I’ve been staring at the blank screen of my cell phone for ten minutes. Trying to decide whether or not I’m going to call Roman, the police, or no one at all. There’s a dark blue Honda sedan parked directly across the street from my apartment building. Facing my living room window. The car has tinted windows, the lights are off, and it’s been in the same exact space all day for three whole days.

Sometimes I see the silhouette of a man sitting inside. Sometimes the car is empty. I never really get a good look at the guy getting in or out, but if I had to guess, the jackass is purposely trying to spook me.

My bosses are partners in a company that provides a very specialized service for rich bastards who can afford to pay them to clean up messy situations. I help them do that in whatever way they need me to. They usually try to tie up loose ends when we do a “fix” for a client, but there have been a few things that may have fallen through the cracks here and there, and the owner of this blue Honda parked across from my place may just be one of those things that has fallen through the cracks.

A disgruntled customer perhaps?

Yet somehow I think if there was an axe to grind or revenge to be had against us, someone would be smart enough to go after the weakest link in our circle—Roman’s cousin Elizabeth. You fuck with her and all hell will break loose. Fuck with me? Not so much.

If I was actually following protocol, I should have already told one of the guys about the Honda, but I’m not actually that worried about the car—I’m just curious. That’s why I took the day off. I’m going to do a little of my own detective work today, and find out who the hell is in this car, so I can get some actual sleep.

What does this guy want?

Is he planning to break in?

Beat me up?

Am I even on his radar, or am I being paranoid?

Maybe this isn’t connected to my job at all. Maybe he’s watching another apartment. Maybe he isn’t watching anyone at all. Hell, for all I know he could be living in that Honda. I could be starting trouble for a homeless man. It’s very possible that I’m being over suspicious, because I’ve been working for those three crazies entirely too long.

I took the day off to figure this thing out myself. No need to bother anyone else. Especially Roman. He’s got a million things on his plate right now since the engagement and baby news, and there’s no need to involve the police, because they wouldn’t do much of anything until the guy actually tries to kill me, or something.

Maybe a little exercise will get my mind off of things. It’s four o’clock anyway. Close to the time for me to meet my trainer at the gym. After Ryan puts me through an excruciating hour of lunges, squats and a few other bootcamp-like drills, I run for twenty minutes on the treadmill, and then head home after I get a call from Roman.

“Hey, what’s up?” I answer the phone a little too enthusiastically. Hoping he has something for me to do. This day off was a waste of time.

“You bored already?”

“Nope.”

“Liar.”

“Do you actually need something?”

“Well I ain’t calling to swap green drink recipes or talk shit about men.”

“That’s not all I talk about, jackass.”

“I need you to make a run.”

Thank God. A reason to stop driving myself crazy with this Honda business.

“Where?”

“I need you to grab a couple of things for me at the mall. I’ll text you a list and the stores that they’re at.”

“The mall?!”

I hate the mall, and so does Roman. The only thing he could possibly want there would be shit for his fiancée. I pop the wad of gum in my mouth loudly a few extra times, because I know it gets on his nerves, and because this isn’t the type of “run” I was hoping for.

“You actually think I’m your personal assistant don’t you?”

“Yes the hell I do, because you are.”

“I’m not her assistant.”

“You’re right, you’re mine, and if I ask you to go to the mall, then you go to the mall.”

“I don’t do grunt work.”

“We’ve been over this ad nauseam. I’d be totally interested in hearing what exactly you think your job title and description are if it ain’t to do whatever the fuck I tell you to do.”

This type of banter has always been part of my relationship with Roman and the King brothers. We’re friends first, close friends, but they’re also my employers. So I try my best never to cross a line with them, but it’s difficult sometimes. The lines can get blurry. Especially because they all have such strong personalities, and I’m a woman who’s never going to act like some meek little assistant without a brain or an opinion. That’s just not who I am.

“Slave would be a more accurate title,” I deadpan.

“Slave’s don’t get wages.”

“You’re always throwing your money in my face, rich boy.”

“Yet you seem to cash the checks every single damn week.”

“Whatever. Just text me what I need to get. It better not be thongs or something gross for your cousin. Oops I mean … fiancée.”

“You’re cruising for a bruising.”

“Cruising for a bruising? Gah!” I laugh out loud. “My nana use to say that, old man, and that was a hundred years ago.”

