The Bodyguard: A BWWM Bad Body Romance(35)
The taller man shot Hank a scathing glare before sauntering to the kitchen to do as he was told. Juliet, meanwhile, sank down onto the couch across from Hank, her gaze never leaving his injury. He’d only gone in once. What possibly could have happened? Had they figured him out that quickly? “What happened?” She asked again, firmer this time.
Hank didn’t answer until Bosh handed him a frosty Coors bottle and he had chugged half its contents. When he pressed the cold glass to the side of his head, he winced. “Nothing happened,” he finally revealed on a grunt. “Just a little proving match.”
“Proving match?” Juliet looked from Hank to Simmons and then back again. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing too terribly dangerous,” Simmons sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned against a nearby wall. “They wanted to test his mettle, and they tested it.”
“By beating the crap out of him?” Juliet returned incredulously. “Just for being at the club?”
“Not just for being at the club.” Hank took another, shorter drag of his beer. “I made a little trouble. Made sure to get myself noticed.”
“You started a fight on purpose.” Juliet deadpanned. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“To prove I’m a mean motherfucker.” Hank leaned back. “Solomon likes mean motherfuckers. He’ll find me soon enough.”
Juliet opened her mouth, then shut it, trying to decide how to respond. While it was true that Solomon did look for henchmen with more brawn and less brains, she wasn’t sure if starting a brawl to get his attention was necessarily the best idea.
“Some new information has hit the streets in the past few days,” Simmons spoke lowly, filling in the gaps for Juliet. “Apparently, Solomon and his father have parted ways. They’re not necessarily against each other, but Solomon’s out to edge into the market himself.”
Juliet sucked in a sharp breath. She’d always known something like this was coming. It looked as though Solomon and Caesar’s already tenuous father-son relationship hadn’t withstood this most recent attack. “If they’re not against each other now, they will be soon.” She pressed her hands together, as she stared at her knuckles. Meals with Solomon and Caesar at the same table had always been like sitting on top of a powder keg that was about to explode. “Solomon’s had it out for his father for as long as I can remember.”
“Makes sense.” Simmons returned thoughtfully, scratching at the stubble starting to come in on his chin. “He might be gearing up to take him out as we speak….which means Hank’s move might have been the right one.”
Right. Hank was trying to get himself recruited into Solomon’s inner circle so he could kill his father and take over his drug empire. If Juliet hadn’t been immersed in this dangerous world herself for a few years, this all would have sounded totally and completely outlandish to her. Instead, she realized just how much Hank was risking.
“Are we sure no one knows who he is?” She shifted anxiously in her chair before looking to Simmons. “If he’s discovered...well, Solomon doesn’t think much of mercy.”
Hank exhaled a long breath, lowering his bottle to drain the last of the beer inside before he fixed her with his dark gaze. “This ain’t my first rodeo, honey. It’s safe enough. I wouldn’t be putting my ass on the line if I thought I was walking into a trap this early in the game.”
He sounded confident enough, but Juliet found herself struggling against an undeniable sense of unease. Of course, she had never gone undercover before, so she wasn’t sure how all of this worked, but to see Hank all beat up as a result of going after Solomon only preliminarily was enough to turn her stomach.
But she knew better than to say anything else. It was impossible to make an omelet without breaking a few eggs - even if she’d prefer those eggs weren’t Hank’s skull.
“I’ll leave you to get some rest.” Simmons nodded in Hank’s direction, “Crowley and Bosh will take their posts outside. You’re sure you’re alright for this?”
Hank cast him an exasperated look. “I’ve had colds that felt worse than this. Get the hell out, Simmons.”
The elder man smirked slightly before bidding goodbye to Juliet and leaving the cabin with Bosh and Crowley in his wake. Within minutes, only Juliet and Hank remained in the room.
The young woman swallowed thickly, doing her best to take her mind from the song she’d just been writing. She knew she didn’t really have any reason to linger - she’d told herself that she just wanted to make sure Hank made it back alright and then she’d scurry back to her room. She hadn’t, Juliet realized, even changed out of her ratty shorts or brushed her hair. After years of being punished for being anything less than perfectly coiffed, she’d reveled in lounging around as she pleased.
At least, she had until that particular moment. The only man who had ever given her an orgasm was sitting across from her and she probably looked like shit warmed over.
“I’ll, um, leave you alone to chill for a while.” She rose quickly, hoping her embarrassment didn’t show on her face. She shouldn’t have come out to greet him - protocol be damned. She could only imagine how desperate this made her look.
“You don’t have to go anywhere.” Hank uttered the words so low that, for a moment, Juliet was certain she’d heard him wrong. She was almost out of the room when he spoke and she paused in the doorway, turning to gaze at him warily.