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"Lily," Jax says gently.
My jaw clenches, forcing the muscles in my neck to flex. "Why the fuck do I have to be head of security?"
"The dick-face probably doesn't have an issue with women, so he won’t give you as hard of a time. He’ll think you’re a pushover," Dresden says, shaking his head.
"Interpol obviously doesn't know shit aboutourLily." Vlad laughs.
The right side of my mouth quirks up, and I chuckle to myself. There’s a strange satisfaction that comes with proving you’re stronger and smarter than a man, at least, there is in my line of work.
Well . . . this could be fun.
"You going to be okay with this?" Jax stands, throwing the folder onto the table.
I chuckle. "Yeah. I love putting bitches in their place."
Dresden and I change into more professional clothing, while we wait for Blake Mason to arrive at Interpol. It’s kind of fun to watch him squirm wearing a long-sleeve button down shirt, tie, and dress slacks. He looks so out of place, continually pulling on the collar of the shirt trying to loosen it. If he flexes, that thing is going to rip. With his beard and stern face, he belongs in anything but dress clothes. I remain in black cargo pants, combat boots, black long-sleeve shirt with a high neckline. Same thing I usually wear. Jax, on the other hand, changed into a full gray suit. It’s the only time he actually looks like our Unit Chief, as opposed to the Nigerian Rebel fighter he used to be.
I'm not even sure why this guy needs protection. According to the profile, Mason’s six-foot-four, well-built, a black belt in karate, and competes in kickboxing tournaments every year. Our Technology Specialist also emailed an article from when he won a mixed martial arts competition in Fredericksburg.
Can't wait to see what he thinks of me being his main source of protection.
This is bound to be another instance of male stupidity.
"Try and behave yourselves today." Jax gives Dresden and I pointed glares.
We try to put on confused faces but fail miserably. Dresden chuckles and runs his fingers through his short brown hair. He's about as likely to get along with Mason, as a tiger and its prey are to share a bed.
"We will, Jax. Relax. This isn't our first rodeo." I sit forward in my chair to pull my hair over my shoulder. After retrieving a hair tie from my pocket, I quickly braid my overly long tresses. Even styled this way it hangs past my waist.
The door to the conference room opens, and we all get out of our seats as Hyde walks into the room, followed by what can only be Blake Mason. Dresden and I step up to flank Jax, and I give Mason the once over, paying close attention to details, as he and Hyde chat.
He’s definitely built. His clothes are custom tailored. He’s wearing a navy blue suit, which is broad in the shoulders and loose enough in the sleeves that when he moves, it just hints at muscled arms, with a white shirt and tie— alternating stripes of navy, light blue, and white. A Rolex on his left wrist peaks from under his sleeve, which are held closed by monogrammed cufflinks. This guy screams money, and a lot of it.
“Mr. Mason, this is Jax Unnami, Unit Chief for the Human Trafficking Taskforce. They’ve been assigned to protect you for a while.” Hyde steps to the side as Jax steps forward and shakes hands with Mason.
“Three of you? I was under the impression your team was larger than this. Monroe made it sound like I was getting a small army,” Blake says in a deep, solid tone.
Jesus Christ. Listening to him talk is like plunging into a hot tub after hours in the snow.
His eyes lock on mine and he stills, his mouth hanging slightly open. Something in my stomach pulls and involuntarily my body shifts forward. I square my shoulders, holding my breath for a moment.
Jax laughs, letting go of his hand. “You are actually. Two of our members have already been sent to your apartment to get settled in, and the other three, including your new driver, will be meeting us later today.”
"Yes, Hyde mentioned I’d need to let my current driver go," Blake says, raising his eyebrow. "Though, I don't understand why it matters who's driving me."
"I doubt your driver is as skilled as Jameson Scott. That’s your new driver’s name," I say, stepping up next to Jax. Dresden does the same on the other side.
"My driver's worked for me for five years and is a dear employee. Your skills don't make me any happier about letting a valued employee go," he says sternly.
I meet his gaze. "Well, your happiness isn't our problem. Your life is. Jameson's an ex-marine and can drive anything from a tank to a motorcycle, so when the choice is run or die, you may appreciate his driving skills more than your valued employee."
"Are all your team members this smart mouthed?" Blake keeps his eyes locked on mine.
Dresden coughs to cover his laughter.
"No, sir. She's one of a kind." Jax shoots me an annoyed, but affectionate glance.
"And doesshehave a name?"