I can handle one girl. I don’t give a fuck how much of an attitude she has.
“I know,” Talon says, finishing the rest of his drink in one gulp. “I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise.”
He slams down his glass and leaves without another word.
My phone beeps with a message from him, the address.
Fuck.
Well, no time like the present.
I get on my bike and ride toward my new home for the next week.
TWO
I DO a double take when I see the house. No, the mansion. It’s fuckin’ huge. Two stories, all done in white and light gray—the house is modern as fuck, with big, timber double doors and a glass balcony on the top floor. I glance at the high security fence in approval and then enter the code that lets me in. I walk up to the door and knock, then glance down at my black boots and figure I’m probably going to have to take them off. I’m just sliding my feet out of them when the door opens and a large, bulky man stands there, a satchel over his shoulder.
“Good luck,” he murmurs, walking past me. I watch him exit the gate, then disappear down the street before I step inside, closing the door behind me.
Well, fuck.
The house is silent.
Not knowing what the fuck I’m meant to do, I walk through the house, checking out the layout from a security point of view, pinpointing any weaknesses. The place is OCD tidy, and fancy as shit, so much so that I don’t even want to touch anything. Straight back from the front door is a row of glass sliding doors, opening onto a wide patio with a shimmering turquoise pool in its center.
I stop in my tracks when I see her, sunning on a lounge chair. She’s lying on her stomach, a book in front of her face, which is half-covered by giant sunglasses. She’s in a black bikini, and although I try not to, my gaze roams over her bare back and the curve of her ass.
Fuck.
It’s a nice ass.
Big and round for her tiny frame.
Knowing I don’t need to be distracted by her or her ass, I walk outside, meaning strictly business.
“Shayla?” I say as I approach, not wanting to scare her.
“What?” she asks in a haughty tone, not bothering to even see who she is talking to.
“I’m Vinnie,” I say, hoping that she’d already been told I’d be arriving today. Last thing I want is to have to explain shit to her. “I’ll be the one guarding you for the next week.”
She closes her book and lifts her head, looking up at me. “Where did Mike go?”
“He already left,” I say, scanning the backyard. “Seemed pretty fuckin’ happy to do so too.”
“I’ll bet,” she murmurs, reopening her book and casting her gaze down, dismissing me.
“Which room should I use?” I ask, wanting to get settled.
“Upstairs, first room on the right.”
“Anyone else here?” I ask, trying not to stare at her ass and failing.
“Another guard comes at night,” she says, flicking the page. “You’re the only one here with me during the day.” She pauses, then says, “Although I don’t know what they expect you to do.”
I glance around. I have no idea what they expect me to do either.
Leaving her to her own devices, I check the upstairs and put my shit in my room, which is about three times the size of my room at the clubhouse. I’m glad it doesn’t have fancy floral shit or anything; it’s pretty much all white, with a giant bed that gives me ideas I don’t need to be having. I want to take a quick shower but instead I head back down, wanting to be debriefed properly about the situation, but all I know is what Talon told me.
From what I understand, Shayla is the daughter of some accountant who is Talon’s biological uncle. He had clients who required him to be creative in doing their books, which landed him in prison. Apparently there are rumors he’s working with the feds, so there are men after Shayla who plan to use her against her father. Not only do they want to threaten her life, they think she has the information her father needs. She’s his weakness. Talon thinks it’s the Mafia, since they were a huge client of his, but he isn’t really sure. No one has shown their faces. I have no idea why her father turned to Talon when he’d already hired guards, but here I am. I’m here to protect her, for a week, until they move her again.
This is the third house she’s been in in the last two months. Talon thinks moving is the solution to keep her from being found, and so far it’s seemed to work. On top of my being here as her personal bodyguard, her father’s hired men are also on call 24-7, and the house has camera surveillance. I personally think they’re going about this all wrong, but what the fuck do I know?
I’m just a biker who owes another biker a motherfuckin’ favor.
* * *
After a phone call with Talon, I take a shower and head back downstairs. Shayla has moved inside and is sitting on the couch, watching TV.
“What do you do for dinner?” I ask her as my stomach rumbles, making her jump in her seat.
She flicks her head around, her hair flying around her oval-shaped face. “Jesus, how do you not make any noise when you walk? You’re freaking massive.” She pauses, raking her gaze over me. “You’re one of those douchey guys who spends all his time in the gym, aren’t you?”
My lips tighten into a line. If I’m going to have to deal with this mouth for a week, I’m going to need something to keep me sane. Since women are out, and I can’t drink on the job, maybe I should take up smoking for the week.