Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
What movie? How did anyone think this way? Bodies acting like they had a mind of their own. With my eyes glued to her, all I knew about the film was that a flash of lights surrounded us. Probably was a similar IED scene. “ISIS abducted an explosives engineer. Had him designing new tech. I cleared a stairwell solo. Five stories high, comms went out. Hostages in the basement.”
Jordy’s voice was barely a whisper. “By yourself?”
I nodded once. “Sometimes there’s no backup—or they’ve died. You just move. You don’t hesitate. You move. Or you die too.”
“I’m glad you’re here with me.” Jordyn reached up and kissed me. A soft, lingering kiss that didn’t ask for anything more. And I let her kiss me. Kissed her back. My hands found her hair, thick and scented with mango. I threaded my fingers through it gently. Not for me. For her.
“I love you.”
She blinked up at me.
“You said it earlier when I gave you the hair stuff. I’m not sure if it was because of that. Or whatever. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is how much I love you. Maybe not in a way that you’re used to—”
“I’m not used to love,” she murmured. “For me, if a guy said ‘I love you’ with his arms wrapped around me, moving slow and tender … hell, that was love. And I’d take it, especially compared to my usual treatment.”
“I’m sorry.” I ran my knuckles at her ribcage now and smiled. “But, good, in a way? So, you won’t have anything by which to compare me, and this love I have to offer you.” It was a joke. At least I hoped. “But know this, I will never hold your body hostage to prove anything to you. You don’t have to give me anything. I already have everything I want. You.”
She was quiet for a moment. Then a breath left her like a weight.
I parted my lips to speak. To tell her that we could find a new kind of intimacy. A deeper one. That she didn’t have to tense when we kissed and think that I couldn’t love her the way she needed. I’d fulfill all her desires—
A deep, low guttural growl rolled from nearby. The temptation to cross the line with Jordyn that threatened to swallow me alive crashed. Rebel stood on all fours. Body rigid. Ears up, stiff. Another growl rose from deep in her chest.
I untangled myself from Jordyn and stood. The conversation we had, and the one about intimacy that we needed to have, erased. Every nerve in my body switched. Defense mode. As Jordyn stood, my gaze was already scanning the room. Training kicked in.
Jordyn seemed to have lost her voice. “What is it?”
I placed a finger to my lips, then escorted her around the kitchen island. I pushed the cabinet’s side, and the door opened, revealing the chef’s pantry. Not many people would know to look, but a wealthy buyer would expect to have somewhere like this for things that they don’t want to clutter their kitchen.
“I’m scared,” Jordyn murmured.
“Don’t be. Rebel, in.” I jutted my chin. The dog followed us inside. I went to a drawer that matched the ones in the main kitchen area, opened it, and pulled out a Glock.
As I handed it to Jordyn, she whimpered. “You have another one for you, right?”
“Not down here. Sit against the farthest wall. Shoot anything that’s not me.”
“No-no.” Her hands trembled around the handle as I went to close her inside. “I have the gun and Rebel. You’re leaving yourself weaponless?” she whispered.
I winked. “Not for long.” The second I shut the door to the butler’s pantry, all went dark. Shoot. Someone had cut the lights.
The ocean wind whispered across the sea outside. And then—I caught the sound I needed.
Movement.
Professional?
Yep.
Nearly soundless.
I reached for the knife block and grabbed the handle for the filleting knife. The blade was the same size as my US. Marine Raider Stiletto, a gift from a mentor after I’d completed training. Although no longer in use, a skilled designer crafted the stiletto blade. Delicate. A single purpose weapon, with a beautifully thin tip.
“Living room clear,” someone whispered into a comm.
Great. The enemy was also equipped with night vision goggles.
“Headed to the kitchen now,” the man added.
I moved around the island in a crouched position. The man strolled slowly, boots soft against the marble floor.
As the man walked the shorter side of the island, I sprang to my feet. Knife fisted in my hand, sharp blade facing between my thumb and index, I brought the knife sideways between the man’s bulletproof vest and helmet. Chik. Blood squirted from the man’s jugular. Chik. Chik.
I cradled the man to the ground. I reached for the loop of the mercenary’s suppressed M4 Carbine and—
Glass crashed in front of me. I didn’t have time to unloop the semiautomatic rifle from the dead tango. Unarmed, my mind swiftly assessed the situation. Three figures came in fast. Trained. Coordinated.