Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Dangling from his arm was a petite little spinner with golden curls and an easy smile. A black cocktail dress hugged her curves, and a flashy necklace dripped diamonds down her chest, the last of which settled right between her breasts. The man said something in her ear as they crossed the room, and she looked up at him, giggling, with a sparkle in her dark eyes that most men would kill for. A glance at her hand also showed a sizable diamond. Engaged. Married.
Whoever they were, they were loaded.
Richie flagged them over. “Reed, Paige, you have a new customer here.”
Reed extended his hand and I shook it, his grip confirming my earlier suspicions. He gave me a warm smile. “Welcome to Parkston’s On the Hill. This is my wife, Paige.”
“Nice to meet you,” the blonde said, shaking my hand once she untangled herself from her husband.
“Thank you. Eric Starr.”
Reed nodded. “Well. Mr. Starr, if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. We cater to just about anything you can dream up.”
Paige looped her arm back through his. “We do have some business to attend to, but again, let us know if there’s anything we can do to make your visit a memorable one.”
“Will do.”
Reed gave a slight nod, and his wife looped her arm back into his, and they walked away.
“Nice people.”
Richie nodded, his eyes still following them until they rounded the corner, out of sight. Then he turned back to me and downed the rest of his drink. “What kind of business brings you to our fair city?”
I turned in my seat, inclining my body towards his ever so slightly. I met his sharp eyes over his drink. “I’m a security consultant.”
Richie smiled, the edges sharper, and his eyes narrowed like a cat on the hunt. “Security, huh? You say that like it’s important. Or it’s a cover for something…else, Mr…what was it again?”
“Starr,” I replied, coolly offering him my hand. He was trying to ruffle my feathers, but I wouldn’t let him. “Eric Starr.”
He took my hand, shaking it firmly. “Richie—”
“—Dalton,” I interjected.
Richie’s eyes flashed, and the muscles in his jaw twitched. I’d hit a nerve.
“I assure you, Mr. Dalton, my business and title are all legit.”
He leaned back and signaled the bartender to bring him another round. “Hmm. So what is it that you do?”
“I solve problems.”
The bartender swooped in and delivered another drink with a smile and a generous view down the front of her top. She wasn’t wearing a bra. I tore my eyes from her before the sight of her rock-hard nipples got me twisted up. I was on the cusp. There wasn’t any room for mistakes. Distractions.
One wrong move could prove to be deadly.
CHAPTER THREE
Bennett
“Problems, you say? What kind of problems?” Richie leaned back, his expression neutral, unimpressed.
I set my forearms on the edge of the bar. With my chin, I pointed out Jake, Richie’s main bodyguard, the one he’d come in with. “I know he’s your guy. He’s supposed to be watching your six. But since I got here, he hasn’t looked my way once. He doesn’t even know you’re talking to me. He’s too busy eye-fucking that blonde waitress over there. I could be anyone. He doesn’t know me. I could have a knife, a gun, something to drop in your drink, and all kinds of bad intentions. He wouldn’t know. He doesn’t care.”
Richie followed my gesture, and I watched the muscles in his jaw tighten as he gave his bodyguard a death glare from twenty paces.
“Besides, I’d say even if he was paying attention, a guy like him couldn’t cross that space before I could draw on you and put your lights out.”
Richie jerked back to face me. “Are you threatening me, Mr. Starr?”
I held up my hands. “On the contrary, Mr. Dalton. I’m a businessman. I solve problems.”
He looked at me and scoffed. “You think I got problems?”
I smiled. “We’ve all got problems, and right now, I have a huge problem. Is there someplace we can talk in private?”
He turned back to the bar and threw the last finger of his whiskey back. “Let’s take a walk, Starr.”
A wave of victory flooded through me, setting my senses on red alert. It was like walking a tightrope without a net below. I had no cushion, no escape, and no plan B.
This was it.
I followed his lead, throwing back the rest of my own glass, and then got down from the barstool. “Sure thing, Mr. Dalton.”
He flicked an irritated glance over at his bodyguard—who still wasn’t looking our way—and then turned back to me and offered a tight-lipped smile. “Call me Richie. We’re friends now, am I right?”
“Absolutely. Call me Eric.”
Richie clapped me on the shoulder. “All right, Eric. Let’s take this discussion somewhere a little quieter. I’m feeling a little exposed here.” Richie glanced around and then gave me the once over again, focusing on my watch, “You got time?”