Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” he said, but he didn’t press it.
Not that it would have mattered. I’d never admit that I was a little anxious about having him in my space.
I mean, I wasn’t ashamed of my apartment. It was what I could afford. And it… was mostly decent. Sure, the water never really got hot and the heat was either set to glacial or straight up hell. But there were no bugs or black mold hiding anywhere.
There was just… something intimate about having him there.
And I didn’t want my mind to start getting ideas about things that were never going to happen.
“Wait,” he demanded as we parked, and I immediately went to grab my door handle.
He reached past me, going into the glovebox, and producing a gun.
My eyes widened as I watched him load it, then tuck it into his waistband before climbing out, and coming around to my side, then opening the door for me.
“Here,” he demanded, placing me so that I was in front of him, but turned slightly to the side, his body acting as a shield as we walked toward the apartment building.
It didn’t escape me that his other hand hovered over his gun the whole way. Even in the elevator and down the hall to my apartment.
“Behind my back,” he demanded after I unlocked the door. “Hands on my shirt,” he added, prompting me to grab it as a weird little thrill moved through me.
Desire.
I was turned on by how prepared he was to protect me. And, yeah, a little bit about how bossy he was.
We walked through my white-walled apartment, and Junior ripped open the closet and bathroom doors, moved the shower curtain, checked any spot that someone could be located.
“Alright,” he said, turning toward me, but he didn’t put his gun away. “Start packing your shit,” he said, then walked over toward the window in my bedroom, and yanked the blinds closed. “Let’s be quick about it, though.”
“Okay,” I agreed, rushing into motion.
I had one piece of luggage, and I blindly grabbed items from my closet and dresser, shoving them in.
I did have several reusable bags, though, so I grabbed those, stuffing in more panties and bras, my stuff from the shower, and anything I might want to use beauty-wise.
“Anything else?” Junior asked as he slung my duffle bag over his shoulder, and reached for the other bags, leaving nothing for me to carry.
“Ah… I guess I’ll bring a few books,” I said as we walked into the living room. I grabbed them off their spot on my coffee table, and shoved them into a different bag.
“What about your gaming shit?” he asked, waving toward the TV. “You promised Barry,” he added. “And if you renege on it, his ass is gonna be at my door again.”
“Oh, okay, sure,” I agreed, rushing over to unplug things and shove the console, controllers, and headphones into my bag. Then my laptop for good measure. “What?” I asked as I found him eyeing the laptop.
“Nothing. Alright. We good?” he asked.
“Yeah. I think I grabbed ninety percent of everything I own,” I added, smirking.
“Good,” he said, and I didn’t know if he meant that it was good that I was done, or that I was bringing all my shit to his place.
I went ahead and made myself believe it was the former. Because I wanted it to be the latter too much.
“Let’s go. Same way out as in,” he said, waiting for me to position myself the same way, then moving out into the hallway, the elevator, then outside.
There was a tension about Junior as we made our way across the open parking lot, and I don’t think it was until then that I realized how nervous he was about the threat of the cartel.
“Get in,” he demanded as he yanked open my door.
I didn’t waste any time.
I got in and he quickly tossed my stuff into the backseat before climbing in beside me.
“Hey, Junior?” I asked as he started driving, going way out of town like he had the last time, wanting to make sure we weren’t being followed.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t you have to worry about your plates?” I asked. “Like, being traced home.”
“It’s cute you think these are my real plates,” he said, shooting me a smirk. “I was out of town on a job. Had fake plates on for that. Never got a chance to change them. They can’t trace me anywhere through them. The car they belong to is in a junkyard somewhere.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Doll, I know what I’m doing here,” he said, reaching over to grab my thigh. A little higher than was appropriate. “You don’t gotta be so tensed up.”
“I trust you,” I assured him. “But you were the tense one back there.”
“The logistics of your apartment building suck. Lots of other high buildings around. I’m not saying I believe the crew who is fucking with you are any world-class snipers or shit like that. But I don’t want to take chances either.”