“Can take care of himself. He’s got Zeke and Don there. It’s you and me, got it?”
“Got it.”
“You don’t talk to anyone without an okay from me or Kent, got it?”
“Yes.”
“And you stick to my left side. Not in front, not behind unless I tell you. Okay?”
“You’re making me really nervous.”
“Good. Nervous will mean you do as I say. Nervous is good. I’m going to get out and come around for you. Number one rule?”
“I do what you say.”
“And?”
“I stick close to you.”
“Right. Wait there.” He climbed out and moved cautiously around to her door. He opened it and leaned across her to undo her seatbelt which she had forgotten to do.
“Climb down,” he told her.
She slid down, nearly tripping over her big feet and landing in a heap at his feet. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even seem to notice, which she was grateful for. He moved and she did her best to move with him. She didn’t focus on anything except getting to Kent. When they grew close, Bain stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
She wasn’t sure what to do. No one was talking. So, she waved at Gray. He gave her an incredulous look and she felt slightly embarrassed.
What to do now? Bain said not to talk. But that was damn hard when she was so nervous. She fidgeted, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
Finally, Kent spoke. “As you can see, she’s here. Now, I want your agreement that she’s off-limits. Don’t care what beef you have with her brother; she doesn’t come into it.”
“I’m keeping the money I already have.”
“Fine,” Kent growled.
“I want to speak to her for a moment.”
She opened her mouth to reply, she was right here after all, but Bain made a low, warning noise. Right, she was supposed to stay quiet unless given permission. Sheesh. This all seemed silly to her. How many times had she met safely with Mr. Markovich and Gray?
“Fine,” Kent said. He then half-turned to her. But his expression didn’t change from badass. She had to admit, it was a turn-on.
“Abigail, how are you?”
“Fine, Mr. Markovich, and you? Hey, Gray.”
Gray sighed.
“Don’t mind Gray, he’s on bodyguard duty,” Mr. Markovich said. “Guards aren’t supposed to speak.”
“Oh right.”
“Abby, are you well?”
“Me?” She looked at him, startled. “Why wouldn’t I be fine?”
Mr. Markovich was an attractive man. Older, probably in his late forties, he always dressed well and smelled nice. But he wasn’t a good guy. She knew that. However, he’d always treated her fairly.
“You’re with this man of your own free will?” he asked.