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“I’m not talking about the shower,” I said, blushing. “Which was amazing by the way.”
“Better than amazing,” he agreed.
“I’m talking about afterward. In bed.”
His smirk turned into a grin. “First time or second time?”
“No,” I conceded, fondly remembering that part of our little adventure. “No, even after that. After we slept.”
He went silent, and his grin disappeared. I hesitated awkwardly.
“You… you woke up screaming.”
Briggs drew his legs in and crossed his arms over his knees. It didn’t take a psychologist to tell me it was a defensive gesture.
“Did you have a bad dream?”
He inhaled deeply, and I watched his incredible chest expand. He was in amazing physical shape. The way he’d moved last night; both in chasing down our intruder and in the way he’d driven into me so deep and hard, and for so long… I could only imagine the conditioning it took to get to where he was.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I said. “I—I was just—”
Abruptly he stood and turned in the direction of the house. For the first time since we’d sat down, he was no longer looking me in the eye.
“We should get inside,” he said. “Crews should be here soon.”
Forty-Eight
SAMMARA
The ‘crews’ consisted of a bilateral force. A mixture of my own private renovation army, plus men Briggs merely explained were ‘loyal’ to him.
The first to arrive was the electrician. Apparently the storm wasn’t responsible for the power outage last night — my would-be kidnapper had cut the exterior power to the entire house. This got fixed just as two separate repair trucks pulled up. One to replace the shattered front and back windows, and another to dry the rain-soaked floor.
Machines had to be set up — big dehumidifiers that would draw the water from the wood slowly, so as not to buckle it. It would be expensive but well worth it; saving the centuries-old oaken floor was my biggest priority.
I saw two other vehicles, and both looked military in nature. Briggs approached them at the end of the long driveway while I hung back to watch. I saw him talking to a pair of serious-looking men and one woman, none of whom wore uniforms. They carried themselves like soldiers though. Even to someone like me, their training was obvious.
“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what any of that was about?” I asked when he finally returned.
“Of course I will.”
I laughed. “You will? Well that’s a refreshing change.”
“The dark-haired man and woman are ex-special forces. Colleagues, so to speak. They’ll be watching over the house and grounds, twenty-four seven, at least until we have the whole Markus thing figured out.”
I was both stunned and relieved. “They’ll… they’ll do that?”
“Sure.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re employees of mine.”
Employees. That part didn’t make sense. I was always under the impression Briggs worked for the Army. ‘Ranger stuff’ as Kyle or Ryan would put it.
“They’d do it anyway if I asked,” he added. “They owe me. Especially Magdalen.”
“What about the other guy?” I asked. “The older one?”
