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What I felt in that moment was more than I had for any man. Was it love? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t have a frame of reference outside of my family and Bailey. This was different. What I did know as we rocked together slowly and his tender kiss devoured any remnants of past pain was that we weren’t fucking. We were doing what I’d never done before—making love.Hours later, I woke alone. I faintly remember Striker drying me off and putting me to bed with a kiss to the top of my head. I felt happy. Like, really happy. Nothing could possibly go wrong. What’s more, I had dirty ideas about how we could use the lap pool.
My quest to find him came up empty. He wasn’t anywhere in the small house or outside. The views of both left no places to hide. I took the tunnel down the slippery rocks, rope in hand, and found him asleep on the boat. Striker was slumped on the sofa, looking ridiculously handsome.
I was about to give him a Lizzy special wakeup call when I noticed the odd-looking phone with a short antenna on the table before him. Before I could think it through, I snagged it. When he didn’t stir, I backtracked to the pier.
It could have been a walkie-talkie or a satellite phone. I prayed for the latter, though I didn’t expect it to work. When there was no request for a password, I dialed a number. The call went through, and I closed my eyes in relief.
“Hello.” The word was spoken in an almost whisper. I didn’t need more to recognize my brother’s voice.
“Matty.”
The pause was so long, I actually removed the phone from my ear to look at the display. The call was still active. When I put it back, my brother didn’t sound excited to hear from me.
“What have you done?”
“Mat—”
“I warned you to leave me be. Stay with your husband. I’m not interested.”
The line went dead. For a second, I didn’t recognize the object in my hand. I was smart enough to guess that I’d fucked things up.
Worse, when I glanced up, Striker was awake, and he didn’t look happy either. He walked over and took the phone. With a single motion, he broke the thing in half. I didn’t have time to wonder about his strength after seeing that. Then he tossed the broken pieces in the water and said, “We have to go.”
He moved quickly, and I had to chase him up the perilous walkway.
“What’s going on?” I asked, panic making the hairs rise on my arms.
“You’ve compromised us.”
Gone was the tenderness from earlier. His face was blank.
Out of fear came rage. “I know I messed up, but is leaving really necessary?”
He stopped and faced me, the door of the kitchen shutting behind us. “Your brother wasn’t happy to hear from you, was he?”
How did he know that was who I’d called? “How would you know?”
“We’ve spoken before.”
Surprise had my eyebrows shooting up. “When?”
“At the dress shop.”
Did he mean the day we got married? “Why?”
“It’s customary for the groom to ask the father to marry his daughter.” He spoke as if he’d been following a guide called What to Do When You Want to Get Married. “You didn’t want your father to know. I chose your brother instead.”
“You asked my brother to fake marry me?”
“Fake or not, I wanted to do it right.”
“He didn’t tell me,” I said, more to myself. Then again, my brother was the secretive type and would probably take most of his to his grave. The backs of my eyes burned with brimming emotions. “Asking my brother to marry me… the rings…”
How I’d misjudged Striker on every level.
“We don’t have time to talk about this now. Get your things.”
I scrambled away because I didn’t want Striker to see me cry again. I hadn’t cried this much over a guy since high school. My hormones had gone crazy.
There wasn’t a rush. I didn’t have much to pack as I hadn’t unpacked yet. When I got back to the main area, he was filling bags with food.
“Do you need some help?” I offered.
“Yes. Grab as much food as you can.”
I stopped myself from asking why. The man didn’t do things for no reason. Everything he did had purpose.
A whirring sound caught both of our attention.
He stood straight and commanded, “Stay here.”
I thought about apologizing again—because clearly this was my fault. With horror, I watched as Striker went to the door and pulled a gun that had been tucked in his waistband at his back. I hadn’t noticed it. Then a freaking drone dropped from the sky six feet in front of him. He aimed and fired and that was the end of that.
He didn’t waste time when he came back in. “Let’s go.”
