The Enforcer (Men Who Thrill Book 1) by Kaye Blue Page B

long. He’d made the offer before, and I’d rejected it almost instantly. I wasn’t built for management and had no interest in day-to-day operations. Still, it was a bit of a risk to refuse him. The offer revealed how highly he regarded me, and he could be offended that I turned him down and as quickly as I had. I’d had no other choice though. I knew myself, my limitations.
    I was an enforcer, nothing more.
    “If you change your mind,” he said.
    I shook his hand and said good-bye.

Chapter Two
    I walked the several blocks that separated the club from my destination, a thrum of what could almost be called excitement bubbling in my blood. That feeling intensified as I got closer and closer, and I let the strange sensation take over. I was unaccustomed to it, unaccustomed to feeling anything, really, so the feeling was still odd. But I liked it, had come to need it in fact.
    I entered the smallish restaurant about a half hour before it closed and settled in my usual spot, the last booth on the left, the only seat that gave a full view of the entire place, including the front and back doors and restrooms. As much as I liked being here, feeling transported, old habits being what they were, I still needed to be completely aware of my surroundings at all times; my life depended on it.
    The unique nature of this little game never failed to amuse me. Other guys went to clubs, fucked bored housewives who were looking for excitement, but during my downtime, I went to a restaurant, one that, save for pie, I’d never even eaten at. Not the most popular way to spend time, but there was nothing else I’d rather do. In the split second after I sat, she placed a cup of steaming coffee in front of me and turned and headed back to the counter, where she lifted a glass dome and expertly plated a piece of pie, one that she brought to the table and left, all without saying a word.
    I sipped the strong coffee and then took a bite of the pie—apple today—giving off an air of casual disinterest. Nothing could be further from the truth, though. I watched her as she moved around the restaurant, chatting pleasantly with the few other patrons, tidying the bar, getting ready to close the place.
    She was a foot shorter than my own six four, her smooth, soft-looking skin a deep, rich brown that beckoned me to touch; so did her body, the rounded slope of her soft but strong shoulders enclosed in a simple white button-shirt—one that was still immaculately clean despite it being the end of the day—leading down to full breasts, a thick but narrow waist, all atop robust hips and thighs that strained against the confines of her navy-blue pants. Her feminine shape appealed, but when she turned and smiled at one of her customers, she became a goddess to my eye.
    Unabashed, unrestrained warmth flowed through that smile and took what could have been average features to an entirely different plane, one that made her almost irresistible. I never engaged with her, didn’t dare risk it, but these little glimpses of her were food to my soul, embers of light in the darkness, light that I found myself seeking more and more.
    I’d passed this place a thousand times, a million, over the years, but I could remember the night I’d walked past and caught a fleeting sight of her. I’d been struck but it, and by her, left with no choice but to enter, the need to see more of that smile overriding common sense.
    “Hello, sir. I’m April. What can I get you?” she’d said.
    April .
    A perfect name for her.
    I’d peered at her, taking in the professionally friendly expression on her face and hastily ordered the first thing that had come to mind, coffee and a slice of pie. They’d only had one slice left, and I’d taken it, telling her that the kind didn’t matter.
    And I’d done the same thing again and again, always ordering pie and coffee and leaving just before she closed. She’d never tried to engage me but didn’t seem particularly concerned or