She glares at me, the fire in her eyes lighting up the room. She’s fucking beautiful. “I can. I did.”
Not what I want to hear. And I don’t need the stubborn attitude either.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’ve got to get a grip. There’s a solution here if I cool my head, think this through.
Mira needs a better-paying job than the one she has. I get that. I’m trying to not consider the possibility that she took the job at Blue to piss me off. Both Gen and Cali were sexually harassed at Blue, yet Mira takes a job there? She knows it’s the most dangerous place for her to work. But telling Mira what to do isn’t effective either. She’ll do the exact opposite.
I’ve got to fight Mira on her own playing field. She expects me to boss her around and act like an ass, because that’s what I’ve done so far, which, admittedly, is pretty messed up.
So I’ll do the opposite.
Which means I can’t tell her to quit her job. Goddammit, think.
I need to protect her—I mean—fuck, where did that come from? I need to make sure she’s not doing anything dangerous. The only way to get her out of Cali’s place is to make sure she’s safe.
I pop my neck and scrub a hand down my face. Fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut about her new job. But I’ve got my own plans. Good thing I didn’t waste time after she left this morning. I made a few phone calls, put some things into motion that will ensure Mira doesn’t get into trouble.
I grab my keys from the counter and slip on my Vans, tying them.
Mira’s gaze tracks me. “Where are you going?”
Hah, wouldn’t she like to know? Fine. I’ll tell her. Let her mull this one over. “Blue Casino.”
“What? Don’t you dare, Tyler. I need this job.” She scurries after me as I head to my car.
I jerk open the rusted door and turn to her, taking in the flush of her cheeks, the beautiful intensity of her eyes, which typically melt my resolve, but not today. “Don’t worry, Mira. Your job is safe. I have something else I need to do at Blue.”
Mira
I never discovered what business Tyler had at Blue, but it didn’t matter because I received an official offer letter for the assistant position. Whatever Tyler did, he didn’t ruin my career prospects.
I’ve spent the last few days preparing for my new job. I went into work and told them the situation and they let me go, just as my coworkers said they would. My boss was pretty bummed, but she understood the pay-raise aspects. Lewis wasn’t happy either, at first, but once I assured him Drake was on forced leave until the sexual harassment charges were investigated, he mellowed out. Lewis is confident that Drake will get his ass nailed to the wall. He’s not worried the guy will get off.
The only thing that has me worried now is Tyler’s behavior. He’s been dodgy, disappearing for long periods of time. It’s better if we stay away from each other, but there has to be a hitch. Tyler went from being all up in my business to letting things go. I don’t trust it. I can’t tell if he’s mad, or if he has something up his sleeve.
Tyler doesn’t get it. I couldn’t turn down the money Hayden offered. The five-grand signing bonus is almost half the amount I still owe. What sealed my fate was the salary she quoted. It’s almost double what I was making as a dealer. I couldn’t afford not to take the job.
Tyler may be worried I’m getting myself into trouble, but this will work out. I’ll have my debt paid off in no time. Then I can move out and he will be rid of me. Crap, he’ll be thanking me.
I arrive at the casino more nervous than I can remember ever being, though the interview for this job came in a close second. I don’t want to screw up, and as much as Hayden pumped up my ego with why she wanted to hire me, I can’t help worrying I’ll let her down.
I enter the elevator, and am pondering how to keep it together and not look like an idiot newbie when an arm shoots between the closing doors and a security guard steps inside.
Not just any security guard.
Tyler.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper harshly. “And why are you dressed like that?”
I’ve never had a thing for security guards—men in firefighter uniforms, why, yes, yes indeed—but security guards? No, they are not what I consider sexy among the uniformed hotties. They’re like the bottom-dwellers of the uniform hierarchy.
But Tyler’s uniform clings to his muscled shoulders and chest, his fitted shirt tucked into a narrow waist with—I peek behind him—his amazing uniformed ass on display, dammit.
He’s a hot security guard. And he works here. Obviously.
Son of a bitch, he tricked me.
“I could ask you the same thing. Wait,” he says, cocking his head to the side as the elevator doors close. “I already have.”
