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Chapter 3
Short, clipped chestnut hair. Brown eyes the color of well-worn leather, eyes that blaze with intelligence and a guardedness no one could ever breach. He’s bigger than the last time I saw him, four years ago. Broader. More muscular. He’s a controlled, contained man who has a James Bond air to him.
And he’s looking at me right now with eyes so cold they might as well be icebergs.
“Lindsay, let me introduce you to Andrew,” Stacia starts.
Drew. Oh, God, it’s true.
“Andrew Foster will be your new security specialist. He and his team will keep you safe.”
I snort.
He stares.
Stacia’s eyes leap from Drew to me and back. “Is there a problem?” she asks, brows turning down. That’s more emotion than I’ve seen in her for four years. Her gaze darts between me and Drew, assessing the situation. No matter what, I lose if she decides something’s going sour here.
Even if Drew is the one gone bad.
“No.” Drew and I say the word at the exact same moment, in the same tone of voice. It sounds like a sharp clap, a single sound that shatters noise.
“You two know each other?” Stacia asks, her fingers caressing the paper. Without that discharge form, I can’t leave. If Drew ruins this for me, it will be the second time in my life he’s fucked up.
The first time was four years ago when he let three of our friends rape me.
And while this situation right now doesn’t have quite the same horrific consequences, I’d prefer he not ruin my escape.
Without answering Stacia, Drew looks away from me and opens the door. “Ms. Bosworth?” he says, gesturing for me to walk out.
Ms. Bosworth.
It’s like that, is it? You date a guy for three years and one day, you’re just a client. A Ms.
A stranger.
I freeze. Stacia’s eyes narrow and she takes in Drew. He cuts quite a figure. Besides looking like a giant marine in a suit, he’s wearing an earbud with a small microphone. The outside of a gun holster presses against the bottom of his suit jacket. He looks like a Secret Service agent.
Close. He’s pretty close to being one.
“Senator Bosworth is waiting for you, Ms. Bosworth,” Drew says in a voice so polite I want to slap him. My palm tingles at the thought. Seeing him is enough of a shock. Being treated like some stranger is so much worse than his presence.
I can’t mess up, though. Stacia could still stop me from leaving.
“I haven’t finished her discharge papers,” Stacia interrupts. Her tone is clear: she’s the one in charge.
“That’s not my problem,” Drew barks back. His tone is even clearer.
It says, You’re wrong, Stacia.
I find it hard not to smile. I bite my lips to stop. I’ve never, ever seen anyone take on Stacia. Not once in the four years I’ve lived here at the Island Meditation and Serenity Center. The fact that it’s Drew is even more surreal.
Why is Drew here? Drew? Why would my father hire him to protect me? Drew was off to join the Army as an officer. To fight in wars. To become a four-star General like his dad, with the family goal of hitting Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff one day.
Now he’s a hired gun for politicos like my dad?
This makes no sense.
But I know how to seize an opportunity. While living here for four years, drugged up for most of them, has made me soft, it hasn’t made me stupid.
