Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys #4)

“Shit happens. Come on.”


I sped the entire way there, knocking off fifteen minutes of our drive time. By the look on Briggs’ face, she was grateful for the small miracle I just pulled off. I opened the door stepping out of the car, but she caught my arm stopping me.

“What?” I asked, taken aback.

“The man we’re about to see, Austin, he’s different, okay? He’s not like what you’re used to seeing.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Just that, I’ve met him a few times. Which is why he won’t have his bodyguards beside him. So… keep that in mind, okay?”

“Baby, I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, but I’m not going to let any motherfucker talk—”

“I know, Austin. That’s why I’m telling you all this. He’s not just anyone. He’s a friend, okay? Behave yourself and keep your emotions in check.”

“I thought you didn’t have any friends besides me.”

“Not mine,” she simply stated.

I nodded, understanding. She meant it was Martinez’s friend. She kissed me, giving me a loving look before exiting the car.

I lit a cigarette, suddenly fucking pissed that I didn’t know what I was walking into.

Over the last two years, we had been all over South America. We never stayed in one-place longer than two weeks tops. Briggs said it was safer that way. She literally sat down and met with the business associates, while I stood in the back watching. Always with one hand behind my back on my gun, prepared and waiting for one of these fuckers to make a wrong move.

Sometimes it was one guy, sometimes up to four.

I had gotten used to standing in the background, watching their mannerisms, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Picking up sentences here and there, since they usually spoke Spanish. I hadn’t met or talked to Martinez yet. Briggs said that was a good thing, it meant we were doing a good job. She barely even talked to him herself, so I guess it wasn’t just me. Briggs really did know how to take care of herself and handle business. None of the men she encountered ever disrespected her either.

At first it was surprising, especially since she was a woman. It was almost like they were scared of her because they had to be. I just summed it up to them fearing Martinez and they knew she worked for him.

Don’t fuck with the hand that feeds you and all that bullshit.

“You’re late,” a man dressed in a pinstripe suit announced when we walked into the warehouse.

He was a fat fuck with balding gray hair and wrinkled skin. If I had to guess, I’d say he was in his late fifties or early sixties.

There was a long narrow table in the middle of the room. Chairs surrounded each edge even though it was only him in the vacant, empty building. Though I was more caught off guard that he was speaking English. That rarely happened in these meetings.

“I know… I’m sorry. We got—”

“Y este pendejo quien es?” He nodded toward me. I think he was asking Briggs who I was as soon as she sat down.

She didn’t turn around to follow his gaze. She knew he was referring to me.

Already I didn’t fucking like him.

“He’s my bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard?” he scoffed out the word, leaning back against his chair. His hands firmly placed on the table in front of him.

“Martinez is having a woman shuffling his deals now? I guess it does make sense that you would have a strong man behind you,” he sneered with a strong Spanish accent.

I resisted the urge to tell him to go fuck himself. Instead, I stood there with one hand on my gun and the other clenched in a fist at my side.

Briggs smiled, leaning back in her own chair. “Says the man who has four.”

He cocked an eyebrow, and I recognized the predatory look on his face. He wanted to fuck her, and I wanted to make him eat own his goddamn cock.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty, peladita.”

“I’m not here for you to whisper sweeting nothings in my ear.”

“Just like Martinez. All work and no play. Must run in the family.”

Family?

She sidestepped his comment not paying it any mind.

“My bodyguards aren’t here. Mira?” he said in Spanish, looking all around the warehouse, gesturing with his hands. “Your superman can leave now.”

“Hector—”

“There’s not a chance in Hell I’m fucking leaving her alone with you,” I interrupted, unable to control myself.

I hated the way he was looking at her, and I hated it even more that she was letting it happen.

“Pretty boy, can talk too? If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll shut his goddamn mouth and let us handle some business. That’s why we are here, right?”

I stepped toward him. Briggs immediately put her hand out in the air stopping me, even though she was several feet away. Her eyes never shifted from his face.

“I’m here to handle business. He’s not leaving. You want to make a deal? You make it with him in the room, or I walk too.”

M. Robinson's books