Carter Reed (Carter Reed 1)

That was normal, to indulge after a hard week at work and laugh with your friends over a glass of wine. This was all normal. I could be normal.

Carter wasn’t normal, but I couldn’t only have him in my life now.

“So what do you want to watch?” She indicated to the couches and soon we were both situated with blankets, the pizza on the table, and the second bottle of wine beside it. As I watched her gather everything, she flushed and murmured, “I get lazy once I’m on that couch. I don’t like to get up. Don’t judge me.”

“Never.” I couldn’t contain the smile that stretched from ear to ear. Theresa was exactly the friend that I needed.

It was after the second movie and the second bottle of wine when someone knocked on her door. I fell off the couch, my heart pounding, but Theresa scowled at the door. There was no fear, there wasn’t even surprise. She sighed as she stood from the couch, a little clumsier than normal. “Excuse me while I deal with this.”

With this?

I slunk down on the couch so they couldn’t see me, but I tried to peek over the edge. As she opened the door wider and I heard a masculine voice, my mouth fell open. Did Theresa have a boyfriend and not tell me? Well. I rolled my eyes. I hadn’t been forthcoming about my life at all. I couldn’t blame her for not sharing her personal life. Then I heard her snap, “Noah, you never told me!”

I gave up on peeking and fell to the floor beside the couch. That was my boss.

He growled from irritation and snapped back, “I did too. I told you about the family dinner last week.”

“Yeah.” Theresa held her own. “You told me, you never invited me. I thought you were just being a selfish prick, like normal.”

“AAH! You make me crazy.”

She snorted. “You do that fine just by yourself. I don’t do a thing to make you crazy.” Her voice softened. “Your mother must be so angry with me.”

“Don’t worry. She blames me, said I must’ve done something to piss you off.”

“Look, come in. I’ll call your mom and square everything away. I have company so I can’t come anyway.”

“You have company?” Interest and alarm spiked in his tone. “Who?”

“A friend.”

He snorted this time, “You don’t have any friends.”

She growled. “I’d slam this door in your face if I didn’t have to call your mother.”

“Ookay,” he mocked her.

“Whatever. Come in. Be nice to my friend.” She turned around and grabbed her phone from the table beside me. As she bent, she flashed me an apology, but she spoke to the big guy who had followed her inside, “You might want to be professional. She works for you.” And then she flounced out of the room, lifting the phone to her ear as she went.

I sat up. So this was Noah Tomlinson. I never met the guy but had seen photographs of him. There’d been a few from when he had been an MMA fighter and plenty from when he won the national championship. He wore jeans and a sweater that stretched across his chest in an impressive manner. The guy was huge, and as I caught his gaze, I knew he was intelligent. A cloud of suspicion and leering was in his gaze as he raked me up and down.

I expected the owner of The Richmond to stick his hand out, smooth back his hair, and become the sleazy smooth-talker most of the guys at the top level were. He didn’t. His frown deepened and he leaned against the island counter in the kitchen. He folded his arms, making his chest seem even bigger, and scowled at me. “Who are you?”

He didn’t know—but he must’ve. “I’m Emma Martins.”

His eyebrows shot up and everything vanished. Shock and something close to panic came over him. He glanced to where Theresa had gone and, when he heard she was still on the phone, dropped his voice to a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

“I—huh? Theresa and I are friends. We’re working together. You put us together.”

He growled from the back of his throat. “I didn’t expect this. I knew you’d work together, but,” he glanced where Theresa was again, “she doesn’t know your relationship with Carter, does she?”

My relationship with Carter? Did he? What relationship? “No, no one does.” Well, he did. I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean you didn’t expect this?”

He frowned again. “That was my mistake. I’m sorry, but you really need to go. You should cut your friendship with Theresa too. She hates Carter.”

My eyes threatened to pop out. She knew Carter?

He amended, “I mean, she hates the idea of him. She’s never met him, don’t worry, but she knows he’s a friend of mine and connected to the mob. She doesn’t approve of our friendship, and if she knew your relationship with him,” he whistled and shook his head, “it would not be pretty. Trust me.”