Page 5 of Her Guardian
“No, no, little girl,” I say, finding some amusement in her reaction. “You lit it, so you’re going to finish it.”
“Fine,” she mutters, holding it in her fingers and taking a much smaller puff.
I’d put most girls over my knee if they snatched a cigarette out of my mouth like that. Sarah’s lucky she’s best friends with the boss’s new bride.
“And I’m not a little girl!” she adds, shooting me a glare as she releases a tiny puff of smoke from her mouth.
I laugh under my breath. She might not be a little girl, but she’s acting like a brat.
I light a cigarette of my own, pull the SUV out of the casino parking lot, and crawl down the Las Vegas strip. Sarah looks like she’s closer to gagging than talking, so I get a few minutes of peace and quiet.
I can’t believe Massimo is making me look after his wife’s best friend. I used to be a bodyguard, and not just any bodyguard, either. As soon as Emilio and Erica were married, Salvatore picked me to serve as his new daughter-in-law’s bodyguard. It was a position of honor. You don’t get any closer to the top without sitting at the fucking table.
“So, where are you taking me first?” Sarah coughs, taking another tiny draw from her cigarette. “And more important, what kind of stories are you going to tell me? I need really juicy stuff for my podcast.”
“That’s how you make a living?” I chuckle, taking a deep drag and blowing the smoke out the window. “Telling stories on a fucking podcast?”
“I wouldn’t call it a living,” she admits. “But it could be, with the right content. That’s where you come in, Big Boyd.”
“Boyd’s fine,” I rumble.
“Doesn’t everyone call you Big Boyd?” she questions, tilting her head in the most adorable way again.
“No, I tolerateBigBoyd from the people who are too important to correct,” I growl. “You wouldn’t like it if I called youlittleSarah, would you?”
“That’s not the same thing.” Her nose wrinkles. “That’s demeaning. Big Boyd sounds pretty cool.”
“Not when you’ve heard it your entire life,” I grumble.
The playground when I was a kid. Gym class, when I got older. First, it was Big Fat Boyd, but after I trimmed off the baby fat, they dropped the part that really pissed me off. By then, I was big enough to throw them across the damn playground if they didn’t.
“Okay,Boyd,” she relents. “You still didn’t answer my questions.”
“Boss said to show you around and tell you some stories, so that’s what I’m going to do,” I say. “It’ll be the kind of stuff you overhear at Rafferty’s, so don’t get any crazy ideas. I’m not telling you where any of the bodies are buried.”
“You can tell me where the bodies are buried,” she says eagerly—too eagerly. “I won’t use anything that would get you guys in trouble! I’m pretty trustworthy. I haven’t said a word about what happened with Erica.”
My face sours when she mentions Erica’s name. She’s the reason I’ve fallen from grace.
“Better make sure you never do,” I warn. “I know a guy in Ireland who loves to buy pretty blondes who are better off without their tongues.”
Sarah’s face pales for a moment, but she quickly recovers, takes one last drag from her cigarette, and tosses what is left. She didn’t finish it, but I’ll let that slide.
“You have nothing to worry about with me!” she says, taking a big puff from her vape—probably to get rid of the taste in her mouth. “I understand boundaries and I stay inside them.”
“Maybe we have that in common,” I say, taking a few quick drags and tossing my cigarette out the window. “Boundaries are good. I like boundaries.”
“Right, theMafiacode.” She nods sagely, like she understands it.
“You know that’s barely a thing these days, right?” I chuckle. “Not with most families, at least. If you don’t evolve, you get stagnant, and that’s how you get killed by someone who comes up with a better way of doing things.”
“Could I quote you on that?” she asks, her eyes getting adorably wide.
“No,” I snap.
“Then what did you mean by boundaries? I mean, what kind do you have?” she asks, her pretty blue eyes flickering with curiosity.
“Well…” I say, fighting the urge to reach for another smoke. I really do need to quit. “First, nothing I say to you better ever get repeated on a fucking podcast. Yours or any other. Got it, Sarah?”
