Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
“Interesting use of a head butt,” said Sam, sitting on the couch opposite me with a cup of coffee in one hand and his cell in the other. God knows how many times he’d watched the footage.
Adelaide had remained downstairs in the lobby keeping an eye on the paparazzi out by the front door.
“Best get this to our lawyer in case the idiot tries for excessive force,” he muttered, more to himself than me.
“Does that happen often?”
He gave me a small smile. “No, not often. And not when there’s so much clear footage of the incident. He clearly came at you with a knife. There’s no way a judge would fall for it.”
“I don’t want Ziggy getting into trouble because of me.” I cradled my bottle of beer in two hands, huddled in the corner of the couch. “He’s already been hurt.”
“Miss Cooper, you didn’t bring any of this on yourself. Ziggy did his job and did it well,” said Sam. “Once the threat was dealt with, he waited calmly for the police to arrive and take charge of the scene. Nothing more.”
I nodded.
“It’ll be fine.”
“Sure,” I said, but I didn’t really believe it.
No idea when I fell asleep exactly. I’d told Sam I’d be fine if he wanted to head home, but he’d stayed. Turned out he was into old black and white movies. Or maybe that was just his sneaky bodyguard trick to distract shocked clients with something safe and familiar. If so, it worked. Half way through Casablanca or so was about the last thing I remembered. Now there were voices, neither of which belonged to Bogart or Bergman.
“…injured, but also you’re off the clock. Sure you should be here?” asked Sam.
“I’m fine,” answered Ziggy.
“Not talking about your arm. I saw how you were looking at her last night and today.”
Nothing from Ziggy.
“Figured you’d be coming by. That’s why I waited around, to have a word with you.”
“Regarding what?” asked Ziggy.
“You know it never works out, getting involved with a client. You’ve seen that before. We both have.”
Oh, boy.
For a moment, no one said anything. Then Ziggy cleared his throat. “You should go. Martha will be wondering where you are.”
“She knows where I am. That’s the thing about relationships…making them work is complicated. Takes a lot of effort,” said Sam. “And if you’re not committed to putting in serious effort, don’t go there at all. Especially for someone you’ve known for what…a couple of days? Easy enough for a guy like you to find some company for the night without doing potential damage to my business and your reputation.”
Ziggy sighed.
“She seems like a good woman.”
“She is and I hear what you’re saying, all right?”
“Right then,” said Sam. “Good work today.”
The front door clicked quietly closed.
Footsteps moved toward me, the couch shifting slightly with his weight as he sat. “You should be in bed.” His voice was quiet, contemplative. “You’re not going to get a decent sleep on the couch.”
I slowly opened my eyes and stretched. “Hey. How’d you do at the hospital?”
“Fine. Why aren’t you in bed instead of crashing out here?”
“You’re not the boss of me.” I sat up, pushing my hair out of my face. Odds were I looked like roadkill, but whatever. “Show me your arm.”
He angled his body slightly, displaying the white bandage peeking out from beneath the edge of his black tee and going down almost to his elbow. The suit and so on were gone. Guess his clothes had been stained with blood. Now he wore jeans and sneakers. A much more relaxed look though every bit as hot as the suits. “Eighteen stitches. Not much to see.”
“That’s a lot of stitches.”
“And I didn’t even cry once.”
“You’re such a tough guy.”
“That’s why you pay me.” He rose to his feet, keeping his gaze averted. “Okay, Miss Cooper. You’ve seen my owie. Time for you to get to bed and for me to go home.”
“Where is home, you never said?”
And apparently he wasn’t going to say now, either. Right. Privacy and all that. Professionalism. It was important. I didn’t need personal details about this man no matter how much I might like to have them. Today, the lines had gotten a little blurred. But it was time to put them firmly back in place. Boundaries mattered.
I got to my feet, noting how much smaller I seemed standing next to his bulk. Weird. Yet my heart felt about a billion times bigger and heavier than normal. Maybe I was coming down with the flu. It was as good an excuse as any. A love sickness of some sort seemed the most likely. Stupid me. “Ziggy, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry you got hurt today because of me. And thank you for stopping him. I’d probably be deceased right now if you hadn’t been there.”