Close Cover (Masters and Mercenaries #16)(9)

Nope. She had to think positive. This was going to work. She would bartend at night and look for a company that didn’t mind hiring a known whistle-blower during the day. She would get back on her feet.

Lisa straightened the pretty Chanel blouse Bridget had given to her after she’d declared she would never fit into it again. The truth was Bridget was wildly successful and enjoyed changing out her wardrobe on a regular basis. Luckily she was just the tiniest bit smaller than her sister-in-law when it came to clothes, and they were a perfect fit on shoes, so Lisa had a steady diet of gorgeous designer clothes she could never, ever afford.

Okay. She could do this. Professional makeup. Check. Résumé in Kate Spade bag. Check. Shoes that were supposed to make her feel strong and powerful. Check. Pepper spray within reach and at full strength. Check and check.

I am a strong, independent woman. Nothing can bring me down except me.

And maybe an asswipe criminal who liked to clean other people’s money. She nodded to the woman in the mirror and turned to her door. She was doing this. No more being afraid. No more pretending something better was coming around tomorrow. She made her destiny. She asked for what she wanted.

Her bag securely on her shoulder, she stepped outside. Maybe she should change her shoes. The five-inch Louboutins looked sexy as hell, but she had to walk quite a distance. Maybe she could feel powerful and invincible in sneakers. She was just about to change her mind when she walked right into a hard-muscled back.

She practically jumped away as she collided with the man carrying one half of a leather sofa. Somehow she managed to stay on her feet. “I’m so sorry.”

It looked like 4C was getting filled quickly. Dayna and Jim Ball had only moved out two days before, but here was another neighbor to welcome to the building. Or not welcome, since it wasn’t like it was a friendly place. She’d lived across the hall from the Balls for two years and had barely known the couple beyond their names and the fact that the wife didn’t mind leaving her delicates hanging all over the laundry room waiting for any pervert to come and steal.

Or maybe this was a worker. A mover, perhaps, since he was made of muscles. Lots of sexy, masculine muscles.

“You all right?” a deep voice asked.

A deep voice with a ridiculously sexy Cajun accent that went straight from her ear down to her traitorous pussy. She heard lots of the Doms at Sanctum joke about how dumb their dicks were, but she was fairly certain her pussy could beat them all.

And that man was going to turn around and not be Master Remy. Nope. They were in Dallas and that was close enough to Louisiana that there could be another bayou boy here. It was some other gorgeous Cajun god of a man standing in her hallway, one she hadn’t hit on and gotten rejected by, one she hadn’t made a complete fool of herself over. It was another beautiful man. She would make a joke about the collision with him and then never, ever speak with again.

She’d learned her lesson and didn’t want to take Being Humiliated by Remy Guidry 101 again. Her A had been well earned.

“I’m fine. Didn’t even fall. Welcome to the building.” It was best to retreat now. Whoever it was—not Master Remy, not Master Remy—he was obviously busy, and she had things to do, too. It was way too late to change her shoes. They were good shoes. Bridget swore by them. She had to go get her strip-club job before some other sad-sack, couldn’t-get-another-job woman took it from her.

She started to turn and then heard a heavy thud.

“Lisa? Lisa Daley?”

Run, Lisa, run. That was the smart part of her screaming in her head. Dump the shoes right here and now because they will hold you back. Dump them and run like a gazelle evading a hungry lion. The polite part of her stopped.

She slowly turned, forcing a smile on her face. “Mr. Guidry? What a surprise to see you here.”

Yep, that was Remy Guidry. He was six-foot-five-inches of pure muscle. His hair was dark and she remembered when it used to flow around his face, brushing his shoulders when he would take it down before a hot scene. She’d been like a groupie, following all of his scenes, waiting for that moment when his hair would come down and she would pretend like she was the submissive he was about to put in bondage and suspend. A few months before he’d cut it, like seriously cut it. He’d been out of town for a few weeks and when he’d come back he’d had that military look. The new buzz cut had grown out a bit, but she’d been surprised to see how cutting his hair had made him even more masculine, the stark, gorgeous lines of his face no longer softened by the hair. Now he wore a muscle shirt, jeans, and boots, and there was zero chance of missing the way those shoulders moved, how strong his arms were.

His sensual lips curled up as though he could read her mind, and every thought she sent his way made him the tiniest bit more arrogant. And he was arrogant enough before. “Yes, this certainly is a surprise. You visiting someone here?”

She should say yes and then move out tonight. Pack everything up and run. Unfortunately, that would mean moving in with her married brother or sister and disrupting their lives, or with Lila and murdering her boyfriend. If only she had a car… Homelessness had never been more appealing. “No, I live here. 4B. Home sweet home. I suppose you’re helping to move a friend in.”

Someone had to have been holding the other half of that couch. Maybe she was going to get lucky and this was just one bro helping another. No big deal. They weren’t even particularly good friends, so he wouldn’t be around much. Maybe he’d lost a bet and he didn’t even like the person who was moving here. She could live with that.