Mila unloaded the last box from the truck and carried it to the loading dock, her arms burning in hot protest. She added it to the pile in the warehouse then leaned back against the stack of boxes, watching as a faint whitish yellowish glow on the horizon outside hinted at sunrise.

She had to work again in three hours. Three hours to go home, shower, take a small nap, then get right back to work. Between shower time and travel time, it left her with an hour and a half of sleep for the whole day, if she showered quickly. She'd consider not showering if not for the fact she'd been lifting heavy boxes all night long. Physical labor took away the option not to shower.

Eyelids heavy with exhaustion, Mila pushed off the boxes and clocked out before heading to the bus stop. She normally didn't like to sleep on the bus because she didn't trust anyone to leave her and her things alone, but exhaustion was winning. She took two graveyard shifts back-to-back during the week. It was the second morning in a row she was going to the law firm to work eight hours after working eight hours overnight. Her body didn't care enough to be worried about people on the bus, it demanded sleep and Mila gave into it.

Thankfully, every time the bus stopped and opened its doors, the vehicle itself was so loud but there was also shuffle of movement as people got on and off. The noise helped Mila not miss her stop from sleeping.

Stepping off the bus, Mila's feet dragged against the sidewalk. Her feet ached and she longed for someone that would give her a foot massage, or even time to soak her feet at all. Mila made it to her apartment despite the protestation of her feet and was disheartened when she went to slip the key in the lock and the door was just open.

Heart racing, Mila reached into her back pocket for her taser and debated about whether or not she should go in.

"Marcus?" She whispered, hoping if it was him, he'd not be an ass and scare her worse than she already felt, or if it wasn't, maybe the whisper would be enough to get him over here.

"Don't hang outside your own apartment, Mimi," Dallas called through the door. "It's creepy."

Mila sighed in annoyance and tucked her hand with the taser into her jacket pocket so she could have it close by. She didn't like the way Dallas was just here, barely at sunrise, in her apartment despite not having a key. She had a feeling she knew why. He wasn't happy about the upcoming trip for Stella. He wanted her to gain security codes for another place her firm was representing but it was being represented by a lawyer Mila didn't work under, which meant getting the information wasn't as easy. He never answered when she told him it wouldn't happen until after Stella's trip.

Reluctantly, Mila pushed the door open and feigned confidence with no hint of the distress she felt at having him here with no warning. He was lounged out on her couch, hands tucked behind his head and legs stretched out in front of him like he owned the place.

"I'd offer breakfast, but I worked all night and have to work again soon, so," she paused, dropping her keys on the kitchen counter and turning toward Dallas. "Make it quick, whatever it is. I need the meager hour of sleep I'll get."

"You didn't respond to my text," Dallas said, planting his feet flat against the ground and standing, turning to face Mila. He brought one knee up on the cushion and grasped the back of the couch.

He was trying to be intimidating and Mila recognized that, but she wasn't going to give him the benefit of believing he could get to her. He did get to her, she was nervous, but he didn't need to know that. It would only give him more power.

"I did respond to your text," she said, brows furrowing.

"Right. Yeah, no, see," he said, clicking his tongue and sighing. "I don't count it as responding unless it's you agreeing to do what I asked."

"I can't," Mila said simply. "I'm-"

"Taking a month off in a couple weeks to drive your sister, blah, blah, I don't care," he shrugged, pushing off the couch and circling around it. "You're not taking a month off. Terry is more than capable of driving her on his own. You're going to stay here and do what I asked you to do."

"Actually, I'm not," Mila said, narrowing her eyes. "So if that's all," she said, gesturing to the front door. "You can see yourself out."

"Actually, you are," Dallas said, walking up to her and smiling. "And you'll see me out. After we settle this."

"It's pretty damn settled, Dallas," Mila clipped, her hand tightening on the taser. "I'm not asking for your permission, nor do I need to give you warning since I don't work for you," she reminded him. "That was a courtesy. You really didn't have to come all the way over here to thank me for the courtesy. You could've just called, texted, sent a fruit basket, whatever."