“One more thing, Jade.”

“What else?”

“This is going to be your last personal run for me for awhile. We need you to take the reins over at Lotus until we get a handle on this Miami job.”

“What?”

I can’t believe it. That freaking Camden.

“Just for a month or two. Three months tops.”

“How convenient.”

“What are you talking about?”

He’s playing stupid.

“Will today count as day one?” I ask calling his bluff.

“If Cam says it does, then it does.”

I knew it.

“So he’s in charge now?”

“The Kings and I run a partnership. This isn’t like Masterson & Associates where we all worked for Joseph, and I was the heir apparent. It’s different now. We make decisions equally. If he says we need you at the club, then we need you at the club. If Cutter said that he needed your help with Mendez, then you’d probably be helping him with Mendez. Is there a problem?”

Why is he playing this game with me? I know he’s suspected for the longest time that something happened between me and Camden. Hell, Cam may have even told him. I don’t know what those blockheads talk about when they’re out on Roman’s boat fishing and drinking.

“Roman,” I whine. “I don’t want to be stuck inside of that club all day everyday. I’m there enough as it is. I’m going to kill somebody, if I don’t feel the sun on my skin on a daily basis.”

“Kill somebody in particular I bet.” He chuckles.

How can the two of them be so shamelessly in cahoots with each other?

“First you send me on an errand for your cousin, and now you want to stick me in a dark office all day with the King brothers. What have I ever done to you to deserve this treatment?”

“I think what you meant to say is that I’m sending you on an errand for my fiancée and the future mother of my child, and that I’m giving you the honor and privilege of running the hottest club in the city.”

I pull the phone back from my face, look at it, and roll my eyes.

“See how I reframed that?” he asks loud enough for me to still hear.

“Bastard.”

“Hanging up now, munchkin,” he says with an irritatingly chipper voice. “Will send you that text shortly.”

Watching Roman fall in love has probably been one of the funniest and most ridiculous things I’ve ever witnessed, and it’s changed him. I mean who in their right mind falls in love with their cousin? Okay—step cousin or cousin by marriage but whatever. She’s more family to him than I am, and I would never sleep with him. I mean he’s hot and all, but ewww, that’s just a line I would never cross. Of course that’s the same thing I would have sworn about Camden a few months ago, and now look at me. Stuck working with him for thirty days, so that he can attempt to get inside of my panties again. As if I’d ever be that stupid a second time.

After I shower to rid myself of the bad juju that’s clearly following me around, I get a call from Camden which makes me seriously consider the magnitude of what I’m going to be dealing with over the next thirty days of my life.

A man that’s always in my business.

Always watching me.

Terribly judgmental.

Extremely overprotective.

And I suppose that I should add that he’s also ridiculously sexy.

Even before sleeping with him, there was no denying it. Out of my three employers, Camden King has been the most blessed with all of God’s good intentions: body, brains, and badass swagger.

“Hey, itty bitty.”

“What’s up, King Kong?”

“Heard you’re taking a mall run.”

“Did your boyfriend tell you that, or are you tapping my phone calls now?”

Camden is a technical genius with an extremely curious nature. I wouldn’t put it past him and his stalkerish tendencies to have tapped all of our cell phones (for our own good of course); although I wish he’d use his superpowers for good, like breaking into the TransUnion or Equifax’s servers and fixing my shitty credit report.

“Funny.”

I place Camden on speakerphone, so I can multitask. I’m slathering on some lemon body butter and continuing to keep an eye on the Honda from my window. It’s still light outside this time of year, so I’m hoping to catch a sighting of Mr. Mysterious before I head out.

I audibly gasp when I notice a hooded man, with an average build, walk across the street towards the car and then turn around and look directly towards my window before getting inside.

“Shit.”

Our eyes momentarily meet, and I try ducking down to shield myself from his view.

“What is it,” Camden demands to know sternly on the other end of the phone. “What’s wrong?”

Dammit, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean nothing?”

“Calm down. It’s fine.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I swear. I was just getting dressed in front of an open window, and I think some weirdo saw me. It’s my fault. I should have had the shades down.”

There’s a moment of dead silence making me think momentarily that the call dropped.

“You don’t have any clothes on?”

“Uh, no, true detective,” I wisecrack. “I just got home from the gym. Had to take a shower before I go on this senseless, pointless mall run. Rome texted me the list of stuff I need to buy. It’s all for his new princess. Nothing to do with the club or a client.”

