Page 38 of Twisted Little Game

Could have told me you were hiring me a bodyguard.

Luke

I’m sorry. I knew you’d hate it. I was going to tell you, you know. Roman said he’d be subtle, and my friend who referred him swears by him. Said he’s loyal.

It’s okay. Overkill, but okay.

How is Crimson? I wanted to let you get used to it before I asked too much.

I miss the city.

Upstate isn’t so bad. You’ll get used to it. Or you’ll hate it… but you’ll be safe.

Lol, fuck off.

Miss you. I’m going to visit as soon as the start of football season calms down. Lot of press lately.

Miss you too. All the time.

I don’t tell him about the memento left at my door. Or the man who apparently wasn’t Roman who followed me for a while last night.

But I don’t need to worry Luke any more than he already is. The New York Reapers are relying on him this season, and I know he has so much on his plate.

“Okay. I’ll only be a second,” Roman says as he takes a turn off the main road and onto a long, private gravel driveway.

He makes another smooth turn and suddenly we’re in front of a big, modern, beautiful house, with wood and glass, right in the middle of what seemed like forest land.

It’s like a small mansion.

Very impressive, for whoever lives here.

“Whoa.”

“Stay here. I need to speak with my cousins, and I’ll be right back.”

He gets out of the car, leaving the air on for me inside. He walks up to the front and keys in a code before opening one of the big, glass front doors.

I roll down my window a little bit and listen to the sound of the air.

It’s nothing like it is in the city.

I can hear the breeze blowing through all of the trees, the sound of an occasional bee buzzing past, and even the sound of a squirrel who patters by on the gravel, running fast.

I close my eyes for a moment, letting it wash over me.

The wind in the leaves is almost like the sound of the ocean. Everything smells like cedar and pine.

Maybe this is why people live here.

It’s… nice, I guess.

My phone buzzes, and I glance down at it.

Your Guardian Fucking Angel

It will be at least ten minutes.

Tate