Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
This confession, that I’m what shatters his control, steals my heart all over again. “I don’t want you to be okay with me and another man. I just want you to understand how I felt.”
“I do understand, and I’m fucking sorry a hundred times over. I’m going to protect you. I’m going to take care of this. I know I keep saying that, but it’s more than words, and I need you to believe I can make this right.”
“I do, but I also know that Smith can help. I trust him. Trust me, please. Trust me like you didn’t trust me when you held back, when you didn’t tell me who you really were. And, I met the Walker brothers who run the operation he works for; they’re good men.”
“Who think I’m a traitor.”
“Smith can convince them otherwise.”
“Why would Smith believe otherwise?”
“I’ll convince him. We’ll convince him.”
“If he crosses me,” he says tightly, “I might have to kill him. I don’t know if you can live with that as easily as I would.”
“I won’t have to,” I say. “You won’t kill him. You’ll make that promise to me now, before I call him.”
“If he risks your life with a stupid misplaced hero move, I’ll do what I have to do to protect you.”
“He won’t make a stupid move,” I assure him.
“Are you willing to bet his life on that?”
Chapter seventeen
Ashley
Am I willing to bet Smith’s life on how much I trust him? That question lingers in the air between myself and Aaron as I flashback to the past. To a night right after Aaron, Noah then, had disappeared, accused of betraying his country. I’d been devastated, and Smith had been the bodyguard assigned to me by Walker Security—the agency hired by my boss and friend, Cole Brooks. I’d been scared. I’d been heartbroken. Broken. I’d been broken in so many ways. I’d still been wearing the ring that is now in a safe deposit box locked away with my heart, right here in this very city.
The past…
Smith and I enter the downtown Manhattan building, complete with fancy tiled floors, a doorman, and only a few miles from my own apartment. I hug myself. “This is a pretty nice building for a safe house. Much nicer than the one we’ve been at the past few nights.”
“Because it’s my place,” he says, his hand settling on my back, awareness between me and this man that I don’t want to feel. I love Noah. I don’t want him to be who they say he is.
I rotate to face Smith. He’s good looking, not so unlike Noah, actually. Tall with brown hair, muscles, and dreamy eyes that speak of worlds of experience and even pain. But he’s not Noah.
“Smith,” I whisper, confused. “We’re—this can’t—we can’t—”
“We’re friends, Ashley. Just friends. And even that’s more than we should be. I brought you here for a reason. Walker Security operates in a building right across the street. The man you love is lethal. I need backup, and because I have it here, we’ll both sleep a little easier tonight.”
“You’re sure? I feel like this invades your privacy. This is your private space.”
“I’m sure.” He motions to the elevator, and I decide not to argue. I want to be safe, and Smith makes me feel safe. We head into the car, and once we’re there, I think of the history he’s shared with me. Ex-Special Forces, his family who died in a fire when he was a teen, and other little tidbits. I’ve learned these things about him in three days, or did I? I thought I knew Noah. But I knew nothing. I can feel the tears begin to prickle my eyes. I love Noah so damn much, but he wasn’t who I thought he was. I love a fantasy. I love a fictional character. Loved. I can’t love him. It’s all past tense.
The elevator dings, and it’s not long until I’m inside Smith’s loft-style apartment with brick walls, steel beams, and dark hardwoods beneath my feet. It’s a beautiful masculine home, but it’s not my home. I’ll never be able to go to my home again.
“Let me show you where the spare bedroom is,” Smith says, and I follow him down a narrow hallway.
“Bathroom to the right. That’s all yours.” He walks into an open door, and I enter a room that has no windows but manages to be cozy with a large bed, a black headboard, and two cozy chairs in a little reading nook. It’s the no windows that gets me. That’s why I’m here. No one can get to me without going through Smith. He sets my bag he’s holding on the bed. My bag with the few things I own right now inside.
“We’ll be here for at least a week,” Smith says. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow.”