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“I saw another black car when I was getting the takeout. I’m kind of worried about it now, especially after you told me that you’d seen it a few times around our building. Shay said the number plate from the diner was a stolen New York plate. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just don’t know what to do anymore. I think we need to either keep moving towards Atlanta or head home, but we can’t stay here tonight. I also don’t want to ruin this holiday for you. I’m so sorry,” he says, sounding exasperated. He sits down on the side of the bed, putting his head in his hands.
I walk over and kneel in front of him on the floor. I can see how torn up he is about this. I pull his hands away from his face and using my hand to lift his gaze to mine. His eyes are wet with unshed tears, making them look like the bluest ocean. I swallow down the lump in my throat which threatens to spill out. I can’t cry. Brax needs me to be strong. He’s been so strong for me, now I need to return the favor.
“Babe, whatever you think is the right thing to do, we’ll do it. As long as I have you, I don’t care where we go or what we do. You’re all I need.” I whisper the last bit, a lone tear rolling down my cheek. He leads forward and kisses the tear away; I almost melt on the spot.
“Right. Okay,” he says, rising to his feet. It seems like my little pep talk has worked wonders. “I think we need to head home, at least then we can try and figure this out.” I nod my head and kiss him hard on his closed mouth before pulling away.
He smiles back at me.
“What was that for, sweetheart?”
“Just for being you. I know you’d never let anything happen to me,” I reply.
“Not on my life, baby.”
We check out of the B&B and fill up with gas before heading back home. I send Shay a text while Elle is inside paying the attendant.
Brax: Heading home. Leaving Richmond now.
Shay: Best thing I’ve heard all day. See you tomorrow.
Brax: Roger that.
We drive all through the night and we arrive home around 5 a.m. We park up in Elle’s parking space under the building and grab our bags to head inside.
When we reach the top flight of stairs leading to our apartment, I see the front door slightly ajar. I quickly put my arm out in front of Elle to stop her from getting any closer.
“Wait here, hon. I need to make sure it is safe,” I whisper in her ear. She pulls me back to her, glaring at me like I’m a maniac.
“We should call the cops,” she whispers.
“I’ll be fine. Just don’t move unless I tell you to, okay?” I plead, looking at her scared face.
“Be careful,” I hear her say as she leans in and kisses my cheek. Damn, she’s sweet. Scared as hell and still thinking of my safety.
I walk forward, silently kicking myself that I’m unarmed right now but it’s impossible to wear a piece when Elle’s around. That would definitely make her suspicious. I reach the door and listen for any movement inside. When I don’t hear anything, I slowly push the door open and quietly step inside. Looking around our living room I can’t see anything out of place, except for a six foot blonde guy I know oh so well, sound asleep on the couch. Damn, Shay! Almost gave me a freaking heart attack.
I go back into the lobby to let Elle know it’s okay to come in. She starts giggling when she sees Shay hanging off our couch and she makes me start laughing, too. He has a line of drool coming from his mouth; he is so getting shit for that when he wakes up. After locking the front door, we take our bags in to our bedroom and collapse on the bed. I’m going to kick Shay’s ass when we wake up.
We get out of bed around 11 a.m. and find Shay sitting on the couch, eating some toast.
“Make yourself at home, man,” I mutter, making my way towards the coffeemaker. He looks at me and grins.
“You always were a grumpy shit in the mornings, even in the Army,” he adds, laughing at his own joke. “Bet you wondered why the door was open, brother.”
“Ha, ha. Yeah, real funny, bro. What the hell?” I reply, glaring at him.
Elle steps in, pretending to referee. “C’mon, boys. It’s okay.” We both look at her and crack up laughing, which makes her giggle.
“What’s so funny?” she says, trying to keep a straight face.
“You are, darlin,” I say, giving her a quick peck on the head when I walk past.
“Anyway, enough of your squabbling. I’m going to have a shower,” she adds, giving me a kiss and a sneaky ass grope before walking off towards the bathroom.
“Need any help?” I murmur as she leaves. She responds with a wink and walks off with an extra swing of her hips. Damn, now all I can think about is shower sex with Elle. Shit!
After hearing the water go on in the bathroom and willing my body back under control, Shay and I go straight into business talk.
“Here’s the note.”
I pull the note from Richmond out of my pocket. Thankfully Elle is still unaware of its existence.
“I’m really worried about this,” I say as Shay looks it over.
“This ain’t good, B. This seems personal, not about the business at all. I’m thinking we need to put the heat on Brimstone. He’s the original threat so we have to assume he’s behind this, that’s what our intel suggests, anyway,” he says, matter-of-factly.
“Or he could be getting Evans to do his dirty work which would also fit, but why would he send someone all the way to Richmond?” I muse, thinking out loud like Shay & I always do. It’s just normally we’re not in the same house as the target.
I walk into the kitchen after my shower, wearing a pair of yoga pants and one of Brax’s t-shirts. I love the fact that I have free reign over his shirts now that he’s living with me. Walking through the living room I head for the door, telling the boys that I’m just going to check the mail as I walk past. They nod and continue talking about some football game that’s coming up.
Reaching the bottom floor of my building, I grab my key and unlock my mailbox. I look out the front doors out of habit and sure enough, a few spaces down is the same black car from the diner in Virginia. It has even got a smattering of dust around the underside of the doors. Having a minor lapse of judgment, I head out the glass front doors towards him. I’m sick of this guy following us everywhere. I want to do something to finish this once and for all.
I start striding towards his car, my mail still tightly clutched in my hand. I try to get a good look at him. He’s a pale, measly looking guy with white blonde hair and wide blue eyes that watch me as I get closer to him. The look on his face is really unnerving, like he is staring straight through me. He looks creepy, but I’m so angry at him that I’m not scared at all. He definitely doesn’t look like a photographer or journalist, but these days you can never tell because there are freelancers everywhere. For all I know, they could be getting ready to publish a story about the reclusive heiress and her new live-in lover. It would not surprise me one bit.
