Page 14 of Hide and Keep

I remember who we’re talking about. Three years is being generous. Ever Munreaux isn’t going for something like a doctorate.

Three years of fifty grand a month though…

It’s not forever, and it’ll give me enough money to actually do something, go somewhere, be…someone. Someoneelse.

“So, her education is the priority?” I question.

“Her reputation is the priority. That’s why you will be with her at all times, tirelessly working to keep what’s left of it intact. You’re…what?” He glances down at my résumé. “Twenty-five. You’re considerably younger than the other guards I tried out. So you’re close enough in age to her you should be able to think like her, and hopefully, get ahead of her to nip destructive behavior in the bud.”

“You mentioned wanting me to start today—”

“Not wanting. Needing. And you did start. You started the moment you accepted. Unfortunately, while we’ve been talking, she’s already got the jump on you.”

After tapping the screen on his computer with some sort of electronic pen, he points it at a TV mounted on the wall to his side, instantly summoning live video feed.

So, they do have one camera on the property.

The gray-and-white image on it is unmistakable—Ever flipping off the camera as she takes a left out of the driveway. In my shirt, but also…in my Bronco.

“Shit.”

“Now’s a good time to make your peace with whatever God you believe in. My daughter’s about to put you through hell.”

One of the landscapers gives me a lift to Munreaux Motorcycles’ headquarters. I tried to think like an immature, nineteen-year-old, spoiled rotten cheerleader, which was about the complete fucking opposite of how I usually think, and came up with this place. She stole my vehicle, and with a top-of-the-line garage at her disposal, she could get anything she wanted done to it, without question, without a wait, and without payment.

Her pushing my Bronco off a cliff did cross my mind but I quickly crossed it off the list of possibilities. As threatening as Ever tried making herself seem, she came across more petty than ruthless.

That’s exactly what I’m hoping for as I charge through the entrance, demanding to know where she is.

“What’s your business with Miss Munreaux?” The woman behind the counter barely even glances at my scar. Of course she notices it. Everybody does. At least she’s professional enough not to fixate on it.

“She brought in my Bronco.”

“For servicing?”

I give a stiff nod, trying not to imagine the engine ripped out, the tires removed, the sound system’s settings all reset. Jesus fuck, not the equalizer. It took me forever to get that shit just right.

“Miss Munreaux was just in here telling me the good news. First place in Florida.” The older woman beams. “But she didn’t say anything about why she was here. I assumed it was…” Her features scrunch together as she appears to mull something over. “I suppose you may be correct about the nature of her visit. I’ll put in some calls and see what we can find out, okay?”

After a couple minutes, she sets the phone down to inform me, straight-faced, that my Bronco’s in the process of getting new paint.

“A paint job?” I almost snort. That’s the best she could come up with? Petty. “What color?”

She claims she doesn’t know, but while pointing me toward which hall to take, her lips press together like she’s trying to keep from smiling.

Fuck.Fuck. So much for that bonus going toward anything useful.

I find the bay with my Bronco already in it, the hood and sides taped up and painted with flames.Pink. Mother. Fucking. Flames.

Not giving a single fuck whose last name is printed on the back of his uniform, I storm inside and confront the asshole with the spray gun. He didn’t seem to caremyname’s the one on the goddamn title of the Bronco he’s currently giving a custom paint job.

“Hey!” I shout over the noise, shaking both my head and hands at him to get him to stop.

His bloodshot eyes meet mine through the goggles he’s wearing and crinkle at the corners as he nods a greeting at me. Is he smiling? With his lips hidden behind the respirator, I can’t tell for sure. Either way, he’s so fucking unconcerned by the sight of me, I have to wonder what Ever told him. That Iwantedpink flames?

Whowantspink flames?

The pink she chose doesn’t necessarily clash against the carbonized gray. The shades actually look good together. It’s just that I don’t fucking like them going together onmyride. I’d never get something so girly or gaudy.

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