ers and loose papers with complicated instructions and notes written all over. The desk’s chair was equally covered in assorted crap, which Preston deftly moved onto the desk. A few swipes with his hand to remove the last vestiges of crumbs and he pushed the chair toward Zeke. “Take a seat.”

“Thank you, sir.” Zeke followed the command and sat. It felt unnatural, reporting to his superior without standing.

“So, gun or girl?”

“Woman.”

Preston grinned. “Even better. How’d she coax you to resign?”

“Actually, I intended to resign before I met her.”

“You’ve been thinking that for over a year, Irish. Why’s it so important to do it now?”

Shit, where did he start? “She’s in trouble.”

The chair creaked when Preston leaned closer, resting his elbows on his knees, face unusually serious. “How?”

“Her name’s Vivian Bennett. She owns Divine Twins Bakery.”

“Great place. Love the food. How serious are we talking?” Preston asked, undeterred from his original question.

“Stalker’s been hunting her for a few months. He’s devolving and starting to take risks. Leaving letters. Slashing her tires. He stopped by her apartment the other night and left a present. The police already know about it all and are working with her, but–”

“Their hands are tied until it gets really shitty,” Preston finished. “Damn, Irish.”

“I don’t know how much Mr. Mak told you about me, but I can keep her safe,” Zeke said, looking down at his boots and feeling that familiar numbing cold taking root inside. “I need to keep her safe.”

“He told me you had some extreme training,” Preston said slowly. “And I’ve seen you under pressure. I’m glad she’s got you around. You think it’s going to require some of that training you got?”

“I hope not.” He meant it wholly.

“You were a soldier?”

“POW in Syria.”

“Your scars...”

“Yessir.” He ignored Preston’s grimace and muttered apology. “I’m good at what I do, sir.”

“But–?”

The truth slipped out before he could organize his thoughts. “But I’m tired. I’m tired of violence and keeping honest people safe from perverts who want to abuse this place and I’m fucking exhausted every night I go home from work. If I can’t feel the weight of my guns, I freak out. I’m stateside and don’t feel safe unless they’re right there, ready to draw at any moment.” He took a deep breath and looked up, meeting his boss’s eyes full-on. “I need to protect Viv and I need to do right by Mr. Mak. But I can’t do both and I’m asking for your help.”

There. The world hadn’t fallen apart by admitting it. Preston sat back in his chair, lips pursed, silent. Zeke waited. He’d had ample opportunity to learn the value of patience. Eventually, Preston turned from him and punched a button on the desk phone. He had turned it to speaker when the other line was picked up.

“Mak.”

“Sir, it’s Preston Stevens. Zeke Harding’s sitting here in my office and I think you need to hear what he told me.”

“Go on.” The clipped words didn’t mean Mr. Mak was irritated by the interruption, just that he was busy. Well, hopefully that’s what it meant.

Zeke repeated his story to the phone. Once it was over, he waited, nervously tapping his fingers against his leg. He was about to apologize for wasting his boss’s time when Mr. Mak spoke.

“I appreciate your work, Harding. You’re good at your job.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I know you feel like you owe me, but I’d say years of dedicated service have already done that. Stevens, do we need to hire a replacement?”

Tags: M.A. Grant Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net