by Amber Malloy
A roar of laughter went up.
“Got to pay for dinner, man.” Knox pointed at Andre. “And White Castle is not on the menu.”
“Sweatpants season is not the same,” Andre hollered back.
“That was your ‘mask-off’ question,” Lashonda told her while she applied more blush to her cheeks. “All the wives get one. The husbands pick something you may or may not tell the truth about.”
“What was Knox’s answer?”
“He told us you would say the closest thing to ‘what does that dick do?’ in response to love at first sight,” Jill read off her card.
Remy chuckled. “Sure, I thought that. I mean, he was wearing khakis on our first date, but I could still make out his hard-on—”
“Told you,” Knox cut her off to taunt Andre. “And TMI, babe.”
The group had plans to go out and eat later. Knox wouldn’t let Andre get out of paying. Rich cheapo, she groused in her head.
“That shit’s not the same,” Andre muttered.
“Knox,” Jill pulled his attention back to her, “do you want your son to be like you?”
“No.” He snorted. “I’d rather he be like my dad—and if it’s a girl, I want her to be a bad-ass like Remy or my mom.”
“Ni-i-ice.” Remy put her fist out for him to bump.
“Now, am I forgiven?”
“We’re getting warmer.”
Lashonda teased Remy’s hair over her shoulder. Little braids were interwoven with her curls and the effect couldn’t have been more adorable. Once she finished, the stylist stepped out of the way, allowing the lights surrounding them to hit her head on.
“Wow.” She sat back. The full force of brightness stunned her for a second.
“Remy, what do you expect is the next step in Knox’s career?” Jill rattled off another question.
“Mr. Mom,” Knox interjected then chuckled. “Ever since she’s been home, I haven’t given her a moment to breathe. I think she’s finally getting tired of me.”
Knox had an amazing amount of pent-up energy. She could tell he didn’t know what to do with himself. “He’s still in top form, and right now, a fourth Mega Bowl with his longtime friend and running back would be his to win. Can you imagine him doing that for the first time in front of his wife and kid? I mean, it would be epic.”
“Wait… What?” he asked, staring in awe. No smart remark graced his lips for the first time that day.
“Come on, man.” Andre stepped over, holding up his phone. Bane’s big mug filled the screen.
“Say the word,” the owner offered, “and we’ll draw up that contract.”
Knox glanced between Andre and Bane before he settled on her.
“Come on, Supastar,” Remy said. “You think you got one more in you?”
Knox’s lips curled at the corners into the biggest brightest smile. “What the hell? One more for both of my babies.”
Reaching out to slap hands with Knox, Andre howled before he turned to the camera. “I hope you got that shit on tape, because we’re back and we’re going to take it all.”
“Requiem Bell, you are a warrior.” Knox leaned in close with a lewd grin. “You’re a gladiator. You’re a beautiful beast.” He closed the inches between them to peck her freshly-painted, glossy lips. “And I’m so happy I tricked you into marrying me.”
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Kill Shot
Amber Malloy
Excerpt
O’Brien’s, the Midtown Manhattan pub, aired the NBA playoffs on every television in the bar. Walker Knight ordered another round of Jameson for his boys. His crew—younger than him by at least ten years—congratulated each other on a job well done.
“To the best security team this side of the Pacific.” He lifted his drink for a toast.
“Come on, boss. We thought you were going to say ‘in the world’,” a newbie joked.
“That’s a tall order. It’ll take more than one job together for that.” Walker wanted to celebrate, just not to the level of wasted. His crew had no problem staying up all night, but he needed to catch some zzzs. “Next round’s on me.”
They’d spent eighteen hours on a plane to the Middle East. In three short days the team had taken down a faction of a religious sect named Glory’s Soldiers. Pleased with their quick extermination of the zealots, WLK Security’s oil clients had provided them with a major bonus.
As he was signaling for the bartender to settle their tab, a newbie squeezed in beside him.
“What’s next?” the rookie asked.
With a total of three partners—two from his school days and one silent—they ran a private security firm. Walker led their missions and could always tell the adrenaline junkies from the dedicated worker bees.
“Give it a couple of days,” he lied. Walker honestly didn’t think he would see the guy again. The kid’s jumpy nature grated on his nerves.
The bar cheered at the Knicks’ three-point basket at the buzzer. After signing the credit receipt, he chucked deuces to his crew. Dead on his feet, Walker headed for the exit. He couldn’t wait for his head to hit the pillow.
As his phone vibrated in his pants, he fought the urge to ignore it, but habit forced him to fish it out of his pocket.
“Walker,” he answered.
“Well, if it isn’t my Knight in shining armor,” the woman cooed.
Walker stopped in his tracks. That voice was straight out of his past. A form of Neverland—not all bad, but not one he wanted to deal with.
A shoulder check from a drunk blonde got him back into gear. She winked on her way past, and he smiled in return but offered nothing more. “Thought I would never hear from you again. How did you crawl your way back from the dead, Eden Morgan?” he said.
“Trust me. Raising twins is much harder.”
Walker chuckled at the spy. J8, the American Intelligence Agency recognized as top in their field, had put her out to pasture by burning her status. Thankfully, Walker had never had to deal with the aftermath of her departure because he’d left long before that had happened.
“Since I’m positive this is not a social ring-a-ding-ding…” He pushed opened the door to the bar. Shielding his eyes from the descending rays of the sun, he headed to his Jeep. “What’s up?”
“I’m calling in a favor.”
Walker searched around for the women on the other end of the call. Spies were the sneakiest devils. However, the busy streets gave no clue if she was in the vicinity or not.
“Sorry, sweetie, I got out of the game a long time ago.”
“Don’t worry,” Eden told him. “No heavy lifting on your part.”
He snatched open his Jeep’s door to hop in. “There’s nothing in me that believes that.”
“We’ve been monitoring two lawyers from a good distance but one of them has gone off the radar.”
“And you want me to find them?” he asked. Walker put the key in the ignition and waited to see what she would say before he started the truck.
“No, I’m pretty sure she’s dead. We need you to intercept her partner and keep her safe until we can extract her. I’ll send you the info.”
“Hold up, Eden. I didn’t agree to anything.”
“That’s the funny thing about favors, Knight. They have no expiration date.”
As the text alert vibrated in his ear, she hung up before he could protest. He pulled his phone down to check the screen. The name E.A. Marcille and a location pin appeared. Nevertheless, Walker’s interest didn’t pique until he saw the profile picture accompanying the directions.
Why would anyone want to kill her?
Putting his truck in gear, he ditched his original plans and decided to go see about a lawyer.
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About the Author
Amber Malloy dreamed of being a double agent but couldn’t pass the psyche evaluation. Crushed by despair that she couldn’t legally shoot things, Amber pursued her second career choice as pastry chef. When she’s not writing or whipping up a mean Snickers Cheesecake, she occasionally spies on her sommelier. Amber is convinced he’s faking his French accent.
Amber loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website details and author profile page at https://www.totallybound.com