Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“I’m here,” I announce. “And you’re going to owe me at least two weeks’ worth of IT support for this. Consider it hazard pay.”
“Actually, I kind of think you’ll be paying me when you see Erika.” He steps to the side and I nearly collapse. I hear him tell me her name, but everything but her fades away.
Behind him is a tiny, doll-like girl. She looks like one of those figurines that danced in the jewelry box that sat on the dresser of my foster mom, Patty. Or maybe one of those cake toppers—sweet, edible, gorgeous. Lust like I’ve never felt surges through me, along with a huge need to protect. I hadn’t realized I could feel like this about a girl. I almost want to go back and apologize to the one woman who broke into my apartment because if she felt about me how I’m feeling about Erika, her past actions make sense. As I stare down at the crown of the dark-haired girl’s head, the only thing I can think of is how I want to lift her into my arms and carry her to some fortress where I’ll bolt the castle gates shut so that no one can get inside to see her but me.
“Tank, this is Erika. Erika, this is Tank. He’s going to walk you home.”
I’d talk, but I can’t. My tongue doesn’t work. Neither does my brain. Apparently, my legs don’t either. I’ve taken root in the ground. Erika bobs her small head.
I probably would’ve stayed like that—petrifying into a tree trunk—if a dickwad hadn’t tried to push by her without saying “excuse me.” I snap to attention, shove the guy across the room and tuck Erika under my arm.
“We’ll be going,” I inform Audley.
He grins like the smug bastard he is. “I’ll text my bill to you tomorrow.”
“Asshole,” I mutter, but without any heat because damn if he doesn’t deserve some kind of finder’s fee. Erika’s a treasure. No. Scratch that. Erika’s my treasure.
CHAPTER 2
ERIKA
Tank drapes his big arm over my shoulder as he guides me from the house. It’s not as heavy as I thought it would be, but I can only guess he’s not letting all of the weight drop onto me. Still he manages to keep me in a firm hold. The man is a human shield. He’s not physically pushing anyone out of the way because they are too close to me, but the crowd has automatically given him a wide berth. It’s like they know better and no one wants to get hurt. The crowd just divides and gives him room due to his gigantic size. Tank looks like he could launch a guy clear across a room with barely a brush. Based on the crowd’s reaction to him, it would be my guess that it’s happened before. The only thing I can do is stare up at what has to be one of the biggest men I’ve ever come face to face with.
“Big” is an understatement. I normally feel small next to most people, but now it’s almost comical. I tuck a piece of my hair back into my messy bun. I’ve always been self-conscious of my hair. It’s been thick since I was a little girl. My mom kept cutting it off until I begged her to finally let me grow it out. I always felt like a boy when it was short, and it didn’t help that I had a small build. I had no idea how hard it would be to maintain.
It finally grew into a giant mass of hair that felt like it weighed more than me at one point. I couldn't bear to cut it after having begged my mom to let it grow for so long. Lucky for me I’ve grown into it. Still, having been teased about it when I was younger, I always pull it up. Then I started dancing. Hair gets in the way when you dance, so I almost always have it in a ponytail.
I push into my massive bodyguard just a touch, thinking that he won’t notice. I want to know what his giant form feels like. I tell myself it’s because I find his body interesting. The man is built and I know he’s an athlete. You don’t find the Audley twins’ bodies interesting. My brain gives me a small reality check, but I ignore it. My heart races in my chest—the opposite of the calm, stoic look he has on his face—as I take a peek up at the man that I’m now pressed into. He smells of fresh lemons and honey. I’m not sure what I thought he would smell of, but that wasn't it. I want to push into him more and brush my nose against the simple black shirt he has on to see if it’s coming from there or if it’s him.