“Because the first time they mess up, Bones would throw one of his little metal stars between their eyes,” Skip says, laughing. “It’s safer for everyone if he just watches from the sidelines.”
Bones doesn’t deny it.
He just smirks.
Caveman…the lot of them.
***
“I don’t think a bodyguard is necessary,” I tell my brother. “I’ve been here on my own plenty of times. I used to live upstairs, remember?”
“I still don’t understand why you can’t just work from home,” Tank grumbles.
“Because I have clients coming in today to get measured,” I remind him for what feels like the fifth time. “Would you rather I invite them to my house instead? Because then they’d know exactly where I live.”
I lift a brow, letting it sink in.
“And that gives them inside access to the compound,” I add calmly. “Something neither of you would ever be okay with.”
“Just promise me you won’t go anywhere without your guard,” Tank sighs. “At least until we get a better idea of how things are about to change for you.”
“That depends entirely on who my guard is,” I say, glaring at the two men who have apparently made it their life’s mission to give me a constant headache.
“That would be me,” Maverick says from the doorway, casually leaning against the frame. “Well, for the next hour, anyway. I’m holding the position until my cousins get here.”
My eyes widen. “Which cousins? Surely it’s not the twins?”
Laughing, Maverick nods.
“Is that wise?” I add quickly.
“No,” Maverick says with a broad, unapologetic grin. “Not in the slightest. But they’re the best protection one can get. There isn’t a man alive you’d be safer with.”
“But…the twins,” I repeat, because it absolutely deserves repeating. “They hate people. And public places. Did I mention people? And public places? Both of which I am. And will be in.”
Maverick chuckles. “Exactly why no one ever gets close to them. Or you.”
“But I need people to come into the store,” I remind him. “I need them to feel comfortable. To not be scared off.”
I gesture vaguely. “Really? The twins?”
I lower my voice. “Do they even talk? Are they even human?”
Maverick’s smile turns slow. Knowing.
“They talk when necessary,” Maverick says. “Usually, to each other. Sometimes to me.”
“I don’t believe you,” I reply flatly. “I don’t think they know how to use human language. I’m convinced they communicate telepathically much like Micah does with that machine of his.”
Maverick laughs. “They’re very human. They just don’t like being noticed. Which makes them excellent at their jobs.”
“And terrifying,” I mutter.
“Only to people who mean harm,” he says smoothly. “To everyone else, they’ll just be two quiet men who enjoy standing in corners and pretending not to exist.”
Tank snorts. “Good luck with that.”
Maverick shrugs. “Fear is a matter of perspective.”
