Free Harley's Achilles (The Rock Series Book 3) by Sandrine Gasq-DIon, Kelli Dennis, Heidi Ryan, Jennifer Jacobson, Michael Stokes Page B

Achilles’ bed, was a picture of the New York skyline. I tilted my head, studying it. It seemed odd amongst Greek photos. I shrugged and headed back to the kitchen. Low voices met my ears and I crept up the hall silently. I could make out three distinctive voices; two were extremely deep. My mouth dropped as I realized Hammer and Buster were talking. I jumped into the kitchen and pointed at them.
    “Ah HA! You do talk!”
    Hammer folded his arms across his chest and gave me a pointed look. “We’ll deny it.” He turned back to the stove.
    “Holy shit,” I whispered.
    “He is a lot to take in, eh?” Buster got up and pulled a chair out for me. “Don’t mind the Santa apron.”
    “Fuck off, Kirk,” Hammer threw over his shoulder.
    “Kirk, huh?” I grinned as I took the seat Buster offered.
    “Yes, and that guy over there,” Buster pointed to Hammer. “Is Marcello Balboni.”
    “Gareth said he thought you were Italian,” I chuckled.
    “I’m Kirk Kendrick, and you know Achilles.”
    “What’s your last name, Achilles?” I asked.
    “Castellanos,” Hammer answered for him.
    He put a plate in front of me and my mouth watered. “What is this?”
    “Spaghetti with Italian sausage, onion and green peppers.”
    “Marc here is the cook for us,” Achilles said as he dug into his own plate.
    “Yes, although I know Achilles can cook. Kirk burns water.”
    “I do not. I can make that noodle shit.”
    My head was ping-ponging between the bodyguards. I was still in shock that they actually spoke in my presence. I kind of felt, I don’t know, honored? The three of them dwarfed their little round kitchen table. I felt closed in, like I was in some weird Tetris game.
    “So, Achilles tells us you’re going to Greece with him,” Buster mentioned between mouthfuls of food.
    “That’s what he says.” I shrugged.
    “I think it will be nice for Harley to get away for a while. Let his wounds heal.” Achilles leaned into me, eyeing my arm. “Feel better?”
    “It’s okay, kind of itchy,” I admitted.
    “Stitches will do that,” Buster agreed. “Good thing it wasn’t worse.”
    “Well, my guardian angel was looking out for me.” I glanced up at Achilles.
    “And I always will.” Achilles touched my arm carefully.
    I was certain every sound in the room stopped. I glanced at Hammer and Buster and found them staring at us. Achilles cleared his throat and went back to eating. I lowered my head and began to eat. The spaghetti was fucking awesome! I hadn’t had food like that in a long time.
    “This is really good, Hamm — um, Marc? What should I call you?”
    “Asshole suits him well,” Buster chuckled.
    “Well, you can call me Marc while you’re here. Unless you prefer Hammer.”
    “I get the nickname.” I motioned to Hammer. “But you?” I pointed to Buster. “Not so sure about.”
    “I’m the one they call in when something needs to be busted.” Buster grinned, twirling his fork in his fingers.
    “Why don’t you have a nickname?” I glanced over at Achilles.
    “Oh, he does, he just doesn’t like it,” Hammer answered.
    Achilles seemed to stiffen next to me and I searched his face.
    “Why don’t you like it?”
    “Thanatos,” Achilles said quietly. “The Greek god of death.”
    Huh, I was going to have to look that one up.
    “Achilles could take a guy out from over a mile away,” Hammer continued. “Still can, actually.”
    “Like I said, you and Rebel need to hang out.” I tried to smile at Achilles, but he wouldn’t make eye contact with me.
    “Well! I’m stuffed.” Buster pushed away from the table. “If I don’t see you in the morning, have a great flight and enjoy Greece, Harley.”
    I shook Buster’s hand and gave him a grin. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell the others you guys actually speak.”
    Hammer grunted at me and Buster gave me a nod before placing his dishes in the dishwasher. Hammer excused himself as well, and that left a silent Achilles and