through New York City. It’s nice to be back here, it’s been a while. But after a red eye flight from Ohio, I didn’t manage to get much sleep, even if I was onboard one of the security firm’s private jets. So now I’m tired, cranky, and hungry.
Not the best version of myself to turn up to a security detail, but beggars can’t be choosers. Once we’re at the safe location, I can catch up on both eating and sleeping. Eventually.
Swiping a hand down my face, I stop at the next set of traffic lights. By the time I got to the airport, took the ninety minute flight, and got boots on the ground again, the sun was rising. And even now, at almost six in the morning, the streets are filled with cars.
Does this city ever sleep?
I stretch my neck from side to side, a yawn tempting my lips as I glance at the sat-nav again. Only two blocks away. Then for me to handle, in Ryan’s words, a handful of a man.
The only details I have of the job I’m being placed on is that he’s in danger from his ex-boyfriend, a fact that immediately stokes anger in my very bones. The reason why I don’t know, or care, to find out all that much, is because my job is to serve and protect, not gossip like a little bitch.
Other than that fact, I know he’s a twenty-five-year-old man, originally from North Carolina, who lives in a studio apartment in the middle of Manhattan and works in a bakery a block away from his home.
The owner of the bakery, his friend and the one who called in the job, knows I’m on my way. The person about to receive my protection, however, does not. Initially, Ryan mentioned we were more costly than they could afford, until he got an understanding of the bigger picture. Which simply means it’s within Featherstone’s best interests that we step in.
As the traffic begins to move again, I move to the right lane, taking the turn like the sat-nav advises, and I immediately spot the pink signage for the bakery I’m looking for.Cake Creations.
Not wanting to be seen out front, I take the next left turn and roll down the alleyway, avoiding the dumpsters and trash from the other surrounding businesses as I go. There’s no signage back here, but based on my calculations, I put the SUV in park five buildings from the end of the row, hoping I’m aligned with the back entrance to the bakery.
Releasing a sigh, I blindly reach for the still-hot coffee I grabbed on my way out of the airport, downing the rest of the harsh and bitter liquid in an attempt to spruce me up before I step out of the vehicle and turn my attention to the steel doors.
The entry point right next to me is slightly ajar and the sweet scent of sugar and icing meets my nose, making my stomach grumble and my cheeks rise in a smile. I’m a sucker for anything sweet. Let's hope that boosts my mood when I step in there.
Locking the SUV behind me, I pry the steel door the rest of the way open before stepping inside. There’s a small, bleak hallway with another door at the end of it with a glass square at the top, allowing me the perfect view into the kitchen space that follows.
Stainless steel worktops fill the space, multiple ovens lining the right side of the room, while other areas seem to be cleared for decorating, and the table tops on the far left are lined with raw cinnamon swirls ready to go in the oven.
Yup. I just found what heaven looks like.
A flash of blond hair catches my attention out of the corner of my eye, and I tilt my gaze to find the man I’m here for. Not wanting to be the creeper who lurks in the doorway, I rap my knuckles on the wooden door twice before swinging it open.
“What the fuck?” a surprised voice grunts, and I know it’s him immediately. He turns to gape at me, hand to his chest in surprise as his gaze rakes over me from head to toe.
He’s hotter than in his picture. It didn't do him justice, I can admit that. With his blond hair swept back off his face, his piercing blue eyes shimmering in the light, and his lean swimmer’s frame, he’s definitely alluring, but now isn’t the time for that.
“Who the fuck are you?” He folds his flour-covered hands over his chest as he glares me down, but before I can respond, he continues, “Elsie, who the hell are you inviting in here at this time of the morning? I almost had a damn heart attack!” he hollers, and a moment later a woman steps into the kitchen from the opposite direction, drying her hands off on a towel as she searches for me.
I don’t miss the way her shoulders sag in relief when she sees me, her face lighting up in a smile before it tightens and she turns her attention to the guy who is looking between the two of us with suspicion clear in his eyes.
Ah, so she still hasn’t told him. I’m going to give them a moment before I wade in.
Elsie clears her throat, tucking her auburn hair behind her ear as she looks at her friend. “Actually, he’s here for you,” she murmurs nervously, and I watch as his eyebrows rise so high that they almost touch his hairline.
“Elsie, I’m going through a rough time. I don’t need some hot-as-fuck escort or stripper or whatever this guy is, to make me feel better,” he blurts, cheeks flushing red as he points at me.
Looking down the length of myself, I try to figure out if that’s the vibe I’m giving off, but I’m dressed head to toe in black. Black pants, black shirt, black blazer, black shoes. It’s the standard attire for Carter’s. Maybe I should have gone with the black joggers and a hoodie. More casual. But those are packed in the suitcase in the trunk of the SUV.
Nice to know he thinks I’m hot though. A compliment or two will definitely help with my current cranky mood.
“Oh my gosh, that’s not… I didn’t… oh my, I—”
“The hot part was right, but unfortunately I’m not an escort or stripper. Just a regular security expert,” I interrupt with a shrug, putting the poor woman out of her misery as she tries to explain who I am to her friend.
Only, my answer doesn’t seem to soothe him, just makes his brows crinkle in confusion instead.
“A bodyguard?” His eyes flash between mine and Elsie’s a few times, his hands moving to his hips as he tries to understand what’s going on. “Why is there a bodyguard here?”
