Chapter 3

Within minutes, the black-clad thugs who had swaggered in moments ago were sprawled across the floor, moaning and writhing in pain.

Marcel stared at Colette, swallowing hard as his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. Shock washed over him again and again. He could hardly believe what he had just witnessed.

He had seen his fair share of experts. Even the Larsen family's bodyguards were ex-special forces, but Colette was on an entirely different level.

There was nothing flashy about her moves. Every strike was lethal.

That kind of instinct came only from real-life-or-death combat. Marcel found himself thinking, 'Who exactly is this woman?'

Colette didn't even glance at Marcel. She walked over to Kyle with calm, measured steps.

Kyle was terrified, clutching his chest and scrambling backward as fast as he could.

Colette pressed her foot against his head, forcing his face into the greasy, filthy ground. Then she bent down and tapped his cheek with a skewer.

"You knocked over my chicken wings, smashed my table, and scared off my customers," she said, listing the damages. "15 for the wings, 150 for the table, and 300 for lost business.

"Let's round it to 600. If you're short even a penny, I'll break your leg. Your choice."

Kyle looked like he was about to cry. "Please, ma'am, I'll pay!" He fumbled for his wallet, trembling so badly that he could barely open it. He dumped out all the cash he had. "I only have 500."

Colette frowned, picked up the cash with a look of disgust, counted it, and stuffed it into her pocket.

Then her eyes landed on the gold chain around Kyle's neck. "This barely covers 60," she said as she yanked it off. "Get lost." She finally lifted her foot from his head.

Kyle scrambled to his feet, shouting at his crew, and they all piled into the car, speeding away in panic.

Colette brushed her hands clean and turned to face Marcel, who was frozen in shock. Their eyes met.

Marcel's gaze was a storm of emotions. There was shock, confusion, and a flicker of something wild and intense he hadn't even realized in himself. "You—" he started to say.

Colette cut him off. She gestured to the scattered tables, chairs, and then the grill, which had been damaged in the fight. "Those guys were after you, weren't they?"

Marcel blinked, slightly taken aback. "Yeah."

Colette nodded, pulled out her phone again, and shoved it right under Marcel's nose. "Blame goes where it belongs. They paid for the mess they made. Now it's time for you to pay your share."

Marcel was speechless.

Colette said, "My stall got wrecked because of you. They scared the hell out of me, and I had to act as your bodyguard.

"All that fighting worked up my appetite. The bodyguard fee plus the late-night snack comes to 600. But since you're a regular, I'll knock off 2 percent for you."

Marcel stared at the money-minded woman, almost comical in her calculation. For a moment, he wondered if the ruthless killer he had seen earlier was his imagination.

'This girl woman is such an oddball, interesting,' he thought. Instead of being annoyed, he found himself amused. He pulled out his phone and sent the money without hesitation.

"6 thousand?" Colette blinked at the notification, stunned. "Was that a mistake?"

Marcel put his phone away and stepped closer, towering over her. He leaned in, his charming eyes flashing with a dangerous glint. "No mistake. The extra cash is for something else I want from you."

"What do you want?" she asked.

Marcel chuckled softly and closed the distance. "Colette, be my personal bodyguard. 30 thousand a month, meals and lodging included."

'Yeah, this guy is a total trouble magnet with a nasty attitude, but honestly, the cash he is throwing at me is too tempting to say no,' Colette thought.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed. It was a private number.

Colette's face tightened as she answered.

A warped, hurried voice came through. "Cove, your cover is blown. Their crew has landed in Linsiton, and you're their target. Run, now!"

'Where am I supposed to run? If I can't hide, maybe the most dangerous place is the safest. Sticking close to the Larsen family's golden boy should keep me safe enough,' Colette thought. "6 thousand is too little. Sixty thousand."

"Deal," Marcel said instantly. He thought he had picked up a greedy little kitten, but what he didn't realize was that he had just invited a tigress into his life.

*****

Colette settled comfortably into the plush leather seat in the back of the Maybach, letting out a long, satisfied sigh.

Her apron, still stained with chili powder and cumin, was tied around her waist. She didn't bother removing it, letting it smear the expensive leather with careless abandon.

She pulled out half a piece of toast from her pocket and took a large bite. The loud crunch echoed through the car, slicing through the silence.

Up front, Laith Harper was driving. His eye twitched as he stole a glance at Marcel in the rearview mirror.

Marcel turned, noticed a smear of grease on Colette's lips, and frowned a little. "Is it good?"

Colette swallowed the toast, shot him a look, and offered him the rest. "Try it. It's still warm."

Marcel didn't take it. He stared at her, his eyes deep and unreadable. "Colette."

"Right here, boss," she answered nonchalantly, but her posture was tense. She was keeping a close eye on the scene behind them through the bulletproof window, alert but careful not to show it.

The encrypted call had her on edge. Even in Marcel's car, she knew that once "that person" had fixed on Linsiton, it was only a matter of time before they found her.

Marcel might be a walking disaster, but for now, the Larsen Group was her safest bet, a perfect shield.

"You've got some skills, huh?" Marcel said, breaking the silence.

"If you want to survive at the Food Truck Gatherings, you've got to know how to handle yourself," Colette replied, casually finishing off the last of her toast. "Why, Mr. Larsen, are you thinking about learning some fighting skills? It'll cost you."

Marcel chuckled lowly, leaning back in his seat. He was relaxed, but there was an edge in his voice. "6 thousand a month, and you're my bodyguard."

Colette raised an eyebrow, brushing crumbs from her hands. "Didn't we already settle that? Are you trying to raise my pay? I'm all for it."

"No, I've got something better in mind," Marcel said. He turned toward her, locking his charming eyes with hers in a way that felt almost predatory, as if a hunter sizing up his prey.

"What is it?"

"Be my wife."

Colette choked on her toast. The piece she'd just swallowed almost got stuck in her throat. She coughed violently, her face turning bright red.

When she finally regained her breath, she gave Marcel a look like he was insane. "Did you take a blow to the head, or did those guys knock some sense out of you? Mr. Larsen, even con artists aren't this outrageous."

Marcel didn't even blink at her trash talk, unbothered as ever. He pulled out a pricey handkerchief from his suit and wiped the grease from Colette's lips. "My family's on my case about getting married, and as you saw, many folks want me dead."

He kept his voice steady. "You need money, I need someone to take the heat for me. You can fight, and you're fearless. Most importantly..."

He paused, his eyes lingering on her face, bare and still stunning. "That sharp tongue of yours will be perfect for handling my family back home."

"So, Mr. Larsen, you're looking for a social shield and a bodyguard in one?" Colette asked.

"You won't do it for free," Marcel said, holding up three elegant fingers. "300 thousand dollars."

Colette paused, caught off guard.

"Per month," Marcel added smoothly. "Stick with me, and the money is yours."

That was a huge sum. With that kind of cash, she could buy herself a safer identity or even disappear overseas for a while.