Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I use the peace, love, music mug to muffle my giggles.
“And here I thought you were the smart one in your relationship,” Reynolds jokes as he places his dish on top of Blu’s.
“Smart enough to have you recite me your POA for today’s outing,” my boyfriend’s bite is attached to him folding his arms across his chest. “Report.”
“We are to meet Miss Lindsay at Loca Mocha Casabloca at twelve hundred hours.”
“Still think that’s a terrible name for a coffee chain,” Blu grumbles under his breath in the process of retrieving his own go bag.
“We are to meet her there unless Seventeen sends Carmichael a text before ten forty-five indicating his meeting was moved, and he can indeed bring her the package here at the penthouse.”
It’s highly unlikely.
And it’s even more unlikely because I texted him that if he gets that type of unexpected opening to go have lunch with the beautiful barista who he’s totally worried about blowing it with.
I can leave this place to pick up my own mail from my own assistant.
It’s not an end of the world situation like Thirty Seconds to Spar is making it out to be.
Slater’s stare shifts to me. “What’s in the package, Angel Cake?”
“Sensitive, international documents needed to help us redesign our current geographical risk analysis algorithm,” I casually retort, not at all surprised to see the stunned expressions on Blu, Reynolds, and Aviva’s faces.
Hey, we’re all good in our respective avenues.
Mine’s just a little more difficult for most people to understand.
“And you’re positive that this cannot wait until we’re done with recon?” Slater inquires for the tenth time in less than twenty-four hours.
No exaggeration.
Look, I understand he views this as a high-risk scenario while the math states it’s low to medium at the highest; however, I have a job to do around the job of searching through files for who hates me.
And said job – on the occasion – includes requiring physical information.
“I need to begin evaluating, Slater.” Gripping my mug tighter allows me to really ground myself into my words. “I’m already behind on this project due to helping locate this target and scavenger hunting for the other. I cannot afford to get anymore behind.”
He reluctantly nods his understanding. “Reynolds.”
“Parking is to be done in front of the building on the main road, their front lot, or the lot directly across from it, all within camera range. If parking is unavailable at these locations, we are to circle until it is.”
“Intense,” Aviva whispers to me.
“The double doors are the optimal entry and exit location,” Reynolds continues to explain, body positioning itself back at the island. “However, there are two rear locations, one is the emergency exit, one is the employees only exit, which is through the employees only door and leaks into the back alleyway. From that point there are two possible escape routes, the one to the left is the fastest, most direct back to our vehicle, yet the one to the right is the one with the most amount of camera coverage. Regardless of which direction we take, protocol has me in front, client closely in back, body between me and possible bullets, weapon drawn to disable potential threats first and securing them for questioning second.”
“God, it’s like if guard bees were men and could talk,” the woman beside me gleefully gushes.
“You go straight there and back,” Slater states without room for argument. “No exceptions.”
“Roger that,” my day security detail affirms.
His eyes meet mine next as he saunters in my direction. “Angel Cake?”
“Mmm,” I playfully hum, big brown eyes glowing in mirth, “but what if I’m hungry?”
“We have food here.”
“Yes, but food from a drive through could be better.”
“Angel Cake.”
The lack of amusement in his expression only has me pushing him more. “Probably would be better.”
“Arley.”
“Probably would be best.”
“Arlette.”
“Ohmygod, fine! I will just starve if necessary. We’ll come straight home even if it means I pass out from lack of burger in the car because you refused to let me eat.”
Upon his arrival at my side, Slater finally lets the corner of his lips kick upward. “Thank you for your sacrifice.”
“The world needs more people like me in it.”
“No,” my boyfriend immediately disagrees while his hands lift to gently cup my face. “The world just needs you.” His thumbs deliver a sweet stroke to my cheeks. “Same for me.” There isn’t even a chance to return the sentimental words. He drops his open mouth onto mine, tongue wasting no time reiterating the proclamation. Powerful, unforgettable presses are given and instantly reciprocated, an action that somehow convinces him to increase the pressure…the speed…the intensity, until I’m fighting to not only keep up but catch a breath. At that moment, he abandons the swollen mess he’s managed to make and quietly says, “I love you.”
Seeing the bright blue lettering fills me with the same awe as hearing it. “I love you, too.”