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)
He could fill in the picture, but Smithie wasn’t sure he was totally following.
“Secret Servicing this shit?”
“Secret Service passes off. They do shifts. There will be no pass off. Mo’s hers for as long as it takes to find this guy.”
Now Smithie wasn’t sure he was liking what he was following.
“Is that smart?”
“I’m sure I can make a passable attempt at finding a decent stripper. Though I couldn’t pick a headliner if she tapped me on the shoulder. So how ’bout you let me make the calls I gotta make ’cause you assume I know what I’m doin’ like I would do for you if my business got caught up in yours. Something that’s happening right now. But I’ll let you do yours if you let me do mine.”
“Gotcha,” Smithie murmured.
“Your staff, on heightened alert. The dancers. The bouncers. The bartenders and the waitresses. I’ll brief them, tell them what they’re lookin’ for, this being after we interview them to ascertain if they’ve already clocked someone of interest. You tell McAlister. She needs to know and make smart choices. I’ll coach her on that.”
Smithie flicked his gaze to Mo and back to Hawk. “Won’t Mo coach her on that?”
“Mo’s not a communicator.”
This was not a surprise.
Hawk spoke on.
“Call her. Tell her she’s got Mo. Tell her he’s not on her house, he’s gonna be in her house. Tell her she’s gotta come in early. Tell her Mo’ll be bringin’ her in early. I’ll be here when she gets here, and you and me’ll share. I’ll tell her what she needs to know. And we’ll go from there.”
Smithie nodded.
Without another word, both men turned as one to walk out the door.
Smithie watched them go.
After Mo disappeared out the door, Hawk stopped there and turned back.
“Secret Service is also trained to put themselves in the path of the bullet,” Hawk said.
Shit.
“Right,” Smithie whispered.
“For that man on the mark, it isn’t about getting the target to safety. It’s about taking the bullet for his mark. You with me?” Hawk asked.
That Mo guy was a leviathan, but he wasn’t bulletproof.
Goddamned shit.
“I’m with you,” Smithie confirmed, because he had no choice.
Hawk studied him before he noted, “You haven’t asked me how much this is going to cost.”
“That’s because I don’t care,” Smithie told him.
They held eyes.
Hawk broke it by lifting his chin and exiting the room.
He shut the door behind him.
Slowly, Smithie sat in his chair.
He’d had trouble in the club from some assholes not long ago.
At the time, it had nearly broken him. He’d thought it had come in the form of a man’s worst nightmare about what could happen to women he held in his heart.
He’d been wrong.
CHAPTER 2
AS OFTEN AS I COULD
Lottie
When the doorbell rang, I was already mildly freaking out.
When I looked through the peephole and saw nothing but a black compression shirt covering a muscled chest, I got even more freaked out.
I was barefoot. My peephole was nearly at eye level. Regardless, it magnified the area outside it.
And still, all I saw was chest.
Right…
How big was this guy?
“Who is it?” I shouted through the door.
“Mo!” was grunted back.
Okay, that was the name I was given.
“Squat down, I can’t see your face!” I yelled, still looking through the peephole.
The chest moved, and a thick, ropy throat came into view before I got a face.
Whoa.
Smithie described my new bodyguard as “motherfucking huge, bald and ugly.”
He got two things right.
The last was a matter of opinion. That fixed stare from silver eyes under a protruding brow and over a large nose that was framed by cut cheekbones with cavernous cheeks and a jaw so perfectly angled, it could be used in geometry class could be considered too brutish for some.
But not me.
This was going to be a problem.
“I’m opening up!” I bellowed, still staring at his face.
That face disappeared, and I got his throat and chest again as he straightened.
Yes, this was going to be a problem.
I unlocked and opened my door.
Then I immediately, and automatically, took a step back.
All right.
Whoa.
I could get a hint from the chest and what it might be attached to with what I’d seen of that throat, but this guy had to be six five, maybe taller.
And his height was only a part of why Smithie described him the way he did.
He wasn’t “motherfucking huge.”
He was motherfucking huge.
I was average height.
But slender.
My sister had ass.
My job was physical. It wasn’t just the nightly dancing. It was the practice and constantly choreographing and adding new routines. I could probably eat a boatload, but I didn’t because I was too busy to eat, and when I did, I’d learned long ago what all the experts said was what an expert would know from studying it. Eating good food gave me more energy, made me sleep better and put me in a better mood (most of the time).