There was a knock on the door.
A man named Pablo showed up with a suitcase full of clothes, suits, shoes, everything I needed and things I most likely wouldn’t ever wear. They were all packed neatly waiting to be used. He handed me an envelope with a letter from Martinez and then a briefcase. The letter stated that everything I needed was in the briefcase, including a business debit card that I had to use for everything. It already had twelve thousand dollars on it. He called it back pay for the last three months for protecting Briggs. He went on to say he would be paying me a thousand dollars a week on that card for my services of being her bodyguard.
All I kept thinking was that I would have continued doing it for free.
I opened the briefcase and found two passports, and the business credit card he mentioned before. There was some other shit in there that I wasn’t sure what to do with. What caught my attention though were the two 9mm guns. One was secured in a black leather suspender holster and the other in what seemed like an ankle holster. Both guns had permits that matched the names on the passports in the briefcase. Luckily, I knew how to use a gun.
Most Southern boys do.
Everything in that briefcase was a lie. Every last document was fake but looked so fucking authentic. So fucking real. There wasn’t a chance in Hell anyone would spot them as fakes.
Briggs was so fucking happy. So, I didn’t think twice about it, I started working for Martinez because all I wanted to do.
Was keep her safe.
From that point on out we only stayed at five-star hotels. Partying with some of the richest, most corrupt people in the world and I was having the time of my life. Working for Martinez came with instant respect, money, power, everything I never had before.
But always wanted.
All of it was new and exciting. I didn't give my new job a second thought. All the luxuries outweighed the fact that I was working for a drug lord.
Although Briggs called it organized crime, she said Martinez was involved in everything and anything. It wasn’t just about the drugs. That what we worked in it was just an aspect of what he ran and controlled.
A new briefcase was waiting for me at each new location we traveled to, sometimes it would be in the limo that picked us up from the airports and other times it would be waiting for me in our room. Out with the old, in with the new every goddamn time. New clothes, new documents, new passports, new guns with permits, everything we needed without batting a fucking eye.
Each day was a new day with Briggs by my side.
Life couldn’t have been better.
We were lying on the bed with our legs entwined, our bodies next to each other, watching a movie in the hotel. I kept blowing raspberries on her neck, she was thrashing around like crazy, shrieking from the pleasure and pain it brought her.
She loved it.
She just loved to pretend like she didn’t.
“Austin! Stop!” She laughed uncontrollably.
Desperately trying to hold back my face, knowing it didn’t matter. I would stop when I wanted to.
And I didn’t want to.
She sideswiped my arms and was tickling under my chin and around my neck before I even saw it coming.
“Ohhhh, little girl, that’s a way to get hurt,” I threatened, grabbing her arms and locking them above her head.
I hated my neck being touched, too many years of being tortured as a child by my family members thinking it was funny to tickle my neck for entertainment.
My body was now on top of hers and I saw it immediately. Her eyes glazed over and her pupils dilated. Revealing the look of lust that I had grown so accustom to.
It had been five months since I left with her and all we did was talk, cuddle, and flirt relentlessly with each other. I couldn’t remember the last time I went this long without having sex, and yet it didn’t fucking bother me. Not one bit. What Briggs and I shared was deeper than any piece of * could ever offer me. Not that I didn’t want to bury my cock deep inside her.
She was everything.
She bit her lip, waiting for what I was going to do next. I hadn’t kissed her since the night on her balcony. That one kiss was all I had to hold me over.
“What’s your name?” I rasped, feeling the effect she always had on me.
I’d probably asked her like fifty times up until that point and each time she changed the subject or she would blatantly lie to me and say “Briggs.”
As the months went by, I learned more and more about her. How she would bite her lip when she was nervous, like she was doing right now. How she would never leave the hotel without wearing makeup, her hair was always down and flowing around her face. How the clothes she wore were always revealing, but it wasn’t because she wanted to show off her body.
It was the tattoos.