Chapter Two #2
She’s a master thief, a dangerous rival who we run into from time to time.
Although not quite as often any more now that our jobs don’t involve stealing.
Well, not for the bad guys anyway. A-Squared has gone legit.
We were edging that way for a bit, but when Addie recently became engaged to Cole Vaughn, a former police detective, it sped that process along pretty quickly.
Cole left the force and joined our team not too long ago.
He’s a great asset. And since Knox and Linc each up and married, their wives prefer they remain on the straight and narrow and out of a jail cell.
Can’t say I blame them. Local PD’s cots are definitely not up to the sleep standards I prefer.
Luckily, the company’s turn hasn’t affected business because we’re busy as hell. Maybe more so now than ever before.
And I’m definitely not complaining. Throwing myself into work gives me something to focus on, which I like. If I have too much free time on my hands, that’s when I start to question my life choices. It’s also when I begin to feel like maybe something’s missing.
Despite what I said to Linc, I’d be lying if I said I’m one-hundred percent happy.
Do I enjoy my life? Yes, no doubt about it.
I can come and go as I please, and I don’t have to answer to anyone.
I control the TV remote, eat and drink whatever and whenever I want, and there’s no one to nag me when I leave my shit laying around.
There’s also no one to snuggle up with during the middle of the night.
No one to share inside jokes with and laugh until we can’t breathe.
No one waiting for me when I get home with my takeout.
Just a dark, empty house and a big, cold bed.
Sure, my king size bed may have the most expensive silk sheets money can buy, but it’s a little sad slipping into them night after night by myself.
I sigh, rinsing the shampoo out of my hair.
I need to get laid. That’s all there is to it.
I’ve been working too hard and ignoring my poor, neglected dick.
Maybe instead of grabbing carryout and heading home alone—again—I should go down to the nearest bar and pick up a woman.
Indulge in an evening of no-strings pleasure with a warm, willing companion.
Or not.
Damn, that thought turned sour fast. Women always end up wanting more from me the moment they sniff out I have money.
I know it’s all my fault, too. Driving a Lamborghini Aventador doesn’t exactly convey that I have a normal nine to five job.
And, sure, some of my money has come from ill-gotten means, but I was loaded long before joining A-Squared.
When your family owns diamond mines and business is good, your bank account booms.
But it doesn’t mean that’s how I want people to see me. I’m more than dollar signs and the balance on my ATM slip. And those are certainly not the reasons I want a woman attracted to me.
You don’t want a woman, I remind myself. It’s best to just have fun and keep things light. Still though…
An annoying part of my brain keeps growing louder, wondering what it would be like to fall in love. I’ve never been in love. Not even close. And I’ve certainly never spoken the words to anyone. The women in my life move in and out. It’s like a constantly revolving door.
But my friends seem so damn happy. Am I missing out?
I’m not ready to admit I want or need a woman to achieve their level of happiness.
But I’ve been all over the world, done so many things, and here I am, still craving something more.
I’ve met the most beautiful women. None of them have managed to hold my attention for longer than a night or two.
I can’t help but wonder—why is that? Maybe I’m the problem.
The image of myself all alone in a nursing facility, old and depressed, stirs up a sliver of fear.
Maybe this is why people settle. But that’s not something I can do.
There has to be a woman out there who will challenge me.
Call me out on my shit. Make me want her for longer than a round of fucking.
Up until now, every woman I’ve known or dated has bent over backwards to please me.
The truth is, I want a partner who’s going to stand by my side and give me a run for my money.
I want someone fierce and passionate. A lady who isn’t afraid to speak her mind and boss me around a little. Especially in the bedroom.
My dick gives an enthusiastic twitch. Yeah, that’s what I want.
So how do I find her?
I have no fucking idea.
After one final rinse, I’m spinning the water off when the shower curtain suddenly whips open. A cold draft of air makes my skin prickle, and I turn around with a frown, on the verge of muttering a fuck-off to whatever assclown doesn’t understand how a private shower stall works.
But the words die on my lips.
A gorgeous woman wearing a hoodie stands there. Her steel-gray gaze dips, following a water droplet as it slides down my chest, abs, and then disappears in the trail of dark hair leading to my cock. I can’t help but smirk. This isn’t a peep show, but what the hell did she expect?
Her eyes snap up from my crotch, and the potent scent of jasmine hits me.
Holy shit. It can’t be. Bella fucking Diamond?
Before I can say anything, she lifts a stun gun, angling it toward the family jewels. Oh, fuck no. I quickly cover my dick with both hands and narrow my eyes at her.
“Hello, Ryder,” she murmurs, an appreciative glimmer in her silver eyes as she lifts a pair of cuffs in her opposite hand. “I’m going to need you to put these on. Now.”
Looks like I won’t be getting that carryout after all. Because shit just got interesting.