Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“I know that she should never be allowed to fly around the country alone when someone is making threats against her,” I say a little too loudly.
Banks’s eyes go wide.
“She wasn’t alone. She was with Jason. And let me remind you that Jason isn’t a normal civilian. He’s as trained as you are. He’s as capable of protecting his sister as any of us, and he took responsibility today. He called Dominic off.”
“You’re dropping the ball, Landry.”
There’s a moment of silence—long enough for me to try to regain my composure.
I kick myself for getting too close to Bianca in the first place. I kick myself harder for not being able to handle it. I bust my ass for asking for the detail transfer and allowing these assholes to leave her in harm’s way.
I fucked this all the way up.
“Foxx?” Landry asks. “Are you okay?”
I tug at my hair with my free hand. “I’m fine. I’m … fine.” I blow out a breath and drop my hand to my side.
“Bianca is with you now, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Is that okay with you? If not, I can send someone—”
“I wouldn’t advise it,” I say through clenched teeth.
The door slams. I jump just in time to see Banks jetting down the porch.
“I have a call with Jason this evening,” Landry says. “I’ll confirm that you’re to remain with Bianca.”
“It’s confirmed.”
Papers shuffle in the background. “We have a conference call tomorrow morning at nine. I’ll have a link sent to your email.”
“Fine.”
“Okay.” He pauses. “I know you’re frustrated. I know you had this thrown into your lap today. But I also know how much Jason respects you and appreciates your loyalty.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me.
No one understands the bond that Jason and I share—not even Landry. He knows that Jason and I both worked for Fenton Abbott at Mandla and were on the same rescue mission in Africa. But what Landry doesn’t know, that no one knows, is that Jason saved my life that night.
And I’ll never forget it.
“Jason asked that you be appointed the lead on Bianca’s detail if you want it …”
He did? I suck in a breath.
Bianca is sitting in my house a stone’s throw away, and her entire security plan is being thrust into my lap. Things will have to be strictly professional between us—no matter what.
Can I do this? Can I do this with her in my home? Can I trust myself to stay focused on the task at hand and not her?
But as I think about it and weigh the pros and cons, it becomes apparent that there’s really only one choice. Because if I don’t do it, I’ll be distracted anyway, wondering if the threat against her has escalated. I’ll be of no use to anyone. Hell, I’ll be the weak link.
I can’t risk that.
Especially now I’ve breathed the same air as Bianca again.
No, I won’t risk that.
“Let’s talk about it tomorrow,” Landry says. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you at nine.”
“Goodbye.”
“Goodbye,” he says, ending the call.
The weight of the world settles on my shoulders as I stare out the window toward my house.
Earlier, I was wrong.
Today could get worse.
And it did.
It sure fucking did.
CHAPTER 5
Bianca
Don’t be nosy. Don’t be nosy. Don’t be nosy.
I frown.
But I really want to be nosy.
The house is absolutely silent. It’s not uncomfortable or eerie like my house can be at certain times of the day. If I hadn’t designed and built it, I would’ve sworn someone was murdered in the guest room downstairs. I have to pass it to reach the kitchen at night for a snack, and I’ve almost tripped more than once after a few glasses of wine in my attempt to reach the pantry without getting attacked by ghosts.
I stroll through Foxx’s “unhaunted” kitchen and poke my head into the living room.
Oh, very nice. A large plant has been placed beside a picture window. There are two brown leather chairs with a small table between them. The sofa is made of the same material and houses three large fluffy pillows in various shades of blue. The hue picks up the colors in a painting hanging above the fireplace.
Everything about Foxx’s house is cozy.
My friends always joked that I lived in a museum because everything was for show, not for use. There were busts of poets, signed first editions of books, and vases from my parents’ trips around the world that were worth far more to them than the sculptures my brothers and I made in elementary school for Mother’s Day. As I’ve grown older, I’ve realized that my home feels quite the same as theirs. It’s beautiful and tasteful. Very elegant—except for the ghosts. But it’s also cold and hollow—probably because of the ghosts. It probably doesn’t help that I’m almost never there.
I sit on the couch and rest my head against a soft pillow. I check my texts to see if there have been any updates at home.