Playing Dirty

Was it just another weirdo in a city full of them? Leo Shea and his threat to Ryker drifted through my mind. Maybe it hadn’t been just a random act of violence yesterday when I’d been pushed in front of that truck.

I looked away, but kept tabs on him, breathing a sigh of relief when he remained at his table after Megan and I rose to leave. After yesterday, maybe I was seeing things that weren’t really there.

We walked back to the office together and today I stayed well away from the curb. Megan did, too. She’d freaked when I’d told her what had happened yesterday, hugging me for a really long time, and she’d had tears in her eyes when she’d let me go.

The rest of the day passed without incident, thank goodness. Parker had been stopping by my desk more often than usual today, making me suspicious that he was using it as an excuse to check up on me, though he never said as much. He hadn’t seemed a bit surprised to see me this morning, even after he’d offered me the day off.

“My tailor’s coming by around six,” he said one of these times. “Could you stick around and give me your opinion?”

This wasn’t a new thing. Parker spent enough on his wardrobe that the tailor came to him rather than the other way around, and when he did, Parker always asked me to stay and provide a feminine voice as to his choices. I never minded. Secretly, I enjoyed it. What wasn’t to enjoy? I got to see a gorgeous man modeling high-end suits and sport coats, then asking me what I thought. It never seemed like actual work to me.

But tonight was my rescheduled dinner date with Ryker. After the awful dinner with my parents, then the mini-fight we’d gotten in when he’d cancelled the first date, it seemed like a bad idea to have to tell him I needed to stay late for work.

“Um, let me check,” I said to Parker, stalling. He raised an eyebrow in question. “Ryker and I had planned dinner for tonight.”

“Ah,” he said. “Then by all means, don’t let me keep you.” He gave me his signature bland half-smile that gave away nothing that he was thinking, then disappeared back into his office.

I swallowed my disappointment. I was doing the right thing. It probably wasn’t that professional anyway to help your boss pick out his wardrobe. And lord knew I wouldn’t be thinking professional thoughts. Best not to let temptation get in the way.

Ryker had texted and said he’d pick me up from work to head to dinner, so I met him outside. Even after four months, I still got a shiver of excitement when he pulled up on his motorcycle. With his black leather jacket, jeans, heavy boots, and aviators, he looked like every woman’s wet dream and every father’s nightmare.

“Hop on, babe.”

Alrighty then.

I’d learned to pack a pair of jeans when I went to work for just such occasions as this. My skirt was neatly folded and packed in my oversize Tory Burch knockoff so I could straddle the bike behind Ryker. I wrapped my arms around his chest, adjusting my purse as I did so, and that’s when I saw him.

The same guy from lunch.

He was standing on the sidewalk, maybe twenty feet away, and was lighting a cigarette. I watched as he cupped his hand around the end to shield the flame from the wind, then he pocketed his lighter and took a long drag. His gaze shifted to me and Ryker, then the corner of his mouth lifted in a satisfied smirk.

Before I had a chance to say anything to Ryker, he was pulling out into traffic and we were flying down the street. I twisted to look behind us and sure enough, the guy watched until we were out of sight.

*

“So that’s weird, right?” I asked Ryker as I took a sip of my cocktail. The bartender had given me a blank look when I’d asked for Absolut Mandarin (my favorite flavor of vodka), so I’d smiled and said whatever he had that was Top Shelf would be fine.

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” Ryker asked, taking a swig from his beer bottle.

“I didn’t have time. We were already leaving when I realized it was the same guy.”

We were sitting at the bar in a bar & grill–type restaurant downtown. It was a little more bar than grill, but who was complaining? It was dinner out with my man so I shut my trap and kept my opinions about the overly juiced Cosmo with a sadly lacking Top Shelf vodka to myself.

“You think maybe it was just a weird coincidence?” I asked, hoping the answer was yes.

“I don’t think you’d be that lucky,” he said grimly.

Yeah. Me neither.

“So what do I do?” I asked. “What if I see him again?”

“Don’t go anywhere alone,” he said. “And if he approaches you, run in the other direction screaming bloody murder.”

I frowned. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Noise helps scare off an attacker,” he explained. “They’d much rather a quiet and compliant victim than a noisy pain in the ass one.”

I could totally do noisy pain in the ass.

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