Holding hands while sitting in an overcrowded bacteria container had to be about the best cover a guy could ask for. No one watching us would think that I was already on the job, which was a two-edged sword. On the one hand, no one knew I was casing the joint, trying to find the undesirables, and on the other, I got to see just how many men in the place had their eyes on my woman.
Some of these bold fuckers didn’t even try to hide the fact that they were checking her out, which I find totally disrespectful. I didn’t appreciate the smirks from my boys either, but there wasn’t much I could do unless I wanted to draw her attention to my own asinine behavior.
It felt as if I were getting a crash course in dating one-oh-one, sitting there, and I didn’t like any part of it. My guts were in knots, my neck was hot, and what’s worse, I went into fight mode with my hackles raised and a taste for blood that I’ve known only on the battlefield.