“I was beginning to think that you were actually butting out of my life.” I joke, as I answer my brother’s phone call.
He scoffs. “I’ve been getting my information straight from Eric.”
“Wow. Classy, John.”
“What? He doesn’t fuck around with small talk and I can actually get straight answers from him.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Is my mature response.
John’s voice turns serious. “How are you? Really?”
I’m mildly depressed. I miss Vincent. He’s been gone for four days, and even though I talk to him every night when I go to bed, I can’t drop this clawing need to see him. But I know that’s not what my brother is asking about. He wants to know how I’m doing after the break-in.
“I’m okay. It’s still a little weird to think about someone being in my place. Like, really weird. And creepy. But I’m never alone. Eric might be annoying at times.” The man in question slides a look to me across the backseat of the car. “… but he makes me feel safe.”
Eric replies with his best imitation of an approving look.
“Good. And how’s the training going?”
My body aches just at the question. “It sucks. But since you already know about my torture sessions, then I’m sure you already know that I’m terrible.”
“No one expected you to be Chuck Norris on your first day of self-defense training. What matters is that you’re learning. You don’t need to be able to take down a bad guy, you just need to create an opening to get away.”
“Yes. Fleeing like a little chicken is precisely what Eric and his band of tormentors are teaching me.”
John isn’t wrong. I don’t plan on being able to fight anyone. I didn’t even plan to take these stupid classes. But of course, Vincent doesn’t care what I think, not when it comes to my safety. He had this all arranged before his flight even left for New York. And rather than warn me, he just gave Eric orders to bring me to some dumb gym the next morning.
So, I spent the weekend getting my ass handed to me by a pair of high-dollar trainers. And each day after work, I finish the day with Eric and his sidekick of choice, in a gym that I didn’t even realize was down the hall from my office.
John ignores my whining. “I have some guys that can fill in if Eric needs extra help or some time off. Vincent already knows this, but I wanted you to know too. And I have some feelers out there for that piece of shit Randal. We’ll catch him, sis.”
“Thank you.” I sigh. “I know I shouldn’t complain. I’m lucky to have so many people who care about me.”
“Yeah, well… I don’t want you thinking that it’s just your boyfriend working on this.” John’s tone speaks to the distrust he still has for Vincent.
He wasn’t thrilled about my involvement with Vincent from the beginning, and then you add on the psychotic uncle, it’s a bit understandable that John isn’t a fan. I wish he’d give Vincent a chance, but I don’t feel like arguing about it now.
I change the subject. “How’s work going?”
“Fine. Nothing exciting.” John’s code for no undercover work.
“That’s good. And outside of work? Any unlucky ladies?”
“You’re hilarious.” He deadpans.
I laugh. “I see why you and Eric get along so well. You two are the same exact person.” I tick off the reasons on my fingers. “You think you have all the answers. Smiling is a chore. Work is everything. You have no sense of humor. You-”
My phone is plucked from my hand.
“Hey!” I protest.
Eric holds the phone to his ear furthest away from me. “Hi John, I think I need to confiscate your sister’s phone. For security reasons.” There’s a pause as I imagine my brother replying. “I knew you’d understand. Yep. Have a good evening.”
Eric hangs up the call, hesitating only a moment before handing my phone back.
I give him my best glare.
“We’re here, ma’am.” The driver says, pulling to the curb.
Any hint of joking leaves Eric’s face. “Wait for me.”
It’s not like he needs to tell me. Every. Single. Time. But he does. And I might like to push his buttons, but I won’t mess around with his actual bodyguard stuff. I think it’s ridiculous, but I’ve learned to just let it happen.
When my door is pulled open, the smell of roasting meats and Mexican spices fill the air.
Climbing out of the car, I smile.
“It’s been too long,” I tell the front door of Salty Limes.
