In the meantime, there's plenty of man candy in the world. Might as well make them feel appreciated.
I blow the sex god a kiss as I walk by, and he runs his tongue along his upper lip with a wink.
Holy shit balls.
I take it back… This place is definitely worth revisiting.
Unfortunately, I must leave sexual fantasy land to focus on keeping the idiot in front of me in one fancy piece. He heads straight toward a room, pulls out a key card, and opens the door.
Did that fucker have a reservation and couldn't be bothered to tell me jack shit? I bite off a whole litany of curses. Every one of them well-earned.
My fists clench, but I keep my cool, and simply follow him into the room.
It has an exit in the back, and I waste no time ensuring it's locked. There's opulent furniture, a clearly visible camera, and a selection of drinks and drugs. Nothing that looks like a threat.
I put the authoritative growl in my voice that's made plenty of buck privates all but piss themselves, then try to reason with the man again. "Now would be a very good time to tell me why we are here."
He continues ignoring me, helps himself to a line and a drink, and then falls back onto the chair, sprawling out like he owns the place.
Maybe he does. Must be nice being rich.
I don't have to wait long before the mystery is solved about why we're here. Two more men enter the room, clearly also invited because my client remains calm, and they have a key.
Unlike me, they still have the telltale bulges of weapons.
Not good.
I try to get the attention of my client, once again to no effect.
The man in front looks me over. "Really, Chet? A female bodyguard?"
My asset shrugs. "It was the best I could do on short notice."
My eyes narrow at the insult. Guns pretty much even up the...
Oh, right. Sex god has my advantage locked away.
Still, there's no need to be offensive about it. Plus, I have a few tricks they probably don't want me showing them that involve knives in tender places. Imbeciles.
I keep myself loose, and don't let any of my thoughts show on my face. Even with the ache in my arm, I’m confident about my aim. Just because something gets smashed to pieces doesn't mean it can't heal up just as ready to kick ass as the rest of me.
It just requires some adjustment.
And insults? Nothing they can say could be worse than a staff sergeant yelling in your face.
"This won't do much for your debt," the man continues.
What won't?
I glance at my client, but he doesn't have any currency or valuables in his hands. If they wanted money transferred, they wouldn't have needed to meet.
My skin prickles. Nothing about this feels right.
I need to get out of here, preferably with my asset still alive, but after the way he's acted, it's no longer topping my list of priorities. Mar will just have to deal.
"Let's finish this in the back," the man says.
I clear my throat. "I advise against that."
