“If you are going to hook up, can you at least wait until after your shift? We’re getting slammed in there.” He directs all his hostility at me, which hurts more than anything.
“Mmm . . .” Nino moans in my ear. “I love the idea of hooking up.” He slides his hand under my shirt and grabs my breast. Disgusted, I stab my cigarette into his neck, and he jerks back.
“Feisty tonight.” He snaps his jaw at me like a dog. “I like that.” He places his hand over the burn. “See ya around, sweetheart.” I inwardly cringe as he walks away.
I inhale a few quick, choppy breaths before I return inside, slipping by a glaring Philly without a word. I have gone from feeling light and airy to as heavy as a weathered stone. I feel the heat of Philly’s body radiating behind me, but he doesn’t say a word as we walk back into the busy café. Neither do I. Nothing needs to be said. I just pick up my tray and work the rest of the night as if nothing happened, counting down the minutes until I’m with CJ again.
I TEXT JETT TO LEThim know I am staying.
Me: extending
Jett: no surprise
No surprise?
Arrogant prick thinks he can see through everyone.
I snicker to myself.
Arrogant prick can.
There’s a knock on my hotel room door. The room I previously had was already booked so they had to change me to a different suite. A bigger, nicer, and way more expensive suite. That’s what my dumbass gets for not thinking things through—or way overthinking things. I’m not exactly sure which got me into this situation—with the room and with Tara—but I’m here now and I’m going to ride it out.
“It’s open! Come in!” I yell from the very large living room. The panoramic windows in front of me have half of Manhattan on a showy display. “You’re a trusting man.” Slade walks in dressed casually in jeans, a thick sweatshirt, and black baseball cap pulled low.
“I knew it was you.” I put my phone down on the sleek, smoky coffee table. I like the luxury, but I don’t need it.
“Did my knock give me away?” He plops down on themaroon leather sofa. The shit’s so comfortable you could live on it.
“No, your cryptic text ‘Leave the door open’ is what gave you away.”
“That was pretty cryptic,” he says slickly as he makes himself at home, crossing his ankle over his knee.
“Are you tracking my cell phone or something?” I ask. “You seem to know where I am at all times.”
“You know I can’t share trade secrets.”
“I know better than anyone. Just don’t keep too close tabs. My bosses won’t like it.”
“Noted.” He nods, but he’s not intimidated one bit. Slade doesn’t care about my bosses. He doesn’t care about anyone really. He’s a Lone Ranger. Always has been. Even when we were serving, he was a rebel. Only fell in line because he was forced, not because he wanted to. But as much of a recluse as he is, there is no one else I would want fighting by my side. He’s smart, he’s cunning, and he has a bit of a bloodthirsty edge. In battle, that is an invaluable attribute. Especially when your helicopter goes down in the middle of the desert. He pulled me from the burning debris while I was unconscious. Dragged me two and a half miles in the blistering sun to a nearby Afghani town and kept me safe until a convoy arrived to scoop us up. I don’t remember much, but there were a series of moments when I was in and out of consciousness. When Slade had his gun drawn ready to kill anyone who came near us. Luckily, he was able to find us a hiding place with the help of some sympathetic locals.
A bond develops when you go through something like that. I owe him my life, and I’ll be indebted to him forever, even if he doesn’t see it that way. Even if he just thinks he was doing his job, he’s the reason I’m sitting here. He’s the reason I have a career I love and am able to indulge in a woman unparalleled to any other.
“So, now that your business trip has been extended, will I see you tomorrow night?” He cuts to the chase.
“Is that what this visit is about?”
“Partly.” He smiles shrewdly under the brim of his hat. “Partly because it’s been a long time since I’ve been in the company of someone I actually like.”
“Well, in that case . . .” I slap my knee and stand up to pour two drinks from the bar. “You get your drinking buddy for a few more days.”
“I’ll take what I can get.” I hear the uplift in his voice.
I hand him a hefty shot of scotch, and we clink glasses.
“Any break in your missing girl?”
“Nah, cold cases are a tougher nut to crack.”
