When He's Dirty (Walker Security - Adrian's Trilogy 1)

He snatches it from my hand and sets them out of my reach. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know if I should be pleased or irritated that Blake works this fucking fast.”

“You know what,” he says, sliding the cookies back in my direction, “eat up. You need something to shut you up, Rafael.”

I ignore the cookies and open the fridge, grabbing two beers and handing him one. “I did what I had to do.”

“You think she’ll see it that way?”

“Not a chance in hell,” I say, and not because of the name game I’m playing. Because I was a devil, and I lived like one. Because while there are laws to protect me, I pushed those limits, and I know it. I need immunity to even take the stand and she’s going to have to give it to me. Which means Pri’s going to have to know my sins to forgive them.Chapter NinePRI

I take a cold shower after Rafael leaves, a cliché meant for men, of course, but I’m desperate to think about my work, not the hot man I wanted to kiss me, the man who didn’t kiss me. Maybe he didn’t want to kiss me or maybe he really wants my trust. Either way, by the time I’m in boxers and a tank, microwaving a Lean Cuisine, I’ve decided I want to trust him, but I can’t let my guard down. I’ve read too many stories about Waters’ devious ways.

I’ve just settled onto my bed with my gun next to me, my dinner, a glass of wine, and my work sprawled out around me when my mother calls. “Hi, Mom. When’s your flight?”

“We’re not going. Your father has a big case that just fell in his lap and I’m not leaving him here alone.”

I set my food aside and sit up, legs back on the floor. “Mom, it’s dangerous. This case is dangerous.”

“We can’t run every time you have a dangerous case. And I don’t have time for a debate right now. We’re at Eddie V’s, about to have dinner with one of the partners and he just walked in.”

“You at least need to hire security,” I say, but it’s too late. She hung up.

Frustrated, I consider calling my father in the morning, or even going to see him, but where will that get me? Nowhere besides putting more attention on my parents if I’m being watched. I rotate back into my comfy spot, eat my meal and when I’m done, I walk into the bathroom, dig in my purse, and pull out the napkin Rafael gave me. I carry it back to bed with me, lay it down next to my gun, and study the neat, controlled, masculine script. Control is a good word. I believe he’s a man of great control. I have skills, he’d said. I’m curious about those skills, on a personal and professional level. Could I trust private security to protect the high-profile critical witnesses more than law enforcement? No, I think and settle back against the headboard, sipping my wine before googling “Walker Security,” and what I find is impressive. Both reluctantly and with hope, as contradictory as those things sound, my “no” becomes a “maybe.” Maybe, just maybe, Rafael is the answer to my problems.

I consider calling Blake Walker now, but it’s later in New York than here. I need to sleep on this idea, and Lord help me, I’ll have to convince Ed to pay for their services. That’s not a task to attempt without doing my homework first. I add Blake’s number to my phonebook in my cellphone and then do the same with Rafael’s. I almost, so very almost, text him a thank you for walking me home.

But that’s a bad idea. It’s an invitation for another kiss I might crave, but do not dare allow myself, especially if we’re about to be professionally attached. I clear my work to the empty side of the bed, the side that’s always empty and needs to stay that way, turn out the light, and lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to every tiny sound. I need a dog, a big dog that knows how to cuddle me and kill an intruder. Of course, I’m never home, so that can’t work. I settle my phone on my chest and force my eyes shut.

***

ADRIAN

It’s on the north side of midnight and I’m at the dining room table Lucifer has set-up with the security feed, eating pizza with him and Adam, when Savage walks in, grabbing a seat next to me. “Deleon’s a slippery bastard.” He snatches up a slice of pizza. “I hate slippery bastards. Every lead Blake gave me came up dry.”

“He’s hunting,” I say, tossing away the crust to my last slice, suddenly losing my appetite, “and he’s a hell of a good hunter.”