“Are you a cousin? Second cousin? Third cousin once removed by marriage?”
His lips quirk just slightly. “I’m a second cousin.”
“How did you get the name Talon?”
“The military,” he says slowly, blowing on his coffee like he’s giving himself time to think.
“Her Majesty’s Service?” I ask. “I can see that.”
“Special Forces,” he adds. “I joined the family business after leaving the service three years ago.”
Holy shit, this man istalkingto me.
“I’m sorry you got stuck with me as an assignment,” I say sincerely. “I’m boring as hell. This isn’t going to be an exciting existence for you after all the drama you’ve had.”
“That would be refreshing,” he says dryly.
There’s aping!as another text comes in from that heartless, manipulative prick I’ve been forced to marry.
There aresomany things I want to write. So many. But I settle for something noncommittal.
A thumb's up is enough. Maintenance. He’s just doing maintenance.
A tsunami of homesickness hits me. Not that my childhood home was ever a refuge, but Seattle was dear to me, my hometown. I loved Vancouver and my college classes. I loved my friends and the life I’d built.
It’s all gone.
“Well,” I murmur, ignoring Talon’s puzzled gaze. “I’ll just have to build a new one.”
***
Mason…
It’s late by the time I return home, later than I’d planned, but the two stocks I’d spiked and then crashed took some time.
I’d messaged Afton twice to check in, to appear attentive. It seems appropriate after fucking her last night to let her know I’m thinking of her. She responded with a thumb’s up emoji both times. We’re going to have a discussion about responding correctly. I’d ordered takeaway and had one of the men deliver it to the house, and it’s still on the counter as I stroll through the kitchen, pulling my tie loose.
There’s a note resting on top of one of the boxes.
“Hmmm…” Not quite the greeting I’d expected from my blushing bride. Perhaps she’s feeling shy after last night. I open the fridge and eye the intact boxes. She didn’t eat a thing.
Unbuttoning my shirt, I head upstairs to find my bed empty.
I pull my gun from a concealed holster behind the headboard and check the ensuite, the closet. Both empty. My grip tightens on the gun. Talon told me the day went smoothly, that Aftonseemed fine. He stood guard until I got home and sent him on his way.
What the fuck could have happened? No one can get in or out of this house undetected. No enemy of our clan would be suicidal enough to attempt an abduction of a MacTavish wife.
I clear each room until the guest bedroom at the end of the hall, farthest from mine. Shoving the door open, I step in, holding my gun up.
My wife is sound asleep in the bed. Wet towels hang neatly in the ensuite and the few clothes she brought are in the closet.
“What do you think you’re doing, my bad little girl?” I murmur, standing at the foot of the bed. She’s sprawled out like a starfish, wearing a little pair of sleep shorts and a camisole, the covers kicked down to the foot of the bed.
This isn’t acceptable. She sleeps in my bed. At least for as long as I keep her here. I debate between scooping her up and carrying her into my room or waking her with my head between her legs. No, she doesn’t deserve a reward for attempting to distance herself.
The moonlight streaming through the window makes her hair glow, adding a silvery sheen to her skin. Leaning over her, I can feel her warmth, the smell of peppermint from her shower. Those perfect breasts are just barely contained by her top and I’m suddenly invested in the idea of pulling down a spaghetti strap and wrapping my lips around one pink nipple…
My wife’s been crying.