Dallas chuckled and stepped closer to Mila so they were almost touching, staring down at her in amusement. "You have barely changed since elementary school, Mimi. You know that?"

"Says the guy who is throwing a tantrum because he's not getting his way," Mila said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Mmm, yeah," he sighed, scratching the back of his head. "That's true. I don't really like not getting my way. Which is why I'm surprised you still seem to think you get to call the shots, because like it or not, Mimi," he said, brushing his hand down, pushing his jacket back and revealing the gun in the holster on his hip. "You do work for me. You have for months. You get me what I need, I pay you, we have a mutually beneficial relationship. Now, if that's not going to stay mutually beneficial, then you'll see a lot more than a tantrum."

"Jesus, Dallas, it's one fucking month," Mila said, rolling her eyes. She wanted to act nonchalant, like the gun wasn't intimidating, but it was. It wasn't because she was afraid he'd kill her, that would actually work out well so Stella could get more money for better care. What she was afraid of was him not killing her and instead, doing something worse. Being locked in a cell and tortured or having her sister become a target were things she was much more concerned with than dying. "My sister is really sick."

"Yeah, and last I checked, she's not your responsibility. Terry signed himself up for that shit, so he does have to drive her to Chicago. You don't."

"It's my sister," she repeated.

"I don't give a fuck," Dallas shrugged.

"Oh, look at that, I don't give a fuck what you say either," Mila said with a light smile. "Guess neither of us have any fucks left to give, so we should leave it at that," she said, gesturing to the door.

"Mila, I'm not asking you," Dallas said, the amusement fading. "I'm telling you you're not going, you're staying to take care of the shit I told you to take care of."

"And I'm telling you it'll still be here when I get back," Mila countered.

"I'm not waiting that long."

"Really?" Mila asked, frowning. "So you have someone else that's going to do it for you? Since I'm definitely not unless it's after I take care of my sister? Awesome. Then there's no problem."

Dallas chuckled, shaking his head. "I've always loved your crazy sense of humor, Mimi, but you're pushing a little too far. I wouldn't keep going if I were you."

"Why? What happens if she keeps going?"

Mila kept the sigh of relief as quiet as possible when she saw Marcus standing behind Dallas, arms crossed and looking pissed off. There was something about his pissed off expression she hated to admit, did things to her. But it did. And he essentially always looked pissed off. It was a real problem for her.

Dallas rolled his eyes and turned, ready to tell whoever it was to fuck off, but upon turning, he was caught off guard by the fact he, being taller than a lot of people, still had to look up at the person who spoke.

Marcus towered over him with an unfriendly glare. Wordlessly, Marcus set his hand on Dallas's shoulder and shoved him away from Mila, stepping closer to her and waiting for an answer from Dallas.

"Who the fuck is this?" Dallas asked, very deliberately setting his hands on his hips and brushing back the jacket to show the gun on him.

"Funny, I was just going to ask her that same question about you," Marcus said, eyeing the gun for an extended period so Dallas would know he saw it. "Shitty choice."

"What?" Dallas asked, narrowing his eyes.

"The gun," Marcus clarified. "Shitty choice, but then again, I prefer revolvers. I don't know why, I just figure if you're going to shoot someone," he said, taking a step closer to Dallas. "Might as well do it in style."

"Mimi," Dallas said, not taking his eyes off Marcus, uncertain if it was wise to start something with him right now without backup. He couldn't tell if Marcus was bluffing about the gun and it wasn't a chance he was willing to take. "I want my shit taken care of."

"It'll happen after my trip," Mila said simply.

"No trip," Dallas clipped, tearing his eyes away from Marcus to glare at her. "Don't make me keep saying the same shit."

"If anything, I get the impression you're the one making her repeat herself," Marcus said, stepping to the side to block Dallas's view to Mila. "She's going on the trip, and you're not going to give her anymore shit about it. Understood?"

"What the fuck you think you're gonna do about-" Dallas started, reaching for his gun but Marcus grabbed it first, took out the ammo and disassembled the entire thing, dropping the pieces on the floor.

