Page 61 of Jonesing for a Spy

“I’m old, Freckles. Give me this, at least today.”

“I will if you tell me about the bruises.” I try to keep my tone light, but there’s no denying I’m seething.

“Am I talking to Freckles, the badass Ranger, or the medic?”

“I’m all three, though badass is relative.”

“I have a ring of bruises around my neck, including thumb prints below my Adam’s apple. I’ll see a specialist next week or the following to make sure there’s no problem with my larynx or esophagus. The holiday made it hard to schedule.”

A ring of bruises.

Oh my God. Okay, calm down, Mirri. Breathe.

My voice is steel when I ask, “Did you get a good swing in?”

“Nah. Five witnesses plus the cop means not only was it unprovoked, but with no retaliation, there’s no legal liability on me as an individual or for the company.”

“And you had the discipline to think that fast?”

“Sure,” he tries for sarcasm but the rasp in his voice nullifies the effect. “It was the sheer shock that I was throttled in my own conference room.”

“He knows where you live.”

“If he doesn’t, he can find out.” He waits a long moment, but before he can continue, I cut him off.

“Please pull over.”

“Why?”

“Please.” I press the button for FaceTime. It takes several rings before the call changes to video.

“Hey, baby,” he offers, his smile weak and his eye bruised and swollen. “God, I missed your freckles.”

It takes me a minute. The medic in me wants to do one thing while the woman in me wants another. The Ranger deep within wants to throttle his attacker with my bare hands, but several deep breaths allow me to shove her down to let a more calm Mirren prevail.

His voice is quiet when he continues. “I can hear your wheels spinning. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“I don’t like this,” I say honestly, my voice smaller than the thrumming rage behind it demands.

“I’m leaving in the morning. Denver, remember?”

“But that’s while he’s locked up. He could be out by the time you’re home.”

“Mirren?” He calls as my mind starts to spin on scenario after scenario of how vulnerable Strider could be, how volatile this guy seems, and how I can’t protect him. “Baby?” His words rip me from my swirling thoughts.

“Yeah.”

“It’s my job to protect you, not the other way around. Need you to remember that, okay?”

“I don’t need protection,” I refute.

“But allow it anyway, okay? Because I need it for me.”

26

shenanigans updates

Strider