She jerks her wrist from my grip and slides into the car without looking back.
"Figure it out on my own," I mutter. I pull my phone from my pocket, my fingers flying across the screen. I pull up the GPS tracker that’s on the car, and the little red dot on the map is already moving. I climb into my own car and follow them.
After a couple of minutes, it’s apparent where she’s headed, but I decide to follow anyway. I made it a point to remain in the shadows when I watched over her. That stops today.
I arrive at the location, the warehouse turned gun range that’s owned by the Korolovs. I’ve visited this place a few times, not only for the secret torture dungeon that’s hidden underground, but I also like to keep up my shooting skills. Even though I prefer hand-to-hand combat.
As I step into the room, I find Veronica standing with Serena and Felix. The look on Princesa’s face is priceless: complete, stunned disbelief. Serena remains nonchalant; she already knows who I am since Ian showed her one of the rare photos of me after he got into trouble. Felix, however, doesn't seem surprised at all, as if he’d been expecting me. You can never tell what’s up his sleeve. That’s why he’s so fucking dangerous.
“What the hell are you doing here, Miles?” Veronica seethes, the words coming out as a sharp, low hiss.
I’m indifferent. “Well, I figured I’d go for a drive. Take the scenic route.”
My eyes shift to Serena. She’s just standing there, her hand wrapped around a handgun, no doubt ready to shoot me.
“The more the merrier.” Felix’s voice cuts through the tension, smooth and unbothered.
The women look at him, but his gaze remains on me, a mocking glint in his eyes.
“What?” he says, gesturing toward the weapon in Serena's hand. “We’re here to teach Vee how to use a gun. She might find the motivation for a better aim with him here.”
Asshole.
“Fine,” the girls say in unison.
After two hours of gun lessons, it’s clear that guns are not for Veronica. She has horrible aim. More than once, I genuinely thought the only way she would hit something was if I was the target. That would probably serve as motivation. We all agreed that she needs a different kind of weapon. Something that doesn't need perfect aim.
While the girls chat about Serena and Ian’s upcoming engagement party, a spectacle Ian is using to mark his territory, I drift toward a wall showcasing a collection of bows and arrows. I catch Felix moving out of the corner of my eye.
“Why now?” he asks.
I know exactly what he’s digging for. “Because she knows who I am.”
“Does she now?” His tone is pure sarcasm. “You’ve watched and protected her from afar for years, Miles. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. I know where this is going, and you need to stop it. I don’t give a shit about you. I give a shit about her.”
He steps closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous level. “When she finds out what the family has been keeping from her—whatyouhavebeen keeping from her, regardless of whether it’s yourjob—she won’t forgive you.”
“Who the fuck are you to say anything to me?” I snap back.
“I’m the man who knows how dark your secrets are,” Felix says in that matter-of-fact tone of his. “Remember, she deserves better than the monsters we are.” Then he walks away. “I’ll take her home,” he yells over his shoulder.
Felix’s words echo in my mind as I drive back home. They echo for days. I hate to admit it, but I know he’s right. I need to back off and start putting distance between us. I need to find out who sent her the photographs and have her move on from all of this.
Miles
Chapter 26
The last week hasbeen minimal contact with Veronica. The project’s communication has resorted to emails. My resolve broke today when I saw her heading to the kickboxing class; she was happy and smiling. Jealousy reared its ugly head, and I had to find out who or what was the reason for her mood.
I decide to take a class. Do I need it? No. Is my possessive alpha showing? Yes. Do I hate myself for it? No. I enter the gym and walk over to the front desk. This is a very spur-of-the-moment decision, and I don’t do spur-of-the-moment. Every movement I make is planned and thought through; it’s one of the many reasons why I’m sought after for my job. This is giving me anxiety.
"Hello, I’m here to take a class," I tell the woman, who I recognize as Annie.
"Well, we’re at capacity, but I’m sure we can squeeze you in." She starts to type on her computer. "Let’s get some of your information. Name?"
"Miles Villanueva."
She stops mid-word and looks at me with an inquisitive face. "So, you’re the bodyguard?"