“Get on board, Jade, and stop giving him so much shit about it. She’s part of the package now. He’s in love. Love can be a good thing.”

“Oh, stop it. Love? He’s not in love. He’s just bored from banging socialites and actresses.”

“Such a cynic.”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to speak on this topic. Since when have you ever been in love?”

“I’m in love every other night.”

“You’re so gross. I feel so buried beneath all of your crap right now, that I forgot the original nature of your call.”

“That mouth of yours. Does it ever shut up?”

“Never.”

“That’s what I thought. Listen, the original nature of my call as you so put it was to let you know that this is your day one as manager of the club, and I’ll be at your place in the next ten minutes.”

“I didn’t agree to become manager.”

“That’s not the way I heard it.”

“You guys suck.”

“Like I said, I’ll be at your place in the next ten minutes.”

“What in the ham sandwich for?”

“To take you to the mall and then from there we can head over to the Lotus. Your car is a piece of shit, and I know you’re not trying to Uber all the way to the mall. That’ll cost a fortune.”

“A cost that my employers will pay for, so what do I care?”

“I have a parts run to make over that way anyway. I’ll just come by and scoop you.”

I don’t want Camden to come to my house for a lot of reasons, but mostly because he’ll probably notice a strange guy sitting in a parked car in front of my window, and he won’t sit around and watch him like I’ve been doing. He’ll probably just go crack the windshield with a baseball bat or the butt of his gun and tell him to fuck off.

That’s one of the things that can be so deceiving about Camden. He can often be expressionless, quiet, pensive, but he’s also ripped, smart and dangerous as fuck. He can sit silently for hours on his computer and dig for information, but in the real world he has very little patience for people. He only wants to ask a question once. He only wants to explain something once. He only wants to deal with a problem once. And he doesn’t like mistakes.

“I’ll meet you near the mini-mart. The one on fifth,” I say hoping he’ll buy my bullshit.

“I can just pick you up at your house, Jade.”

“No, no. I’m on my way out the door as we speak. I’ll see you there in fifteen.”

“A minute ago you were naked by the window.” He sounds perturbed.

“I get dressed quickly. Mini-mart. Fifteen minutes.”

“You sure everything’s all right? If you lie to me—”

“Everything’s fine.”

“You’re so damn weird. Fine, I’ll see you in fifteen.”

I’m bent over outside of the front door of my apartment building, popping two pieces of spearmint gum, and lacing up my Converse while I get a really good look at the blue Honda. This close up I can see that Mr. Mysterious is in there. He’s in the driver’s seat, which is tilted far back, and there’s some sort of hand towel covering his entire face. As if he’s trying to keep the sunlight out of his eyes for a nap.

It’s going to drive me completely crazy if I don’t finally confront this guy. Hell, I actually took a day off of work to do it. Maybe he needs my help? So I start walking towards him. He must have been watching me the whole time or has some crazy peripheral vision, because he snatches the towel from his face and rolls down the window as I approach.

His face is blank.

Eyes kind of dead.

I can’t read him at all, mostly because he doesn’t want me to.

I quickly scan his face, as well as the interior of the car, for any signs of drug use or paraphernalia, but I don’t see anything. His skin looks clear. His eyes aren’t red. No pipes, blunts, rolling papers, or pills. He’s definitely not homeless, but there’s something about him that looks faintly familiar and not in a good way. I just can’t put my finger on what it is.

“What the fuck do you want?” Is the first thing I ask him. Hands on my hips. Attitude rolling off of me.

*Silence*

“What’s your name?” I try again.

Still nothing.

“Are you stalking me or something? Do you know who you’re fucking with?”

The stranger finally responds to my brief interrogation with a smirk.

“I know exactly who I’m fucking with,” he replies. “And it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Barlow.”

That voice. I’ve heard it before.

“Do I know you?” I ask looking around. Worried that I may have fallen into some sort of trap.

“No, but we have someone in common.”

“Who could we possibly have in common?”

“Someone who’s lived a lifetime of regrets.”

That could be a zillion people. I don’t have time for a fishing expedition.

“Not interested.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m so sure, dude.”

I turn to walk towards the direction of the mini-mart when the stranger calls out.

“Even if it’s my brother, Tyson?”