"I said," Marcus said, narrowing his eyes at Dallas. "She's going on the trip, and you're not going to give her anymore shit about it. Did you get it this time? I hope so because I won't continue repeating myself."

Dallas held Marcus's gaze for a moment before crouching down and grabbing the pieces of his gun. He hated to admit there was something about the guy that made him want to take a step back. Once he got his stuff, he sent Mila a glare. "This isn't over."

He made his way to the door and Marcus kept his eyes on Dallas but turned his head slightly to speak to Mila. "Who is this?"

"The guy I do illegal shit for sometimes," Mila said quietly.

Marcus sighed internally but let it go for the moment. "You let him in here?"

"No, he was here when I got home from my graveyard shift," she explained as Dallas went out the door. "I don't know how he got in."

"I see," Marcus said, his eyes glowing red for a moment before he made his way to the door. "Be right back."

"Hey, what are you going to do?" Mila asked.

Marcus didn't answer, just passed through the door and found Dallas headed down the stairs, muttering angrily as he put his gun back together. Dallas wasn't quite finished with his gun when he reached the bottom of the stairs but didn't have a chance to finish because then he was pushed against the wall. "I don't appreciate the little threat at the end there, so let me make something clear," Marcus said, grabbing Dallas's collar in his hand and lifting him off the ground, shoving him against the wall again, making Dallas's eyes go wide. "It is over. She will not do anything you ask her to that she doesn't want to. You will respect her trip and her time off, and you will not ever fucking step foot in that apartment again without her permission. Do I need to repeat that one or did you get it this time?"

"Who the fuck are you?" Dallas spat, struggling to break free of Marcus's grip but nothing he did seemed to matter. Marcus didn't budge.

"I'm no one as long as you don't try to push Mila around," Marcus said, lifting Dallas by his collar even higher, until they were eye to eye. "But if you try to, then consider me your worst fucking nightmare."

Marcus dropped Dallas to the cold cement and Dallas groaned at the impact. He looked up, ready to pull out his knife, but he was alone. "What the fuck?" he whispered, looking up the stairs but not seeing a single trace of the guy who just threatened him.

Mila was peering out the window, hoping she could see what the hell was going on. She took it as a good sign she couldn't hear yelling or gunshots.

"Why does he call you 'Mimi'?"

Mila jumped and screamed, setting her hand on her chest before turning slowly to Marcus, smacking his chest. "I am jumpy, dude. Dallas was just in my apartment without a fucking key," she said, gesturing to the door. "Do not sneak up on me!"

Marcus shrugged, raising an eyebrow. "Mimi?"

"It was my childhood nickname, okay?" Mila sighed, leaning back against the wall and yawning. "It was dumb. Very few people still call me that."

"This motherfucker is from your childhood?" Marcus frowned.

"It's a small town," Mila shrugged. "What'd you do?"

"I told him to leave you alone," Marcus said simply.

Mila stared at him a minute, not believing it. She didn't doubt he told Dallas to leave her alone, she just doubted those were the words he used. Regardless, she had even less time to sleep and shower so she shook her head and brushed it off. "Whatever, thank you for scaring him off. I only get barely over an hour to sleep before the law firm, I gotta take the world's fastest shower and get to bed."

"Was that an invitation?" Marcus asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mila's face and body both heated at the comment and she pursed her lips together in an attempt to seem unaffected. "Did you miss the part where I said it has to be the world's fastest shower and I only barely get an hour of sleep?"

"No," Marcus shrugged. "I just think you underestimate how fast I can be."

"Jesus," Mila whispered, then immediately regretted that it slipped because the smirk on Marcus's face had her growing even warmer.

"Really, truly, definitely not Jesus."

"Okay, yeah, I'm gonna just go," she said, sidestepping him. "If I don't get at least an hour of sleep, I'll pass out at work and get fired and I really need the money."

"Rain check, then," Marcus commented as she passed by.

Mila was determined to not let him have the last word so turned to face him but he was already gone. She let out a little groan of frustration and moved towards the bathroom, wondering how in the hell he got her all riled up when she was so exhausted. Apparently not exhausted enough. The shower could be slightly longer because she suddenly felt the urge to use that shower head again.