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Now, I needed to play nice.
This man could be the difference between my daughter surviving or not.
I was fixing dinner when the doorbell rang.
Before opening it, I checked the cameras before drying my hands and heading for the door. When I opened it, I paused to stare at the woman standing by Hank’s side.
Though I invited them in, I couldn’t help the way my body felt because of her. She had dark skin, bright brown eyes and a body that had curves deep enough to drown a man if he wasn’t careful.
The woman stood about five four-ish and was dressed simple enough in all black.
Her hair was hidden beneath a black headwrap, which I’d never seen before, but it matched her round face with a button nose and plump lips.
Clearing my throat, I closed the door and led them into my office. I excused myself to ensure Kennedy was set up with a book, apple slices and a movie, before I went back to speak with them.
“Daniel, meet Abeke Bolande.” Hank introduced. “Abeke, meet Daniel Archer.”
“Kokou.” She shook my hand.
“It’s lovely to meet you.” I told her. “Please, have a seat. Can I offer you guys a drink or something?”
Hank declined—so did she.
“Let’s start with little bit about my background.” Abeke spoke, her voice accented. “That’s what people usually start with when they see the tits and ass. I spent ten years in the Army, five years with Montana SWAT. Any questions?”
I blinked.
“Good—now, let’s begin.” Abeke sat and crossed her legs.
We talked about what she would be doing, and in the end, she nodded and leaned over to rest a hand on one of Hank’s massive thighs. The two had a wordless conversation before she returned her gaze to me.
“We’re in.” Kokou told me. “You talk to him about payment. Right now, I’d like to meet your daughter.”
Leaving them in the room, I got Kennedy and brought her back to the room. Kokou went down on her haunches and met my daughter’s eyes.
“Hi.” Kokou greeted her. “My name is Abeke. What’s your name?”
“Kennedy.” My girl replied. “My dad calls me Kenny.”
“Can I call you Kenny?” Kokou asked.
“Sure.”
“Well, Kenny, this man is a friend of mine. His name is Hank, but you can call him Montana. I call him Cowboy because he is a cowboy.”
Kennedy looked up at Hank and giggled.
I watched as the soldier went down beside Kokou and shook hands with my daughter.
“It’s nice to meet you, Kennedy.” Hank told her.
“Hi.” Kennedy giggled again.
Oh boy.
My six-year-old had a crush on the cowboy.
Of course.
