Chapter 4: BodyguardAugust 15, 20—
29872 Wolfe Street
8:20 A.M.
“What the f**k do you want, Trigger, and how did you get in here?” Fargo asked from his bed, feeling groggy and needing a cup of java to wake up, outraged at the sight of his ex.
“You know I’m like a mouse and can get into anything.”
“You’re more like a drunken cockroach, if you want to know the truth. Now tell me what you’re doing here.” Fargo consumed the guy’s blond hair and six-three frame. He had gained some weight in the past few months, which looked as if it were all muscle on his chest and arms; an obvious sign that he was working out daily. Trigger didn’t like cowboy hats much and chose not wear one. A skin-tight and cotton T-shirt with the word Top arched over his swollen pecs and hard n*****s.
“I want to talk
