Night Owl (The Complete Serial)

“I don’t want to have to escort you inside the vehicle.” His voice is smooth but gruff. I think he would make an excellent radio voice but decline to share that with him.

“Hmm. Is that your polite way of saying you’ll snatch me off the street corner?”

He smiles disarming me until he speaks again, “If I have to.”

I need space. I need time but I’m not likely to get it with these two.

“Can I walk with Ty back to the hotel?” It’s my last ditch effort which earns me a pointed look.

Yeah, looks I’m getting in the car.

40

James

Casey stomps into the hotel suite shouting with a destructive tornado force I have a hard time keeping up with her. “So did you destroy my letter for the job offer before or after sex?” She dumps her purse on the couch and stalks to the bar pouring herself a glass of seltzer before I can answer her.

“Well hello to you too darling.” I lean in to kiss her and she puts her hand up ignoring my greeting.

“Did you?” She demands not giving me an inch to explain.

“Fuck me.” I mumble to myself knowing I’m screwed.

“Mr. Austin.” Priest and Ty stand in the doo

rway having escorted her to the suite and watching our heated exchange.

“Thank you.” I wave them to go when Casey interrupts us.

“No really, I’ve been coerced to ride in the car and have these two so far up my ass, I think a string bikini would be easier to wear, they can stay.” My teeth grind, I look at the younger of the bodyguards; Ty whose face is beat red.

Ty mumbles something about a cat on a hot tin roof and Priest smiles. He gives me a salute grabbing his partner by the collar and leaving, shutting the door. I wonder if there’s an extra charge for angry girlfriends.

Casey is pissed.

That’s putting it mildly.

“Casey, I’m trying to keep you safe until we catch this crazy stalker.”

“Yeah, and I’m trying to stay employed with my dignity intact.”

“I’m sorry. Perhaps I was out of line.”

“So you admit it.”

“Yeah. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Where is it?”

“Uh, did I say anything?” I clear my throat. The contract is long gone and so is my manhood if she steps another foot closer to me.

Her eyes suggest she’s is waiting for an answer.

“I threw it out and dumped the pasta from Veruccio’s on it.”

“You owe me dinner. I looked for those leftovers before we left.” Her cheeks sport twin red dots in her anger.

“I’m sorry,” and I meant it. “How about I take you to the original Veruccio’s in New York City? Spend a weekend away from all of this.”