“Mr. Emerson will seeyou now,” his secretary said, raking her eyes over my body with her lips set in a firm line.
As I walked through the doors of his office, I knew exactly what I needed to do.
Chapter Thirty-Four
A Little Race for Lunch
Morgan
“Who is he again?” I asked Thomas, glancing down at my clock.
Race and I were meeting for a late lunch today. It was her first day back at work. She promised that she’d be here at two and I shouldn’t keep her waiting.
“He’s one of Joey’s friends from the Neon Cowboy. His name is Frisco.”
“Joe vouches for him,” James said, raising an eyebrow as he rested his hands behind his head.
Thomas nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Well, you two are the bosses, and if Joe vouches for him, then I’m sure he’s a good guy,” I said, knowing that Joe didn’t like many people.
The door opened and Angel was standing there with a man behind her. “Thomas, Frisco is here.” She glanced over her shoulder and stepped aside.
“Frisco,” Thomas said, walking around his desk to greet the newcomer.
“Thomas,” he replied, shaking his hand.
I gave him a quick appraisal.
He had a muscular build but a lean frame. He stood pin straight, reminding me of a military man. His eyes never left one of ours, showing he was honest.
“It’s great to have you here.” Thomas looked over at James. “That’s James, and over there,” he said, looking toward me, “is my cousin, Morgan. Guys, this is Frisco.”
“Frank is my real name, but I go by Frisco,” he said, giving us each a quick nod.
“Come on in, Frisco. We have a lot to discuss,” James said.
“Thank you,” Thomas said to Angel.
She waved and closed the door, leaving the four of us to speak.
“What’s with the name Frisco?” James asked as Frisco sat down. “Was your mom aGeneral Hospitalfan?”
“I’m from San Fran. The guys at the bar like to use nicknames.” He shrugged.
“GHis a better angle.”
“Let’s go over a few rules,” Thomas said as he sat down.
“Shoot,” Frisco replied, relaxing into his chair.
“First things first. Angel, whom you’ve met already, is mine. Race, whom you will meet, is Morgan’s. Hands off our ladies. Let’s just get that free and clear.”
He sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “I’m having enough trouble with my woman to even bother thinking about someone else’s.”
“Why don’t you tell us about your skills?” James said, changing the subject.
“I was a Navy man for years, serving as a SEAL. I can’t go into detail. Many of my missions are still classified,” he said, shifting in his seat.
