Read TAG for Free Online Page A

which is even worse. A twenty-five-minute ride drops us into a newer development filled with apartments. Hopefully, I’ll be living in one, and he’ll be living in another. But I know well enough that that wouldn’t be the case.
    We step out of the sedan and I wait for the trunk to pop open so I can pull out my own bags. I don’t need someone carrying my shit for me too. I hear the pop, and I wrestle with the trunk to force it open at a quicker speed. I yank my bags out and throw them over my shoulder.
    “Where to, Jeeves?”
    Tango effortlessly pulls his bags out of the trunk and holds them both out in front of him, accentuating his largely defined triceps. He nods to the driver and heads toward the closest building.
    With much reluctance, I trail behind. We drop our bags in the center of the capacious living room, and I glance around, familiarizing myself with my new living quarters. The smell of fresh paint mixed with a vacuum soap smell drifts through the air. The floors are covered in a light-colored carpet, which offsets the similar but darker shade of paint on the walls. Basic furniture lines the perimeter of the room and a small oak coffee table sits perfectly in between the round of furniture.
    I look into the two bedrooms and drop my coat on the bed in the larger bedroom. The room is staged with the essentials: bed, closet, and desk. Looks like a dorm room.
    I pull out my phone and send a message to the last random number Dad sent me: Thanks a lot, Dad.
    I throw my phone down on the stripped bed and return to the living room for my bags. I find Tango in the corner of the room popping some pills into his mouth. Hmm. I groan silently to myself while wondering why his striking presence is becoming more infuriating by the minute. I thought I just told myself I was over the good looks. He’s a guard, not a model. I don’t like guards.
    I snatch up my bags quietly, careful to avoid any further conversation for the moment. I need some time to digest all of this.
    I close the door behind me and look around to acquaint myself with each boring empty corner of my new bedroom. I hate moving. I drop my bags onto my bed, observing the slight resistance within the springs.
    Now this looks comfy.
    Whatever. I’m sure I won’t be here long.
    TANGO
    I sent my confirmation to the number I was given by Eli: She’s in my possession. All clear.
    Damn. She’s a firecracker. I haven’t ever turned down a challenge, but taking on an assignment with a hot chick who has a bad attitude is a new one for me. It’s definitely different than any of my previous missions—mostly since I never had to work with a female. Plus, knowing my hormones and how they react, I’m not sure I’m capable of completing any job with a chick hanging over my shoulder.
    Thankfully, there was no place for flirting or relationships in the Marines, so it was rare when it happened. Definitely didn’t happen with me. Plus, I haven’t really had time to focus on women outside of the Marines since I was deployed more than I was home. Well, unless I was at the club.
    The club. God, it’s been so long since I’ve been to one. Thinking back to it now, it probably wasn’t the best place to focus on women. They looked at me the same way they looked at every other dude who walked into that place. Money. Money. Money. But for some reason I was able to convince myself to forget this whenever I was in there.
    Being around Cali now, she is the purpose for me being here, and she is the focus. I feel like I’ve been told to stare at a briefcase full of money and not touch it. Not imagine what it would be like to experience having that type of money. Not to spend it and do both good and bad things with it. Although with her hiding in her room and avoiding me—for all intents and purposes, the briefcase will remain closed, keeping me from staring at the goods—which will probably make this a lot easier.
    Fuck. I need to get laid and probably not by the task at hand.