10. Helen #2
Brooke and I parted with a swift kiss on one another’s cheeks. She flounced off, laughing and hooting. The bodyguard she was not so subtly sleeping with emerged from the shadows of a line of cars to escort her home. She squeezed his ass before they turned the corner.
The club door banging shut dampened the thumping music within.
A few drunken couples and groups of giggling girls dotted the sidewalks.
I basked under the dim city lights and noise of tires rolling over the slick streets on my walk to the car around the corner.
Gizmo and Banjo might wait forever for me, but I wouldn’t force them to sit through a boring night.
As tired as I was, I wanted to get to bed, anyway.
Half-drunk and clomping gracelessly through dark streets, it took me a minute to register the cadence of steps matching mine. Heavier set like the thump of a man’s work boots on the concrete. If I paused, so did those steps. If I quickened my pace, so did that thump thump thump.
Awareness cut through the haze of alcohol. A flicker of adrenaline sparked in my veins, dampening the lovely buzz I’d worked up. Unease slithered through my gut, still leagues away from full panic. With years of training under my belt, one creep didn’t concern me.
Being followed after a night of dancing and drinks?
Rude, really.
A woman being followed late at night in any city wasn’t unheard of, unfortunately. But I found it hard to believe the current situation didn’t correlate with the masked attackers. Perhaps it was instinct, or a hunch, but red flags unfurled at the coincidence.
If my lurker had a tie to the masked attackers, I needed to stay calm and manage him.
I’d managed worse situations. With that in mind, I aimed for the block where my guards waited with the car.
Surely enough, those steady steps continued, tracking me through the increasingly solitary streets.
Quite obnoxious honestly, they weren’t being stealthy about it at all.
In fact…
I whipped into an alley. They followed. My breaths quickened, as did my steps while cutting through the street in what I hoped was a shortcut. My heels rapidly clicked on the moist concrete and the stink from a dumpster made me gag.
What I hoped would be an open street turned out to be a narrower alley hidden in the depths of towering buildings. With a dead end. The heavy steps halted behind me. Cornered.
My heart ratcheted into my throat. Damn, I didn’t want to fight in heels.
I whirled around, shifting into a ready stance. The corner of my eye caught a flicker of movement, a glint of auburn hair under a flickering back-alley light. Shadows swallowed the figure, and by the time I’d braced myself to fight off an attack, I found myself utterly alone.
A stiff wind whistled down the alley, sending goosebumps over my limbs. That busted light continued winking in and out. But I remained alone.
“You know Bingo and Gadget are right outside the door. They almost didn’t let me in.
” Drake’s deep voice in that chipper tone usually did things to me in the morning.
Things I wouldn’t admit to him, and hardly to myself.
I pointedly rolled my eyes at him as he sauntered into my office, lit up by the early morning light from the window.
But he’d noted the slight flinch in my shoulders when the door opened.
He set a coffee cup on my desk—hazelnut—the same as he’d started bringing each morning since he decided to loiter in my office day to day.
The fact he remembered my preferred flavor set my teeth on edge.
His face pinched suspiciously as he scooted the cup closer to my grouping of accumulated drinks (iced spring water and a strawberry matcha smoothie).
“Why are your guards so close?” He stuck his hands in the pockets of his azure blue suit. If I looked up, I knew the light tones in those usually dark eyes would make my heart do a little jig I desperately wanted to avoid. When I took too long to answer, he stated, “Something happened.”
I turned from my laptop and delicately folded my hands over my desk, smiling prettily at him. A muscle in his jaw feathered.
“No shit, Sherlock.” Then I returned my focus to my laptop.
Drake huffed. “Are you going to continue being difficult?”
“Karma’s a right bitch, isn’t she?” My fingers sailed over the keyboard, clacking away as I drafted an email. The screen snapped down, and I yanked out my fingers in time to avoid being pinched. “Hey!”
Drake’s large hand smoothed over the silver surface of my laptop, drawing my gaze to the signet ring on his pinky and those mouthwatering veins. God, I wanted to suck his middle finger into my mouth and get it nice and wet so he could slip it into my?—
“Come on, Monty. I’m here to help you. We’re supposed to be working together.” Drake leaned over the table and a whiff of his luxurious cologne, masculine notes of lavender and rosemary, invaded my senses. “Why don’t you be a good girl and tell me what’s happened?”