All Chapters of Her Bodyguard, His Target : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Hunter felt a firm grip on his shoulder. Without looking back, he already knew who it was. It was a cold Friday night and him and his friend Joe had chosen to come to Fellas Corner with only one motto for the night 'No leaving until wasted'. But now he knew, he might not be able to stick around long enough to even feel tipsy. Hunter looked back and saw Hector King standing behind him. Hector nodded at him and then began walking away slowly. Hunter knew that he had to follow his boss. “What happened?” Joe asked Hunter. Hunter shrugged, stepped off the stool and gulped down the last of his whiskey. “You're probably not coming back, are you?” Joe asked him. Hunter didn't respond, he just grabbed his leather jacket from the bar and shook Joe's hand bidding goodbye. He took one last long pull at his cigarette and then placed it in the ashtray. He then followed Hector outside. At the door of the bar were two very sexily dressed women and he walked out backwards looking at them. T

Hunter pulled up in front of Hector King's mansion. He could see Joe waiting at the sliding gate. Joe was wearing a beige hoodie and khaki pants with white sneakers. He always had the best sense of style. A few feet ahead, Hunter could see Joe's batted 2008 Opel Cadette parked. Yes, Joe might wear the latest sneakers and always stayed on top of fashion trends, but he seemed stuck back in time when it came to cars. He always said that the best car models were the ones made before 2009. What a joke. And since he didn't have a solid reason for keeping his worn out car that was handed down to him from his grandfather, everyone just assumed that he was stingy and didn't want to spend on gas or anything else for that matter unless it was clothes and alcohol. Hunter got out of his 2019 Mercedes Benz and pulled off his shades as Joe raised a hand to catch Hunter's attention as if Hunter would miss him in plain sight. Hunter looked up at the blazing sun and then clumsily pulled off his leathe

Hunter approached the dance floor where the girl was dancing. When he reached her, he stood in front of her and looked into her eyes smiling. She was smiling back at him too and still moving. She was much shorter up close and looked younger too, twenty maybe. Not older than twenty-one. Hunter wasn't much of a dancer himself, so he watched her body, trying to memorize the steps and then slowly join in. She looked down at his feet as he copied her steps and then looked back up at him and they began laughing. Hunter noticed that when she laughed, her face brightened up and she looked like the happiest person on earth. With their eyes glued to each other, they laughed and danced like they were the only two people on that dance floor. Hunter couldn't remember the last time he's had so much fun with just one bottle of Hew Point in his system. Probably never. “I'm Hunter.” He shouted over the loud music so she could hear him. “I'm Becca.” She responded. “Nice meeting you.” He held out a

Tonight, Hunter was wearing a suit, the only one he owned. A black suit. He wore it with no tie, because he didn't have one. What would he need to own a tie for? He didn't like dressing formal. It always made him feel funny. He believed that suits were designed for people at a high hierarchy and that whenever an ordinary person wore it, they would all of a sudden start behaving like they were now important, out of the blue, a somebody. When he stood in front of his closet an hour ago and the suit caught his eye, he found a reason to finally wear it. He was now one of the people at a high hierarchy. He had every right, even so, he was still not comfortable in a suit. Suits suited people like Hector and some of the capos, depending on their line of management, but him? He didn't think so, even though he was the second in command now. He had set the meeting at 7pm and he was walking in at 7h05. This warehouse was one of their interrogation sites. It was hard for anyone to find it if the

“I still wanna know, bisexual women feel both dick and pussy, right?” Joe was drunk, talking in Zahn's face. “Now, people claim that lesbians don't feel dick at all. How's that possible?” Zahn looked at him like he was annoying her. “That's cause they don't.” “Man leave her alone man.” Hunter laughed, pushing Joe backwards on the couch. Joe and Zahn were both sitting on the three-seater with another girl between them. On the two-seater, there were two other girls and then Hunter was seated on the one-seater with a girl sitting on his lap. “He's stupid.” Zahn said, drinking from her bottle. She was wearing a vest, showing off her tattoos. Both her arms were covered in red, green and black ink. Most of which were entangled branches and flowers. Zahn had black dread locks, dyed blonde at the edges, the sides of her head was cut low, and the dreads were in the middle, like a mohawk. She was African American, and light skinned. Both her nostrils were pierced, a ring and a stud. She was