The Mogul and the Muscle: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(8)

Derek’s smirk melted off his face. He knew I almost never talked about my time in the CIA.

“I was lucky to be able to tie up all my loose ends and walk away,” I said. “Not a lot of guys like me get to do that. So yeah, I’m going to golf. And work out with your nosy ass. And then I’ll figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life. Maybe I’ll open a food truck.”

He laughed. “It’s a food truck now? What happened to starting a bakery?”

“The numbers don’t really pencil,” I said.

“So you’re sure? No more security jobs.”

“Positive.” I put my hands up and gestured for him to come at me. “That was the last one.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

I lowered my guard. “Why?”

Instead of taking advantage and landing a nice uppercut, he stepped back. “Because I have a friend who could use your help.”

“No.”

“Just hear me out—”

“No.”

“Come on, man, listen first.”

I raised my gloves and stepped closer. “No.”

“Jude—”

I swung and missed on purpose. He wasn’t even trying to defend himself. “Hands up, Price.”

He lifted his gloves, his dark brow furrowing.

We kept trading blows without talking, but that determined expression never left his face. I bobbed and weaved around him, trading swing for swing.

Wordlessly, we finished up. Sweat dripped down my temples and soaked my shirt. We stepped out of the ring and Derek took off his gloves, dropping them in his open duffel bag.

“It’s Emily’s friend,” he said, finally breaking the silence.

I pulled off my gloves and tossed them on top of my bag. Fuck. Emily was Derek’s girlfriend, and she was… well, she was great. Wealthier than God, but she’d worked her ass off for every bit of her success. I wasn’t exactly a have-a-big-group-of-friends kind of guy, but Derek and Emily were a great couple.

And if it was for her friend…

“I already said no, Price.”

“Some guy tried to attack her in the parking garage of her building.”

“That was Emily’s friend? Wasn’t that in the news?”

Derek nodded. “Cameron Whitbury, CEO of Spencer Aeronautics.”

“Was it an isolated incident?” I asked before I could stop myself. Damn it. I wasn’t getting involved. But something about the story was poking at me.

“Not sure. She’s high profile enough for the usual—threats on social media, that sort of thing. But nothing up close and personal like this.”

“Secured parking garage?”

“It is, although not too difficult for a pedestrian to gain access,” he said. “An odd place for a purse snatching, however.”

The location did make me curious. Purse grabbing tended to be a lot like pickpocketing. A crime of opportunity, usually out on the street.

“I’m sure the police are investigating,” I said.

“You know they’re not. They probably spent ten minutes searching the garage to make sure he wasn’t still lurking in a dark corner, took a report, and called it a night.”

I shrugged. “It was probably random.”

“It could have been,” he said. “But maybe it wasn’t. Cameron’s good at taking care of herself. But right now, she could really use personal security. Someone who can make sure she’s safe, and figure out if there’s more behind this than meets the eye.”

I groaned. “No.”

“It’s not a long-term gig,” Derek said. I could tell by the look in his eyes, he knew he had the advantage. “Consider it more seed money for your food truck.”

“I have plenty of money.”

“Look, I know there are other security companies out there who could handle this. You’re massively overqualified. But she’s Emily’s friend. Hell, she’s my friend too. I don’t like trusting this to just anyone.”

Goddammit. This was how it always happened. I’d say no, but they’d keep talking. And next thing I knew…

“Fine,” I grumbled, crouching down to put my shit in my bag. “But only temporarily. If she needs long-term, she can find someone else. I don’t do this kind of thing anymore.”

“Absolutely,” he said. “Consider it a personal favor to me, not a regular job.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Thanks, man. This is going to make Emily feel so much better.”

I glowered at him.

He smiled, ignoring my irritated glare. “I’ll text you the details.”

Derek left—he was a smart man who knew when to make an exit—and I gathered up my stuff to head home. His text came through before I’d even left the building. I rolled my eyes and walked out to my bike. Apparently I had to work tomorrow.





4





Jude





Pausing on the sidewalk, I looked up at the glass office building. It reminded me of a safe house I’d used a few times in Prague. Unremarkable from the outside, just another high-rise with people in business attire coming and going.

I’d decided to stop beating myself up for taking yet another job when I kept saying each one was the last. This wasn’t even a job, really. It was a favor. Totally different thing.