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He pulls me tighter. “Trust me?”
My stomach rolls because the thing is, I do trust him. I trust him more than I have trusted anyone in my entire life.
The thing is…
…he can’t trust me.
And that thought sickens me to my very soul.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Alpha
There’s something about Haven that has me questioning everything—the man I am, the man I have been, and the man I want to be. I hardly know anything about this woman. The fact she’s appeared randomly in my life twice feels like some kind of divine intervention.
Maybe Haven is the very thing I need to bring me out of the perpetual hell I have been living in.
I don’t know what lies ahead for Haven and me, if anything, but the fact she showed up in my life again today means something to me. So, I am going to take this opportunity by the horns and run with it. Because fuck knows when she is around, something just feels…better.
“Where the hell are you taking me now? Do you have some secret airstrip, and you’re going to whisk me away in your private jet?” she mocks, and I tilt my head.
“I don’t have a private jet, but wedohave a patch of land with a club helo. If you want to go somewhere secluded, I can fly you there.”
She stops walking and stares at me, like she can’t tell if I am joking or not. “You have a helo?”
“What? Like it’s hard to fly one?” I reply.
A slow smile crosses her face. “You’re full of surprises, Alpha.”
I take her hand, pulling out my dog tags with the other. “Had specialist training.”
Her brow raises in a look of understanding. “Aah, the puzzle pieces are starting to fall into place. Air Force?” she asks.
“Special Forces,” I reply.
Her shoulders slump like she wasn’t expecting me to say that.“That must have been tough. But thank you for your service. You’re a hero.”
My stomach churns, my mind instantly flashing to the embassy and my giant fuckup. My top lip twitches, and I wave her off. “I’m no hero, Haven,” I grumble, sliding my dog tags back under my tank top.
Her hand slides out, gripping mine. “I understand war and fighting are messy. Shit happens. You lose people, but the fact is, you still put on that uniform and fought anyway. That’s brave. No matter what happened out there.”
Narrowing my eyes on her, I inhale. “Okay, who are you, and what have you done with Haven? You’re being far too fucking nice.”
She shoves me playfully. “Shut up. Just because I respect the dog tags doesnotmean I respect you. The pigs are still prettier than you.”
“And she’s back. C’mon, I have a feeling you’re gonna like this next part. It’s more your style.” Chuckling, I grip her hand and pull her along with me, feeling the weight of the moment lifting.
“I have a style?” she asks, and I look her up and down suggestively.
“Yeah, sweetheart. You have a style.”
She snorts as I walk her down the back, past the farm, toward the gun range we have at the rear of the clubhouse. I guess it’s not so much a gun range but more a place we’ve set up for target practice. It works for us. Stepping through the gate into the smaller area, Haven grins like she can already tell what this place is.
“Oh yeah. You’re right. This is definitely more my style.”
Chuckling, I walk her over to the first bay that Dutch handmade for the guys. They may not look fancy, but they sure are sturdy. “I’m assuming you know how to handle a gun?”
She scowls at me. “Put one in my hands, and I’ll show you.”
