The Master's Choice (13 page)
“Three months ago,” he grinned back at her. “Would you believe I was there?”
“You’re shitting me?” she stared. “Where were your seats? No, don’t tell me,” she held her hand up. “Front row, where you could actually see what the hell was going on.”
“Pretty much,” he nodded.
“I am so jealous,” she sighed. “I practically spent a paycheck and barely got on the floor. But it was so worth it.” She sighed again as if in rapture. “What about the people you were with? Won’t they…”
“They were the guys you just met,” he assured her. “All I have to do is text them a few deets about what you were wearing and they’ll invent an entire conversation if asked.”
“Cool,” she sighed, settling back down. She gave him a sly look. “You might not be so bad after all.”
He grunted. “Thanks. You take kickboxing classes. You might not be so bad either.” He gave her the sly look right back. “I can’t handle whimpy, whiney women.”
She grinned back. “Now, tell me why we need to do this charade again.”
“So far, your name hasn’t shown up in connection with any of the charges directly related to the shit that went down at MC today. If the men fired don’t connect you with anything, then they won’t come after you. If you suddenly have a bodyguard, then someone might start putting pieces together. We cover that angle with a boyfriend who uses this as an excuse to move in with you.”
“Let me guess,” she drawled as he turned into the parking garage. “You’re suddenly over-protective and think that I’m the perfect woman.”
“That sounds good,” he nodded. Ignoring the stunned expression on her face, he rolled his window down. Leaning toward the booth, he spoke to the attendant. “Name’s Quincy. Three month pass was called in about half an hour ago.”
Next to him, he heard Debbie choking and glanced over his shoulder. She had her hand over her mouth, her eyes bugging out of her head.
“Here you go, sir. Payment just came through a minute ago,” the older man nodded, extending an envelope. Quincy turned back around and took the envelope. “Security card works for both the entrance over there,” the man’s hand gestured to the right. “As well as raising the arm. Your slot is three-fourteen.”
“Great. Have a good night.”
“You, too, sir.”
As they pulled forward, Debbie burst into the laughter she had suppressed.
“I’m going to regret this, but what is so funny?”
“Me being the perfect woman for anyone. Trust me…no one who knows me is going to buy that.”
“My answer to that, if anyone is stupid enough to bring it up, is that they obviously don’t know you the way I do.”
“I don’t think you understand. I don’t even buy it.”
“Why?”
That seemed to stump her. Finding the slot, Quincy backed in and shut everything off. Turning to her, he found her knees drawn up with her heels resting on the edge of the seat. Her arms were wrapped around her shins and her cheek rested on her knee. He released her seatbelt and turned her toward him. In the florescent light of the garage, the bruising seemed garish on her delicate features.
“Why do you find it hard to believe that a man might see you as the perfect woman for him?”
“Because I’m not perfect,” she whispered. “I’ve screwed up everyone’s life that I’ve ever been involved with. There’s no way anyone, any man, would think I wouldn’t do the same to his.”
“No one’s perfect,” he said slowly, having no idea where this was coming from. “And I find it difficult to believe that you’re that bad.”
“Two examples…Serena was attacked and Claire is about to go live with…”
“Correction…you saved Serena and Claire is a grown woman responsible for her own life,” he admonished.
“You don’t understand now, but you will. Trust me, you will,” she assured him, opening her door and sliding out.
“Goddammit!” he swore, bolting out and around the truck.
He caught her arm and gripped her tightly.
“You do not go anywhere without me,” he ground out, staring down into her brown eyes. “Is that clear? You are under my protection and I take that very seriously. Where you go, I am there. Closer than your shadow. Now, stay here while I get my gear. Stay. Here. Understand?”
“Yeah, yeah,” she grunted.
She scowled as he backed up, taking her with him. Grabbing his duffle bags, he hoisted one over his shoulder, secured the truck and hefted the other. He then took her upper arm. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, not that he had much of that, he ignored the obscenity she muttered under her breath.
“Do I get to pee and poop without a chaperone?”
“Depends on where we are.”
“You are insane.”
“No,” he shook his head. “As much as possible, we’re keeping to your regular routine and…”
“That doesn’t include a caveman for a boyfriend.”
“Enough,” he told her, shaking her arm slightly. “My boss told me to protect you, so that’s what I’m going to do. You don’t like it, then talk to your boss.”
“I just might do that.”
“Well, until tomorrow, you’re stuck with me.”
As they marched toward the brownstone, Quincy could hear her grinding her teeth. He gave himself even odds…spanking her before he fucked her. And he wanted to crawl inside those slippery pants as fast as he could.
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