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Demanding bastard.
"I specialize in assassination, Mr. Mason. That's why I'm your lead protector." I shift in my seat to face him.
"Assassination . . . seriously? That’s what your file says?"
I chuckle. "No. My file says I specialize in undercover and tactical solutions, which translates into 'I kill people who’re better dead than arrested'."
He swallows and takes a deep breath. "And I need that kind of protector, why?"
"You don't know shit about the people you've pissed off, do you, Mr. Mason?"
It dawns on me that while he's campaigned against the sex trade, his knowledge of the inner workings of the trafficking world may be very limited. That’ll get him killed quicker than anything else does. While ignorance can be bliss, it can also be deadly.
"I've worked with Interpol and other agencies for the last five years. I'm not an idiot, Agent."
"I wasn't saying that. I'm saying that you obviously have no idea how trafficking rings work internally, or how they deal with people like you. I do. I can spot another assassin easily. If you continue to get in the way, without us, you'll end up dead." Trying to sound stern, yet pleasant at the same time, is harder than I expect.
‘Bitch’ may be my middle name, but this guy needs to get himself educated quick, before shit really gets deep.
"Fair enough," he says quietly.
My hip vibrates and I pull out my cell phone. "Williams."
"Hey, it's Hayato." His Japanese accent is thick around his name.
I smile to myself but notice Blake glancing at me. "I figured as much. No one else on the team sounds like they're calling me from Kobe's Steak House, dude."
"Lily, you’re not funny. One day, I’ll take you to Japan, see how funny you try to be then." He chuckles.
"That’ll be the damn day. What do you need?"
"Let Mason know we’re installing security cameras in his apartment. Not up for debate."
I groan internally. "Yeah. No problem." I end the call and slide my phone back in my hip case.
"Everything okay?" Rhett’s voice is guarded.
"Yeah. Our other two team members are installing new security cameras at Mason’s apartment."
"Is that necessary? I happen to like my privacy," Blake says.
I tilt my head to the side. "I think you’d like your life more. Yes, it's necessary."
"How’re you going to handle my work schedule, events, and time with my friends and family?"
"However Jax tells me to. If you like, we can discuss it this evening once the team settles in at your apartment.
"Fine," he says, exasperated.
I sigh, rubbing my face with my hands. We knew he wasn't keen on security, but this is going to be a huge argument. Not that I mind arguing, usually, but after today, the only thing I really want, is some sleep.
My eyes close for a second, as Blake enters the tunnel leading into the city. He turns the radio off, and my lids fly open as the pull in my stomach clenches. I sit up straighter and glance at him. His hands grip the steering wheel as he forces the air from his lungs making his cheeks puff out.
I wonder what touching him would be like? Wait . . . what the fuck?
The sensation in my gut only gets stronger, the longer we're in the dark. The orange lights inside the tunnel flash by, illuminating his face slightly as we pass them. I bounce my leg, trying to still the strange, and frankly annoying urges randomly coursing through my body. Finally, a white light appears and within seconds, we're cruising back in the waning sunlight.
I shake my head and roll down my window as a loud sigh echoes from beside me.