Page 21 of Claimed By my Fake Husband

But there's the problem, isn't it.

Tess and I blurred that line almost immediately. After years of keeping myself locked down—never too close, never too involved, not with clients, not with anyone.

And look at me now.

This is a mess. We need to reset, start over, if we're going to work as a team.

And whatever this is between us has to stay strictly platonic.

No matter what the rest of me thinks about that. My feelings don't matter. The connection doesn't matter. What matters is keeping Tess alive.

We reach the safe house, and I check the perimeter twice before I let her go inside—make sure we weren't followed, that the place is still secure, that nothing's tripped the system.

It's late. Past three in the morning. I know she wants nothing more than to fall into bed.

But we need to get one thing straight first. Tonight was a mistake, and it can't happen again.

My job is to keep her alive, and if that means laying down the law, so be it.

She might hate it. She'll hate a bullet in the skull a lot more.

Once we're both inside and the house is locked down, I stop her before she can start up the stairs.

"Hey." She turns, still perched on the bottom step, which puts her eye to eye with me. "You cannot do that again. Every decision, every meeting, every piece of information—it comesthrough me first. I'm your handler while you're in witness protection. I need you to remember that."

"I'm tired, Logan. I want to go to bed. Enjoy the couch." She crosses her arms, chin lifted, like she knows this isn't over. "Thank you for handling Andrew. We can talk about the rest in the morning."

Frustration boils up fast. Tess is smart—we both know it—but right now she's being reckless, and I need her to understand that, one way or another.

"Ms. Beaumont." My voice drops low, seething. "Youwilllisten to me. So help me. Is that understood?"

8

Tess

I'm being a little childish. I know that. But I just had a gun in my face—Logan won't let me forget it—and I am wrecked.

No sleep plus a near-death experience does not make for a happy Tess.

I hate this. I trusted someone, and he betrayed me. My work, the thing I love more than anything, is in danger.

I'm in danger.

Everything feels like it's crumbling, and having some buff ex-military bodyguard get in my face about it, like he has any idea how hard this is for me, isn't helping.

"No. It's not understood, you jerk. I'm paying you to do this, and I hate to be a 'Karen,' but I can find another bodyguard." My voice cracks, and I hate that it does. "Do you have any idea what this has been like for me? I'm terrified and alone in this. It's not like I have someone I can talk to about being in witness protection."

My throat burns. I hate crying in front of him. It makes me feel weak, like I'm not the tough reporter I think I am.

"I know it was a risk, but?—"

"A huge risk, Tess. What if I hadn't gotten there in time?"

The worry in Logan's eyes is the only thing keeping me from snapping at him. I drop my head and suck in a shaky breath.

"Fine. A huge risk. But I refuse to hide in a corner like everyone else. Cilento's family has done awful things. They have to be held accountable. For everyone he's hurt. For every woman he silenced before me—violently, and for good."

Logan steps forward, catching my hand when I try to pull away. "Why does it have to be you?"