“It’s okay.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know.”
I did know. I knew Jackson was just fucking around. It had been five years since Alyssa was shot on our watch, but I was determined to never let it happen again. I needed to teach Autumn how to shoot her gun properly.
“Autumn bought a gun,” I said, changing the subject.
“No shit?”
“Let’s teach her how to use it properly.”
“I like your thinking. I’ve been dying to shoot something.”
“Me, too,” I agreed.
When I was a kid, I’d visit my grandparents in Tennessee at their ranch, and my grandpa would take me into the backyard to shoot cans. I never thought that I’d want to fire a gun again after leaving the army.
But shooting was in my blood.
I hadn’t been this happy in a very long time. Sure I was fighting with myself to hold back my feelings for Autumn. She was married and I’d only known her for four days. And I knew there was no way in hell she’d be okay with my profession.
Just like the day before, I found Autumn running on the treadmill when Paul and I arrived at Club 24.
“Hey,” I greeted her, stepping onto the treadmill beside her.
“Hey.” She frowned.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, increasing the speed to a brisk walk.
She looked around the gym, probably searching for the so-called spies. “Meet me in our spot in a few minutes. If it’s taken, I’ll find an empty one.” She stopped the treadmill and then started to walk toward the racquetball courts.
Out of habit, I looked around the massive gym wondering if I could spot the “spies”. I didn’t see anyone who looked as if they could kick my ass and I didn’t see anyone who I recognized from being at both Club 24 and Starbucks—not that I was looking before. I made a mental note to start looking. After all, I was about to become a bodyguard for Autumn.
A few minutes later, I stopped my treadmill and went to find Autumn. I found her in a different court than the day before. She was sitting on the floor on the right side with her legs bent and her arms wrapped around them as she lay her head on her knees.
“What’s the matter, angel? Did he hit you again?” I asked, sitting next to her.
She looked at me barely lifting her head. “He doesn’t hit me, he just grabs me and … no.”
“Okay.” I brushed a piece of her hair from her eyes. “So why aren’t you smiling today?”
“He didn’t come home last night.”
“Hmmm … Do you know where he was?”
She sighed and lifted her head. Leaning against the wall, knees still bent, she answered, “He said he was at work. He’sneverworked overnight.”
“So … you think he’s cheating on you?”
Her eyes widened. “Maybe.”
“All right. Well … don’t take this the wrong way, but why do you care? You want to leave him, right?” I matched the way she was sitting with my head turned toward her.
“Yes, but if I would have known …”
I smirked. “Then you wouldn’t have stopped our kiss yesterday?”
