He cups my jaw. "I know. I want to. But this can’t wait."
I nod.
Then he turns to the two prospects. Voice hardening.
"You watch her. You don’t speak unless spoken to. You don’t leave her side. And you sure as hell don’t look at her."
"Yes, sir," they answer, almost in sync. Military style.
I blink.
They’re scared of him. Not just respectful. Scared.
This kind of turns me on.
He presses a kiss to my forehead before he leaves. "I’ll be back before you miss me."
I miss you already.
The day crawls. I serve coffee. Listen to Doris ramble. Try not to stare at the road every time an engine revs nearby.
But he doesn’t come.
Not even a text.
Late afternoon, one of the prospects—Tanner, I think—gets a message. His phone buzzes. He checks it, then walks over.
"We’ve been told to take you home, ma’am."
My stomach sinks.
"He’s not coming?"
"Club business. He said to take you back before sunset."
I pack up. Say goodbye to Doris. Let them drive me in a truck that smells like oil and pine.
The cabin’s exactly how we left it. Clean. Quiet.
Too quiet.
They wait outside. One posted near the porch. The other near the trees.
I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the blanket he held me under. Missing him more than I want to admit.
Then, a knock.
I stiffen.
Not again.
I move to the window, pull the curtain back just a little.
It’s a woman. Late thirties maybe. Blond. Calm. Alone. She lifts a hand, knocks again, just once.
“Viper sent me,” she calls out, like she knows I’m standing just inside.
My chest tightens. He’s sent people before. Sage. Havoc.
