8
Laura
After my reunion with Beverly, I introduced myself to D. For some reason, I liked him, and there weren’t many men I liked right away. He was outgoing and friendly and understood my personality enough not to get offended by some of the off-handed shit that flew from my mouth.
“So, where did Richie Rich go? We’re not the kind of company he likes to keep or something?”
“No, he’s making preparations. We have some business to attend to that may help us figure out how to stop this group. They will keep after you ladies now that you’re on their radar,” D advised, and I could tell he’d chosen his words with care.
Before I requested he elaborate, Dax exited the thick, dark-wood door that led to another part of the large suite. My excitement over reuniting with Beverly had prevented me from checking out the place that clearly cost more per night than I made in a year.
Victorian-style furnishings, two crystal chandeliers over the over-sized couch, a loveseat, and chairs, a shiny grand piano in one corner, human-sized porcelain statues sat prominently in their spaces.
The floor was so glossy and clean you could check your makeup in it, the ceiling so high your voice called back to you. The shine sparkling off the blue waters from the infinity pool on the balcony were enough to blind me.
The apartment Beverly and I shared could sit inside the open living-dining area three times. This wasn’t a suite. It was a house. This was one of those places if I broke something inside it, they may as well send me to jail because they’d never be able to collect. White, dark brown, and gray made up the color scheme and although the colors together should have been dull, in this place they popped with life.
Dax drew the door closed behind him, his stance almost protective. My gaze swiveled past him and landed on the door he’d exited, letting him know I wanted to know what he’d been up to.
“What’s up, Richie Rich?” I questioned as I stepped into his path, knowing he didn’t like the nickname I’d chosen for him. Beverly and D went silent in the background.
“My name’s Dax. And what I’m up to is nothing you need to be concerned about,” he grumbled, his stiff tone matching his rigid posture.
My forehead wrinkled, and I folded my arms across my chest, staring him down like I wasn’t the one whose height didn’t go past his shoulder.
The amount of arrogance he projected was off the charts. It drifted off him like an oversaturation of testosterone, making me burp in my throat to keep from gagging. He wasn’t a bad-looking man as far as men went. Once a year, I was kind enough to give one of them credit, and this was my annual nicety.
Dax owned the whole tall, dark, and gray-eyed swagger market. His eyes weren’t a dull gray. They were steely like he had liquid silver running through them. Manscaped to perfection, his dark hair was cut low and streaked with natural light-brown highlights. His chin was dusted with a day or two of scruff, but the rest of his face was baby-bottom smooth, likely from a facial. His straight teeth were so bright he could walk right into a toothpaste commercial.
We’d been standing, staring each other down as I took my time drafting a reply that I knew he didn’t want to hear.
“Like hell, I don’t need to be concerned. I’m one of the hunted. More than that, I don’t want to sit around with my fingers up my ass while strangers risk their lives to protect mine. No offense D,” I tossed over my shoulder. “I can be useful. I can help. I’m not some weak broad who intends to let someone else fight my battles.”
Beverly closed her eyes and lifted her head to the ceiling. Without hearing a word, I knew she was praying I wouldn’t mess up the help we’d been gifted. She also knew I’d test these men, aiming to prove the truthfulness of their willingness to help us. I didn’t know them and therefore, I wasn’t quick to relinquish my trust.
In the corner of my eye, I spotted a wide grin on D’s face. The deep frown that creased Dax’s face displayed every trace of his irritation with me. What was his problem? If he had a problem with strong women, he needed to get over it or send me on my way now. If he knew Megan, he should have already known we weren’t the meek type.
His facial expression was unreadable, but the coiled tension emanating from his body cut like a harsh icy wind.
“I’ll be back, D,” he announced, ignoring me and my comments altogether before he stepped around me, brushing my shoulder. When he eased the front door closed behind him, I glanced at D.
“What’s his deal?”
“He’s probably never had a woman confront or talk to him that way. As you can tell by this suite, he comes from privilege and the women in his circle are very demure, prim, pampered, and submissive,” he informed as he attempted to stifle a grin.
“Humph,” I grunted and squinted when I picked up a hint of warning in D’s expression.
“What? You want to tell me something, but you’re not sure you should?” I flashed him a hopeful expression. “Come on, D, spill it,” I urged with more pleading in my tone, hoping my Puss-In-Boots eyes would work in my favor like they sometimes did. “If you haven’t noticed, Bev and I are in the thick of this shit. We can handle more truth than you think we can,” I attempted to persuade him to talk.
His playful, emerald eyes went up in thought as he contemplated revealing more.
“He’s one of the highest paid assassins in the country. He only takes high-profile targets. Much higher than these DG6 pricks hunting you.”
I’m sure his words were meant to scare me into leaving Dax alone, but all he’d done was piqued my interest.
“I like you, D, and that’s saying a lot because I don’t like your species. You’re a straight shooter, and I respect that about you,” I declared, pointing, and smiling in his direction.
At those words, I picked up what must have been his keycard and faced the front door.