AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Huh.
If I didn’t think this whole living together thing was going to be a bad ideabefore, I damn sure think it’s going to benow.
I flip on the light next to the intercom, illuminating the area as well as his stealthy actions and carefully slide my shoulder bag onto the ground beside me. From a slightly crouched position, Slater cautiously maneuvers around his luxury space, weapon extended forward, ready to fire first and ask questions later. Every door he passes is opened. Light turned on. Room inspected. And then reinspected before moving onto the next region. Intrigue over the amount of dedication he’s delivering despite knowing he doesn’t have to – after all I’m just his best friend not anactualhigh dollar client – is what leads to me bracing my back against the door and watching his actions more intensely. Admiration effortlessly amalgamates with awe each time he deems an area secure while desire threatens to demolish them both every time, he cuts a glance my direction to ensure I’m still here.
Still safe.
Still untouched by anyone that isn’t him.
And contrary to the very uncomfortable pissing contest I witnessed earlier, Idon’twant anyone else but him.
I haven’twantedanyone else since that day in the elevator he teased me for giving him “blue balls” rather than blueberries, a moment we still laugh about every time we come across the fruit whether we’re alone or together.
Too bad he doesn’t see that.
Or maybe can’t?
Unexpected vibrations begin in the pocket of the Pac-Man pajama bottoms I’m wearing redirecting my attention away from cowboy guardian down to the buzzing device I quickly retrieve.
Harv: Go ahead and send out those drafted emails whenever you’re ready.
Wonder if he means now?
Or was that meant to be like when I feel up to working again?
Or is he just looking for an excuse to text me?
To check on me?
To prove he isn’t the same guy he was when we dated forever ago?
Rather than dig at that ancient burial ground, I click over to the messages waiting to be sent to the department heads in which I’m requesting their records and begin emailing accordingly. Unlike Harv and Slater, I’m not necessarily convinced that the attack I suffered has anything to do with the shit I’m looking into. It could’ve been related to something else. Practically anything else. When you evaluate and analyze the amount of data that I do, about the types of people that I do, it’s impossiblenotto come across something no one wants found out.
But like is trying to kill me for discovering you have a mistress or gambling problem or an STD from your favorite stripper really the right call?
That seemsexcessiveto me.
“Clear,” my best friend announces upon his return to the kitchen. “The scene is secure.” He tucks his weapon back out of sight as he announces, “There haven’t been any security announcements on my phone, but once you’re asleep, I’ll review the footage closer in search of any abnormalities.”
“Abnormalities?”
“Odd or suspicious noises in the hall. Attempts to enter my apartment with the wrong keycard. Questionable delivery individuals. That sort of thing.”
The question fumbles off my tongue before I can even think of stopping it. “Is doing thatreallynecessary, Cowboy?”
Perhaps the nickname is what keeps his words my favorite shade, “It’sprotocol,Angel Cake.” He casually crosses his arms. “And that’s a word you better get used to me sayin’.”
“Gotta admit. Not my favorite P word.”
He arches a curious eyebrow. “You have a favorite P word?”
“Do you not?”
Humor doesn’t hesitate to paint itself in his expression. “Doubt it’s the same one you do.”
The perverted joke causes us both to laugh, successfully killing any lingering tension in the atmosphere.
Thankful for the shift, I do my best to keep things playful, “So when does protocol say I can get out of this mustard stained t-shirt and intorealclothes?”
