Page 18 of The Billionaire's Distraction

The real thing.

And sooner or later, he’d have her.

Chapter 11

Tonygrabbedtheballand spun around, sensing someone behind him.He pivoted hard, then twisted in the opposite direction, launching the ball high.For a brief moment, the whole court held its breath.Then came the softswishas the ball slipped clean through the hoop.

Cheers erupted, the sound of teenage voices filling the heavy air with raucous laughter.

“That’s the game, my boys!”Tito hollered, high-fiving his crew as they swaggered off the court.“Thanks for coming out, Tony.”

Tony nodded once, his expression neutral as his eyes constantly scanned the edges of the court.His guards were scattered along the perimeter, blending in with the crowd.Not well enough, though.These kids—sharp-eyed, street-smart—had already spotted them.Inner city teens could always tell who didn’t belong.

Tony understood too well what they were walking through every day.These boys could play ball with NBA level talent, but most of them hadn’t eaten breakfast.They were balancing on a razor’s edge, one bad choice away from selling product or falling into addiction themselves.And if they started selling?It would only be a matter of time before curiosity turned into a habit, and that habit would kill them.

So, Tony threw money at them when he could.Paid tuition for college, for trade school.Slipped cash to their mothers when the rent came due and funds were low.He wasn’t here to save anyone—that kind of thinking was foolish.But if he could keep even a handful of them out of the gutter, it would be enough.

That’s when he saw her.

He caught sight of the pony tail first.A long, dark sweep of hair bouncing against a woman’s back as she walked along the street.His body tightened instantly, his mind preparing to welcome the distraction of someone—anyone—who wasn’t Naomi Cross.

But then his gaze followed the ponytail down to the hips.The sway.The familiar curve of an ass he’d been trying not to think about for three damn days.

Tony’s chest constricted.Of course.Fate wasn’t merciful.It was her.

“Don’t be looking at Ms.Naomi, Tony,” Tito said suddenly, stepping into his line of sight.

Tony turned toward the younger man, his brows lifting.He rose slowly to his full height, towering over the kid.“Excuse me?”His voice was calm, but the weight of it silenced half the court.

To his credit, Tito didn’t back down.Other men had died for less.But this boy—this half-grown street soldier—held his ground.“That’s Ms.Naomi.She’s under our protection.”

Tony blinked, momentarily disoriented by the words.“She’s what?”

“She helped my little sister with her math homework,” Tito explained, chin lifted in defiance.

“She helped my cousin get his GED,” another kid shouted from behind him.

“She babysits my little brother when my mom’s on a bender,” another added.

Tony looked around, his sharp eyes moving from one earnest face to the next.Every one nodded.Every one vouched for her.

“She’s good,” Tito declared firmly, punctuating the words with a sharp gesture.“She doesn’t belong here, but she’s ours.So, yeah.She’s under our protection.”

Against his will, Tony felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.Subtle, but there.That seemed to be happening too damn often around her.He pushed it down quickly, trying to piece together what he was hearing.

“She’s a nanny,” he said flatly.“For some asshole across town.”He glanced back to Naomi just as she pushed through the glass doors of a grimy apartment building.His gut clenched.“What the hell is she doing down here?”

“She lives here,” Tito replied, matter-of-fact.“Moved in about three years ago.”

The words landed like a gut punch.

Tony’s expression didn’t change, but inside he was reeling.He’d had his people look.They couldn’t find an address.He had assumed she lived in some modest suburb, somewhere quiet and probably renting a room out of another house.But here?In this neighborhood where gunfire after dark was as common as sirens, where every stoop had a story soaked in blood?

It explained things.Why she didn’t leave a trail.Why she looked tired sometimes.Why she held herself like someone who had learned to survive on grit.

But it didn’t explain how the hell she was still alive, walking these streets at night.

“Where’s her car?”Tony demanded, his voice sharper than he intended.