Page 9 of Twisted Hearts

“You doing all right?”

It was Jaxon himself, a standup guy who could scare the piss out of most men. Two inches taller than me and built like a beast, the man looked like he ate steel for breakfast and iron for dinner. I liked the guy, but he was tough and mean. In the six weeks I’d been working for him, I had yet to see him smile.

He did grunt in a way once that sounded like he thought something was funny.

I crossed my arms over my chest and scanned the ballroom. “Everything looks good.” As it would. Not only was Jaxon meticulous, but the risk level was relatively low for this event.

“Not your usual scene.”

“I’ll adapt.” I’d figure out how, and I’d do it soon. There was already so much of the South that was different than back home, and it didn’t have a whole lot to do with geography. The people. The stores. The rain fell different, and the smell of fresh air had a different scent. All shit I never would have known had I stayed in Kansas.

And of course, there was the city with its constant noise and traffic. Not that I didn’t go to Kansas City occasionally. I had no problems heading into the city for a ballgame or a date night, but living in a booming urban area had never been something I wanted.

Even now, with the small townhome I’d bought in an HOA that came with tennis and basketball courts, private gym and pool, it didn’t quite fit with the guy I’d always been.

But is that such a bad thing?

“I don’t doubt you will,” Jaxon said and lifted his chin toward another guy on his team. Mason Barnes was as much as Jaxon’s opposite as the moon to the sun. If I hadn’t already seen him take down an asshole weighing over three hundred and fifty pounds while armed to the gills, I wouldn’t think he took anything seriously. But even during that takedown, Mason did it with a smile that would force Chris Hemsworth to lose all his fans if his face ever made the news.

“Charlie called,” Jaxon said, returning his attention to me while simultaneously scanning the reception hall. “She said there were some paparazzi out front a while ago during dinner, hiding, trying to duck in. Would you mind walking the perimeter to make sure they’re gone?”

“Happy to.” The fresh air would do me good.

“Thanks.”

I lifted a hand in a goodbye gesture. Words weren’t needed. Hell, Jaxon spoke as little as possible.

* * *

I wasplenty warm in my tuxedo coat as I walked around the hotel. Back home, they were having an unseasonable burst of freezing weather. My parents were worried about pipes freezing from the blistering cold temps below zero. For me, it was a warm high in the fifties, and even though the sun had long since set and there was a chill in the air, it felt like springtime, not the peak of winter.

It would take some getting used to, and I wasn’t looking forward to the horrendous summers I’d heard so much about. It seemed to be the thing everyone talked about when I mentioned what a great day it was. “Just wait until July,” they would say with a smirk, as if I hadn’t ever experienced humidity or ninety-plus degrees.

I was from Kansas, not Alaska.

Like so much of what I was getting used to, I shook it off and rolled with it. I widened my loop around the building to include the bushes and parking lot, checking to ensure only invited guests were in attendance. I learned before the fundraiser began that the hotel had been closed entirely for this event, which meant there shouldn’t be anyone there without a press badge draped over their neck or an invitation they were supposed to have at every moment.

Fortunately, I didn’t spy any of the reporters or paparazzi Jaxon mentioned.

I made one last lap around, keeping my eyes peeled for anyone who could have slunk closer, hiding to get the perfect shot of any of the professional athletes or high-profile guests inside, and I was walking past the last alley when a flash of movement caught my eyes.

I stopped immediately and turned. Another flash as whoever it was back there turned and paced.

A woman.

Stepping forward into the mostly darkened alley, I glanced to ensure no one was behind me.

A spark of red and a sizzle I shouldn’t have been able to hear from that distance lit the air followed by the scent of cigarette smoke. My nose curled on instinct. I hated smoking, but it was the movements of the woman—pacing back and forth, bringing the cigarette to her lips as her hand trembled—that drove me closer, still keeping enough distance that I wouldn’t appear threatening.

“Ma’am?” I called.

She dropped her cigarette and gasped, freezing in place in the middle of the alley just below an overhead light. It was the only light in the whole area, and it shined down on her like a spotlight.

With how gorgeous she was, she was a star on a stage, demanding all attention on her.

Her shoulders shot back, pushing up her breasts in her thin tank top, and her leggings clung to her skin like she’d just participated in a wet t-shirt contest…and lost. Even with the pale light, I caught the way her hands curled into fists and her gaze darted behind my shoulder.

The cigarette fell to the ground and her hand flew to her chest. “God. You scared me.”

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