“We have visitors at the house. Including a couple assholes walking the grounds.”
“Casing the place.”
He half chuckled. “Maybe so. We’re going to a safe location.”
“A hotel?”
“No, something better. I have no doubt they’ll check credit cards. And I need weapons. You need a powerful computer to initiate the social media blitz. Relax, baby. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
As he made a turn, I settled back into my seat. While there was no way of knowing how this would end, I felt safe with him. Even though I knew the men of the Privileged were dangerous, I also believed Kendrick would do anything to keep me safe.
Anything.
The festive lights of South Beach shouldn’t surprise me, although so much about the handsome yet ruthless man continued to do so. Every time I thought I had Kendrick figured out, he surprised me. Playing guitar. The lengths he’d gone to for his sister. His ability to walk into any situation and own it.
As he made several turns I studied his face. In the garish neon lights, every sculpted feature was on display. His cheekbones, and his nose that might have been broken before. The slight crook added to his ruggedness.
Even the length of his dark eyelashes was sexy as hell.
He made another turn, pulling into what appeared to be an underground garage, complete with a digitized security code for entrance. “What is this place?” I’d seen clubs and various restaurants, people crowding the sidewalks while others roamed the beach only yards away. This was the heart of the action in Miami, a beautiful, diverse section of town that never slept.
“You get to see the real guy underneath the Armani suits.” Kendrick laughed and wound his way through a garage filled with mostly expensive vehicles, pulling into an assigned space. As soon as he cut the engine, he glanced in my direction. “Just promise me you won’t make fun of my decorative skills.”
“Oh, this I have to see.”
He laughed all the way to the elevator, but even though it seemed like he was relaxed, I could tell otherwise. He was constantly scanning the dimly lit garage, his jacket unbuttoned and his hand on his weapon.
When we landed on the floor, he pressed his hand against me, going into the hallway first. Finally, he motioned for me to step out, protecting me as we headed down a long hall.
“Wait right here,” he directed, his voice soft but his tone harsh. As soon as he was inside, I noticed the security system on the wall.
Three minutes later, he finally allowed me inside.
“Home, sweet home.”
So many aspects of Kendrick’s personality were unexpected, which kept the time spent with him exciting in a way that didn’t feel possible. I should feel nothing but anger and sadness, yet he always found a way to make me smile.
Including seeing his personal space.
There were no ten-thousand-dollar rugs and plush living room furniture costing more than I made in an entire year. There were no fabulous art sculptures purchased on a fabulous Italian vacation or art deco wall paintings any art thief would die to get their hands on.
While the leather furniture appeared comfy, the rich camel color very appropriate for a rugged man, it had seen better days. Yet the setting worked with a simple yet artful area rug and glass coffee table. Given the building’s original layout as being a warehouse of some sort, the windows fronting the South Beach strip were at least twenty-five feet tall, floor to ceiling, allowing for an incredible view of the ocean.
There were two other guitars on stands, and a fabulous music and entertainment system. I had a feeling that’s where his money had been spent.
The open layout allowed one room to shift into another, what appeared to be an office space sectioned off by incredible frosted screens. Kitchen appliances gleamed on the far wall, stainless steel with granite countertops on a long island allowing for seating of six.
For some reason, I was holding my breath as I walked toward the bank of windows, amazed how incredible the setting was. When I finally turned around, that’s when I realized there wasa loft overhead, a curved staircase and iron railings surrounding two large rooms. One a library complete with several dark wood bookcases.
The other a bedroom.
What caused a little laugh was the other furniture in an entirely separate seating area: a huge two-seater–plus chair with a massive ottoman flanked by two glorified beanbag chairs.
With an amused look on his face, Kendrick was watching me carefully.
He finally moved toward the leather chair, carefully removing his weapon and placing it in the center of the coffee table. I took a deep breath while he yanked off his jacket and tie, tossing them as unwanted and unneeded.
“This is incredible,” I said, laughing. “Very eclectic.”
