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I never wanted anything to do with how this town worked. It’s a haven, though, and a place someone like me can hide.
It’s where I grew up.
Fortunately, I'm the last remaining member of my family line, and no one dares to test the waters I wade in. Guess I made a bed even vipers won’t sleep in.
Unlike Hellena, who has been just plain stupid in her dealings with not only that girl, Ora Clive, but also DeSante, that tall informant I swear I’ve seen somewhere before. Playing with fire.
Like I knew she would, again.
Ora’s grandfather has hired me on several occasions to clean up after his MC when their dealings go south. At least when Hellena is with Ora, I know the Block MC is watching. It’s almost as tight as the protection I can offer.
Ex-military. Seasoned vets of suburban warfare.
When she’s at DeSante’s, though… at work…
It makes me nuts.
I can’t go within a four-block radius without setting off their flags. DeSante’s security is military-grade.
But I know I can’t trust that he’s actually keeping her safe. It’s all for his own sake and the sake of keeping secrets for the people I’m pretty sure he works for.
Which leaves me sitting with my thumb up my ass more often than not, waiting for her to come home. Like some stay-at-home lapdog.
Most days, it’s short lived even when she’s here, passing ships in the night. She leaves early, gets home late. I leave in the middle of the night on call, come back midday.
Honestly, it’s a good thing.
I’m terrible at making small talk.
Even so, I should check in with her.
Last night, she got home late from some job with DeShithead. I heard her come in. Go to bed. I can tell she’s worked up, thrown off her normal routine. Not to mention the fact that she got today and tomorrow off.
DeSante isn't that nice.
Something’s up.
She spent most of the day around the house, watching TV, reading.
I spent the day out in the garage, then out in my other office, the trailer I keep hidden a mile from the house, checking up on sit-reps around town. It’s where I’ve moved most of my work stuff since she moved in, just in case she gets nosy.
It also has all of my surveillance cam equipment.
Where I may or may not be checking on her, curled up on the couch.
Right about noon, she gets up, goes to the spare room. When she comes out…
She’s only wearing a thong and her bra, her sweet, round ass cheeks bouncing as she gets out the vacuum. I know I should click the monitor off, but I can’t look away.
I’m instantly rock hard, clutching the arms of my chair.
I promise myself I'll only watch for a minute, then I’ll go run six miles and take an ice-cold shower.
Unconsciously, she hikes the lace strap of her thong up over her hip, making my head spin. I couldn’t look away if I tried, now. She’s dancing a bit as she pulls the handle back, pushes forward again. Must have her headphones on.
Everything about her is graceful. Captivating.
She stops vacuuming to wipe down the kitchen counter, leaning out over the bar. The movement presses her tits together, squeezing them up like they might explode out of the confines of the cream-colored cups of her bra.
