Page 42 of His Curvy Woman

“Keep an eye out, Whitley as well. If you see it again try and get a plate number so I can run it and catch this mother fucker. I’d say this could be nothing, but I doubt that at this point. The last thing I want either you or your woman to do is engage him.”

A woman comes up to our table with an apron tied around her waist. “Hey Honey, can I get you something to drink?”

“A beer, whatever you have on draft is fine,” I say and look back at McManus.

“We have a few choices -”

“Pick one, I don’t care, just as long as it’s cold,” I tell her and wait for her to acknowledge my request.

Her expression changes and I can tell I’ve pissed her off. She looks at McManus, and before she can ask, he holds up his drink to signal he’d like another then he looks back at me. She walks off to get our drinks calling us assholes.

McManus slides a picture across the table. “His name is Alexei Vasiliev. He’s Kozlov’s nephew. He flew into New York a few months ago and has slowly made his way down south. Word is he’s looking to make a name for himself by killing the people who put his uncle in prison.”

“Fuck.”

He gives me a curt nod. “That’s pretty much where we’re at. Since you opted out of witness protection, you’re first on the chopping block I suspect. I think we can use this to our advantage, though.”

The waitress drops off our beers and walks off without saying a word. We both take a healthy drink and set our beers down, not paying her any attention.

“How?”

“You’re not going to like it.” The man doesn’t spare words.

“So, help me God, if the next words out of your mouth are to use Whitley as bait, don’t fucking say them,” I warn.

He’s quiet for long moments. We both take another drink of our beers.

“He doesn’t want Whitley, he wants you and your parents, Hunter. Unfortunately for him, and you, he can’t get to your parents unless he has you.”

And it dawns on me, he doesn’t want Whitley. “You want to use me as bait?”

He nods sharply. “I think it’s our best option of not getting anyone else caught in the crossfire of his plan.”

I’m quiet, thinking of all the possibilities of how this could go down. What if I don’t make it? “Look, technically I can’t ask this of you. But waiting until he makes a move isn’t always the best choice. Who knows what he’s thinking or what brand of fucked-up he’s willing to dole out?”

“Give me a few days to think about it. If I agree, I’ll need assurances from you.”

He’s about to say something but holds it back and shakes his head in agreement. I lay a ten on the table and get up to leave. “I’ll let you know if I see the car again.”

“Will do. Talk to you in a few days either way?”

I nod. “I’ll let you know.”

When I get out to my truck, I check my phone and see I’ve got a few texts from Whitley asking for a double cheeseburger and an apple pie in addition to her fries and Coke. She also sent me a selfie of her and Arya laying on the couch.

It’s about seven o’clock when I get home. Whitley and Arya are in the same spot as the picture she sent me. She looks up when I set her food down on the side table and gives me a soft smile.

“I’m so happy you’re home.” She says and yawns.

“You’re only using me to bring you food.”

“This is true, but I’m also using you for your body, so there’s that too.” She says and laughs.

Whitley sits up so I can sit beside her, and Arya jumps down to lay on the floor. I hand over her drink, in a styrofoam cup because she’s weird like that, and her food then sits down next to her.

She leans over and kisses me softly. “Thank you, babe.”

“You’re welcome. Anything for you.”

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