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Now I felt like a shit. I’d broken far too many cardinal rules that every security agent was required to memorize. One of the most basic was to provide a dedicated phone line by use of a burner phone for every single client. It didn’t matter if they remained within our sight almost the entire time. Often abductions were handled just outside restrooms. While I’d left my phone number, I hadn’t awakened her to retrieve hers. Given her independent streak, I had a feeling that her only use of the number would be in a dire emergency.
She was likely furious that I hadn’t followed through with the timeline I’d laid out on my note.
I’d already seen her temper level. Still, I yanked my weapon into both hands, releasing the safety. If there was a single chance the system had been breached, her life in danger, I refused to allow anything to happen to her. I carefully walked through the house, ending up just outside the guestroom. The door was partially cracked and I could swear I heard music coming from somewhere.
I pushed it open with my fingers, waiting for a few seconds before moving inside. Her suitcase was on the middle of the bed, open with clothes tugged and tossed across the surface. Other items had been placed on the dresser, almost as if she’d been in a hurry. I glanced toward the closed bathroom door, realizing the sound I’d heard was coming from inside.
Exhaling, I lowered my weapon, noticing an easel on the other side of the room, a small canvas positioned in the center, paints placed on a small foldup table beside it. Confident she was safe, I walked in the direction. Then I stared at the painting.
It was a display of incredible talent, the artist rendering something I could envision in a museum or upscale art gallery.
And the selection she’d been working on?
She’d painted a picture of me.
Shit. This was going to get out of hand quickly.
* * *
Madisen
I hadn’t heard a single additional sound other than the music playing through my AirPods. But I’d known someone was in the house. I’d sensed his presence the moment he’d walked into the room. Was it possible I’d caught a whiff of his intoxicating aftershave?
This time the connection had been different, as if in learning about the danger I was in, he’d accepted the role of protector. That had somehow tethered us together, the electricity as dazzling as if occurring in a wondrous thunderstorm, bolts of lightning jetting across the sky in shades of neon blue and violet.
My thoughts were as ridiculous as the fantasy I’d once had, but the way my stomach did flipflops, I knew I was right. For the last four and a half years, I’d worked on self-improvement, honing both my body and my mind. I’d squirreled away cash and several paintings in hopes of convincing a gallery owner to show my work. Everything was about to come crashing down around me, yet my thoughts were jumbled because of a single man.
Unacceptable.
However, as I opened the door, it was the first time since seeing the horrible incident that I wasn’t afraid. My stomach did flipflops when I realized he was looking at my painting. I’d intended on tossing a towel over it when it was dry to the touch, but in my fury over Viper being late, I’d added additional swirls of color, attempting to make it even more realistic.
I don’t know what sparked me to paint a portrait of the man I didn’t know any longer other than he’d remained on my mind all day, the long hours becoming lonely. I was used to being alone, what few friends I had working normal hours while I worked the graveyard shift. But being in a house that wasn’t mine in a city that wasn’t home was on another level.
He seemed intrigued or he was pissed off. I wasn’t certain.
I refused to be embarrassed, needing to blow off tension and control the heebie-jeebies that had remained with me. Painting was the only thing that was completely mine, allowing me freedom of the mind and soul. Whether or not he liked it was of no concern.
I leaned against the doorjamb, noticing he had his gun in his hand. A cold shiver drifted down my spine, a reminder that the danger was one hundred percent real and something I couldn’t take lightly.
While I remained quiet as a church mouse, he seemed to sense my presence too, every muscle in his body tensing before he turned around. And when he did, the man standing in front of me took my breath away.
Whereas I’d seen him in a filthy tee shirt before, splotches of dirt on his face, the man standing in front of me reminded me of the photographs in glossy magazines I’d cut into little ribbons after studying them for several minutes. He was positively gorgeous, although his eyes captured the same concern I’d seen the night before.
The waning light in the room cast a shadow across a portion of his face, yet it accentuated his angular jaw on another, the two-day stubble adding to his dangerous persona. The dark suit was perfectly tailored, the white shirt and bold red tie meant to intimidate anyone who got in his way. His hair was styled, yet all I could think about was running my fingers through the thick curls.
It was absolute madness.
He said nothing for a few seconds, studying me intently as if he’d never seen me before. Yes, in my hurry to grab whatever clothes I could get my hands on, I’d managed to snag two dresses, both much dressier than he’d ever seen me in. The one I was wearing was red, a stark contrast to the ugliness of the jeans and shirt I’d been wearing before. I’d be lying to myself if I whispered the thought that I hadn’t done it on purpose.
I’d wanted to see his reaction. While he tried to remain expressionless, the look of worry in his eyes quickly shifted to something raw and unbridled, his gaze explosive as he slowly lowered it all the way to my bare feet.
And it took my breath away, butterflies threatening to take over my stomach. I’d never experienced having anyone look at me with such intensity, a need that would most certainly not be denied. Correction. That had happened once in what seemed like a lifetime ago. I never thought it would happen again.
I was trembling, my throat tightening, and I had no idea what to say to him. None. The anger toward him remained, but I was grateful he’d taken me seriously. I needed to squash the nasty attitude. That wasn’t fair.
“I… made dinner. But you were late. I think I saved everything though. I’ll clean up the kitchen. I was just… Well, I was frustrated. Shame on me. Maybe you’re hungry? I mean, maybe you decided to go out with your girlfriend after work. I shouldn’t have assumed but I thought… I was just…” I’d never been tongue-tied in my entire life. No, that was just another lie I was attempting to convince myself was the truth.
Oh, my God. I sounded like an idiot.
