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My father warned me things are heating up, and now that my crew is spooked about hearsay on the street, I’m calling a meeting.

I throw my burner phone on the dining room table, where Capri sits freshly showered eating a bowl of oatmeal. She looks like a fucking snack with her hair all scraggly and wet. Actually, when does she not?

A very hungry part of me wants to whip my cock right out of my pants and try to convince her again what she’s missing. Love when the broad blushes every time her eyes land on it.

“Can I help you?” She gives me attitude, but I can see that smirk she’s hiding.

“Snaps will be here in a few minutes, so why don’t you get your ass back upstairs.”

She huffs. “Ashamed of your wife?”

“Wives let their husbands fuck them,” I growl.

“Is that all I am to you? A hole to stick your penis in?” She blushes as she says the words, and I catch it.

“Eyes up here, sweetheart.” I knock on the table, pointing to my eyes. “’Less you want to go for round two of this foreplay bullshit.”

“Oh, you didn’t enjoy yourself?”

I grunt. “How long’s this going to take?”

She shrugs one shoulder, and I simultaneously want to kiss her and shove my cock in her mouth. As a matter of fact, I feel a twinge down there already. Not sure if it’s the banter, her looks, or what, but I’m crazy about her.

Movement in the nine cameras LED display draws my attention. “He’s here.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” She picks up her bowl and starts for the stairs. But before she gets past me, I grab her arm.

We hold each other’s eyes. Hers pierce me like fucking arrows.

I lean in and give her a kiss.

“Today didn’t turn out so bad,” I say.

She’s so taken aback her jabbering mouth finally shuts. There’re those reddening cheeks again.

As she heads for the stairs, something comes over me. I figure she’s going to be around for a while given the circumstances, so… might as well give her the choice.

“You can stay if you want.”

She turns around. “Really?”

“If you’re curious, I suppose it’s fine. Just go do your makeup and hair something similar to last night. And your name is fucking Misty, got it?”

She smiles wide. “See you in a bit.”

Knock! Knock! Knock!

I head for the door and open it to find a familiar lanky, slightly hunched man with a disheveled polo.

“Snaps.”

He offers me his cheek, giving me a waft of his aftershave. “Boss. How are you?” He slaps my shoulder twice while strutting inside. “Could’ve slept sixteen more hours, y’know. Was doing the—um—the uh—books this morning for GFE Plus.”

That’s my escort business I had him take charge of last night. Girlfriend Experience is the term we hustlers use to pretend like we’re kosher.

I grab the back of his neck lovingly – ’cause he is like a little fucked up brother to me – then nudge him toward the couch. “Not my priority right now,” I say, taking a seat on the other side of the L-shaped sectional.

It’s been years, but this man across from me proved his loyalty when he took a bullet that saved my life. Fucking cartel. Honestly, I wouldn’t be sitting here if he hadn’t dove and tackled me to the floor in that dark cargo ship. Him nearly bleeding out in my arms still haunts me. But we made it through.