“Is this where you tell me why you’re looking under bunks?”
He’d been on his hands and knees with his tactical mirror searching for something, searching for anything really. “Nothing,” he answered and closed the telescoped mirror before slipping it into his back pocket. When he stood, he had to admire the way her blue eyes stayed on him. For a small woman, she didn’t back down from him easily. Usually, his sheer size alone had people hunkering.
“Just drop it.” He felt her more than heard her follow him out of the hall and into the living area of the bus. Chains took one of the black leather recliners and swiveled away from the approaching female.
Without hesitation, Pamela turned his chair around and planted her hands on the armrests, leaning in close. “Am I in danger on this bus?”
“Why would you be in danger on this bus?”
“I’m not stupid, Damion. You’re more than the average hired hulk aren’t you?”
Damn woman. It had taken her seconds to figure him out. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, woman.”
Her eyes sparked. “First off you know my name…use it. And second, what kind of security are you?”
When he stood, Chains didn’t wait for her to move. Instead, his chest was pressed up against her, raising her body along with his own. “First off, you know my name…use it. And secondly, I’m a bodyguard.”
They both stood there at an impasse. Neither wanted to be the one to back down.
“By the way, I used your name,” she said as she turned away from him.
“I told you I go by Chains.”
“Oh that’s right. Does your mother call you Chains then or does she still call you Damion?” She offered him a purely evil smile before opening a cupboard door and pulling out a box of granola bars.
He wouldn’t let her get a rise out of him no matter how hard she tried. “Neither.”
“Really?” His answer clearly wasn’t what she expected. “What does she call you then?”
She struggled with the wrapper on the chocolate chip granola bar so he walked over and took it from her ripping it open with his teeth before handing it back.
“Ahh, thanks.”
He really wished he hadn’t watched her take a bite, chew, and then swallow. The visual of those lips closed around—fuck! What was he thinking? You were thinking those red lips would look perfect wrapped around your cock.
“Dami—Chains? You okay?”
She’d caught him staring. “I’m good.”
“Do you want some?”
Yeah, hell yeah I want some, Miss Prim and Proper.
Pamela held the granola bar box toward him. “You can have one or some or whatever if you want.”
“I don’t eat that hippy shit.”
“Hippy shit?” she asked.
“Yeah, granola, granola bars all the same.”
“I’m not a hippy.”
“Tree-hugger maybe? One of those broads against guns, sex, and rock-n-roll,” he laughed coolly. “Probably a member of PETA and drive a little matchbox car like a Prius or something. One of those kinda women.”
Rolling her eyes, Pamela responded. “I drive a Jeep, I’m on a rock tour with one of my favorite bands, I eat far too much meat to be accepted into PETA, and…” She unbuttoned her suit jacket and pulled the fabric of her blouse up.
No way. “What in the fuck?” Coming closer, he reached toward her.
Turning quickly, she planted her hand firmly on his chest. “Nobody touches my baby but me, Damion.” When he growled, she corrected herself. “Sorry, Chains—nobody touches my baby but me, Chains.”
“You know how to handle that Glock?”
“I know how to handle my gun just fine thank you.” Throwing the wrapper away from her granola bar, she tossed him that same snotty smile from earlier. “By the way, it’s not a Glock. It’s a Kahr Arms CW9 in these hands. I’ve had issues with my Glock 19 jamming, so I tend to favor this 9-millimeter Luger. What do you carry?”
Holy. Fucking. Shit. She’d just made him hard as granite with that gun talk. Pamela wasn’t carrying some little pink 22 pistol, no, she had some heat in her hands and by the sound of it, she knew what she was talking about.
Without even blinking, he answered. “.357 Derringer.”
“Ahh a cop gun, huh? I would’ve guessed something bigger.” He saw the moment it dawned on her. “Wait. That’s only a four shot, right? You’re carrying something else then, too.”
Hard as a fucking rock, he cleared his throat. “What makes you say that?”
“You’re hired security, a bodyguard; you’re packing more than a four pinger.”
“I don’t pack a pinger at all, sweetheart.”
“You know what I mean.” She stepped closer to him. “That’s your backup gun, isn’t it?”
“How do you know so much about firepower, Miss Pamela Myers, personal assistant to the stars?”
“I’m in charge of my safety, and I plan to stay safe, Mr. Damion Lopez.”
“Chains.”
“Mr. Chains Lopez. Better?”
Chains raised an eyebrow and smiled. “And here I was worried you’d be a delicate little flower that would get trampled on by a bunch of rock stars with shitty attitudes.”
“What’s your main piece?” Looking him over, she asked with her eyes. He nodded, and she ran her hand from his knee down. “This would be the Derringer, right?” He nodded again. Standing, she reached under his arm to his back, and just as she was about to make purchase, his hand grabbed hold of her wrist. When their eyes met, she saw a fire looking back at her. “You wouldn’t be carrying anything less than or bigger than a 9- millimeter.”
If she kept this up, he’d be shooting in his jeans like a goddamn teenager and he didn’t mean the gun. “Ber—” clearing his throat, he started over. “Beretta 92FS.”
“9-millimeter, like I said. No Glock?”
“I’ve had…jamming issues.”
Now, it was her turn to laugh when he used her words back at her…again.
About the Author
Known for her rebel attitude Sidda Lee Rain makes it clear she’s here to stay and write the way she wants to --grammatical hot mess or not-- Her books aren’t meant to change the world, her characters aren’t meant to be perfect. But, trust they’ll bring a smile to your face and you might want to have your drink on the rocks cuz you’re gonna need to cool yourself down.
Truth is if you don’t find her behind the keyboard you probably won’t be able to see her at all. Because in all likelihood she’ll either be decked out in full camo in a tree stand with her bow in hand or flying down a highway at speeds only flashing lights and sirens can stop... with karaoke hour in high gear!
Series
Book One
Sweet as Candy
Book Two
Pure as Snow
Book Three
Sexy as Sin
Watch for Book Four
Cool as Ice