“Come on, baby. Talk to me.” After another hour, I’ve debugged another module, but West hasn’t called. As I fall into bed, the meds turning the world fuzzy and warm, I hope he’s okay and that HuskyFan finds somepeace.
9
West
The squawkin my ear might as well be a whisper for all I react. Training I’d thought long forgotten races back in a heartbeat as another member of the security team offers the “all clear” from theparkinglot.
From my post at the south corner of the room, I watch one of the richest men on the West Coast waltz across the dance floor with his wife. At least he’s not an ass—or hasn’t been. Ryan Meltzer introduced himself to each member of the security team when we arrived, apologized for the dress code—tuxedos don’t exactly let a guy move freely—and assured us that he’d follow our orders to the letter should anything gowrong.
I resist the urge to snort. The agency—Security Agents For Everyone—or SAFE—vetted tonight’s guest list. Meltzer’s greatest danger comes from his wife’s spiked heels. He’s a much better dancer thansheis.
Tapping the button hidden inside the jacket sleeve, I relay my own check-in. “Ballroom South—allclear.”
Once my counterpart on the north side of the room confirms he’s seen no trouble, I gesture to Meltzer. As the band plays the closing notes of the song, he draws his wife in close, claims her mouth in a lingering kiss, and then laughs when everyone around them bursts into applause and wolfwhistles.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. I’m afraid Sarah and I have an early day tomorrow. We’re flying to Washington to speak on the behalf of all underprivileged youth in America. Please, enjoy the open bar and don’t forget to call yourcongressperson.”
Meltzer waves to the crowd as he and his wife glide off the floor. I resist the urge to check my watch. Six hours on alert, surrounded by tired music, Seattle’s business elite clinking glasses of champagne and tossing back shots, and droning speeches leaves me needing two aspirin and a doublecheeseburger.
Phillips, a former marine and the owner of SAFE, shakes my hand as Meltzer’s car service whisks him out of the country club parking lot. “Thanks for filling in, Sampson. Grab an application when you come pick up your check tomorrow. I’d love to have you on my roster—officially. I can bump you up to thirty bucks an hour once you’ve passed the backgroundcheck.”
My pride takes a swift kick. A hundred bucks—after taxes—for six hours of work isn’t worth the constant pressure of a tie around my neck, the throbbing pain of a cheap earbud in my ear, and the loss of repeated nights talking—or making loveto—Cam.
As I pull away from the drive-thru and my stomach rumbles, I swallow the last bit of resolveIhad.
“I knew you’d call.” The deep voice on the other end of the line carries a hint of bemusement and a truckload ofexhaustion.
I take a deep breath to keep from hanging up on the arrogant ass. “You win, Ryker. Set up a meeting withyourteam.”
* * *
Thoughts of Camkeep me going until I collapse into bed well after one in the morning. I can’t sleep until I call her. Except…she doesn’t deserve myshittymood.
Fuck.
Three text messages waitforme.
Just got home and changed into my robe. And nothing else. Wish youwerehere.
Now that you’re thinking about me naked, I need afavor.
Missed you tonight. Headed to bed, call me first thingtomorrow?
Before I can stop myself, I’ve dialed hernumber.
“Hey, soldier,” she says, then yawns in the cutest high-pitched moan. “Longnight?”
“You have no idea…” My screen flickers to life as Cam connects to FaceTime, and I can’t remember what I’d been about to say. Her breasts threaten to spill out of a black tank, her hair curls over her bare shoulders, and in the dim light, her eyesshine.
“West?” She frowns, and I ache to wrap my arms around her, to feel her curves mold against me, to taste her. “Can Iseeyou?”
With a deep breath I hope centers me, I tap the video button. “Better, angel?” I try to smile, but I must not be very successful, because she cocks her head and adjusts her grip on thephone.
“You’re tired. I thought you were just working a country club party. Did somethinghappen?”
The concern in her voice smooths the rough edges of my mood. “No. Nothing. The band couldn’t even play any good music. I don’t know why the guy hired us. The only danger in that room came from the salmon mousse. By the end of the night, itsmelledrank.”
She laughs, deep and raspy, and her eyes unfocus for a moment before she stretches and shows off a bit of her toned stomach. “Can I see more of you?” she asks and then slides one strap of her tank off hershoulder.
