Page 20 of Unwrapped

“What the fuck, Claudia? I’m no pervert.”

“I know. But still. The state will dig deep and you have enemies.”

I snort. “No one gives two shits about the girl. She’s in the system getting bullied and is barely eating. I’m ready to give her the world and I’m the suspect? This shit is fucked up and exactly why I need to get her out of there. If Blackwood tries to get in the way of this, I’ll bury him,” I growl so loud, heads turn. “There’s no chance I can get her by Christmas is there?” I ask softer.

“No.”

“I figured. Fuck. I guess it’s time to phone a friend.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Thank you, Claudia. You’ve done well. Merry Christmas and all that bullshit.” I gesture with my hand even though she can’t see it.

My eyes narrow, following the tapping if her nails on the counter. They’re the color of a Christmas bow. Red Satin. I really hate this chic now. “Excuse me.” Using my broad shoulders to bump her a few inches out of the way. “I was here first. The Yeti will have to wait.”

She gasps.

The balding man across the counter’s eyes bulge from the other side of his thick glasses.

“Did…did you just call me aYeti?”

My cool gaze takes her in. From the tips of her fur lined boots to the top of her chestnut hair tucked into a messy bun at the top of her head. I can’t see her eyes that hide behind oversized black lenses. Maybe she drank too much on the plane. Her body is tight with curves in just the right places, but from my impassive poker face you’d think I was looking over produce at the supermarket. “My bad. Miss Sasquatch over here will have to wait. Reservation is under Prescott.”

Honey cakes tried to shoulder me out of the way but ends up bouncing off me. Looking down my nose at her, I pick pieces of white fur off my Tom Ford peacoat.

“You’re shedding.” I deadpan before, tapping my long fingers in the counter.

“You’ve got some nerve.”

“No actually, you do. The world doesn’t revolve around you, sweetheart. Wait your turn. Women like you always think they can skip the line.” She’s so much liked the woman I dumped two days ago.

“Women like me?”

Her index finger pokes me in the chest, “Arrogant, businessman like you are the ones who run people right over in their haste to make a buck. Chill. Your deal will wait. I was almost done.” She grabs a pen and signs her name on the paper sitting on the counter. The worker hands her a fob key.

I roll my eyes at her. “Damn. You’ve got a lot of baggage, sweetheart. Too much for any man to carry,” I smirk as she only rolls one medium size suitcase.

“Asshole,” she mutters walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” I call after her, just to be a jerk.

An hour or so later, I’m cursing Christmas. Snow. And the lousy icy mic covering the road. I should’ve had one of the guys from the MC pick me up. But my stubborn ass pride wouldn’t let me. They already call me “pretty boy.” And call me a bunch of pussy ass nicknames since I’m one of the few with a college degree coupled with a high-powered job behind a desk.

Shit. I bite the inside of my cheek picturing the look on Rog or Smith’s face if I end up in a snowbank and need them to get me out.

One look at the sorry as shit car waiting for me at the airport rental and the nerve under my right eye started to twitch. I opened up my Italian leather wallet, took at out black AMEX card and asked for the most expensive SUV on the lot not even blinking at the price it was to rent per day. But then I was informed Ms. Line jumper took it. Right before me. I settled for a pickup, knowing the empty bed in the back would make shit slip so I stopped off at Agway and piled it high with bags of road salt to give the truck some weight. I glance at the clock knowing I’ve put off the call I need to make long enough. Tine is something Freddie doesn’t have. I need to get the girl out of the system before she turns from a girl to a teenage girl growing curves and shit the pervs won’t hesitate to put their hands on. My fingers clench the wheel. If I’m too late and some fuck already has—I’ll fucking skin them alive. The girl provokes a protective instinct in me. Her eyes were so full of both jaded edges but yet innocence was there too.

After enabling the Bluetooth, I call the last man on earth I want to ask for help. But he fucking rules the underworld of Chicago a place where Freddie needs help.

“Dare?”

“No. It wasn’t a butt dial. I meant to call,” I sigh.

“Do we have a problem?”

I take one hand off the wheel and pinch the bridge of my nose.”

“No. I need a favor.”

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