Page 87 of Her Guardian
“You don’t have to worry about counting cards for money while you’re with me,” I say, leading her toward the exit.
“I don’t need to do that anyway, thanks to the new sponsors I got for my podcast,” she says, following behind me. “But if there are no new developments about the Mafia Prince Killer soon, I’m going to have to start a new series with those stories you told me or I’m going to lose a lot of listeners.”
“We can work on it together,” I suggest.
“Oh, wait, speaking of, let me grab a newspaper,” Sarah says, turning away from me.
“Why?” I ask, raising a brow.
“I was reading a story last night while you were talking to Massimo,” she says. “Something about missing tourists in Las Vegas. Since I’m here, maybe I can do a podcast about that, too.”
“Missing tourists.” I shrug. “Happens all the time here. Sometimes they don’t want to be found.”
“Still makes for a good headline,” she calls back as she steps into the concierge area. “And headlines are content!”
I sigh and wait for her to return. I’m learning way more than I ever wanted to about the world of podcasting. True crime podcasting, at least. Hard to believe anyone other than reporters make a living talking about the shit we do. I guess it hasn’t been much of a living for Sarah recently, but her podcast seems to be doing better since I handed her a couple of exclusives.
“Got it. They had to dig it out of the trash.” She holds the newspaper up and examines it. “Still looks okay.”
“Glad you got some reading material,” I rumble. “But since I don’t have shit to do today, I’m taking you straight back to my place after we get something to eat.”
“Oh, really?” She grins, moving closer to me. “Got plans for me?”
“Damn right I do,” I growl, slapping her ass.
“I was going to do another podcast today, but I guess that can wait,” she says, rubbing the seat of her jeans. “As long as you make it worth my while.”
“You can count on it,” I chuckle, pulling her toward the exit.
She might not have much time for podcasting while she’s living with me.
Especially if I stay on the sidelines.
I don’t mind it as much as I used to.
CHAPTER 33
Boyd
Sarah gets settled in at my place.
I remind myself it’s temporary. I’ve made her mine. I don’t want her to leave. But I’m realistic. This is still new. She isn’t ready to fully give in, no matter how we feel in the moment.
A day passes. Then another. The next thing I know, she’s spent two weeks in my bed. I love waking up next to her. Love the way her eyes open, all dazed and gorgeous. Even love the way they light up when she sees me for the first time every day.
But everything else is a mess. The Mafia Prince Killer has stayed silent. Things are tense, not just with the Morandi family, but with everyone we do business with. I can’t blame them. There’s a good chance one of them will be next, whenever the fucker decides to strike again. Some have taken it a step further and moved their families out of Las Vegas. Can’t blame them for that, either.
Massimo gives me various assignments, but nothing major. I take care of them easily, eager to get home to Sarah. I’ve never been theeager-to-get-hometype. It’s a completely new feeling for me, but I like it. Almost as much as I like the girl I get to go home to.
That’s where I’m headed right now. I stare at the elevator doors until they open, then quickly walk to my front door, swiping my keycard. I’m later than usual. It’s already dark, so dinner will likely be waiting for me. I hope it’s not a salad.
I catch a whiff of cranberry apple as soon as I open the door, but it isn’t food. It’s the latest taste on Sarah’s soft lips when I kiss them. I guess mine taste like watermelon now. Better than cigarettes, I suppose. Traded one vice for another, but I can already tell it’s making a difference.
“There she is, looking all Sarah pretty,” I laugh when I walk into the dining area and see Sarah sitting at the table, hunched over her laptop.
“Boyd!” she says, hopping up. “I was so focused I didn’t hear the door. Oh, crap, I was supposed to start dinner.”
“Fuck it, we can order something,” I scoff, walking over and kissing her before she can object.
