“Doesn’t matter. Aspen”—I duck my head to catch her eye—“go home and lock your doors until I get there.”
Her skin pales with the understanding of what I’m actually asking, but she draws further away and shakes her head. “I can’t leave. I’m working.”
“Call someone in early.”
“I don’t have that power. How about tell me what’s going on, and I’ll make the choice.”
She lost her choice the moment she was marked as mine—and as their retribution.
Turning away, I take out my phone and call one of my most trusted, and one of my best men. She heads to the sink to rinse her mouth before heading back to the main part of the store.
He picks up instantly. “Hey, boss.”
“Get here now.” I spit out the address to this place.
“See ya in ten.”
“Cade?” she calls from the other side of the store, her steps approaching as I hang up the phone. “You need to tell me what’s going on.”
Maybe later. This evens the scales for the answers she owes me about last year. Thankfully, the door chimes and an elderly woman’s entrance steals Aspen’s attention. Thick perfume taints her sickeningly furry coat, something Aspen appears unbothered by as she plasters on what I’m now calling her customer service smile—the same fake one she gave her date last night. While she’s with the woman, more customers gradually enter and I never could have believed I’d be thrilled to have Aspen’s attention elsewhere.
Ten minutes after making my call, the door chimes again as Bones enters, scanning the room until spotting me in the corner. Even engaged with strangers, Aspen doesn’t miss his entrance.
“Don’t let her out of your sight.” I jerk my chin towards Aspen, who is now cashing out the old lady. “For every hair on her head that’s harmed, it’s coming out of your skin.”
He whistles, not batting an eye at my threat. “Who’s she?”
“Mine. That’s all there is to it.”
“My my, slammer’s been good for you. Nah, seriously, how the hell did you meet a cute thing like her while locked up?” His gaze lingers too long so he’s lucky we’re around strangers who’d make a fuss if I punched him. Decades of friendship and comradeship aside, there’s a hierarchy the tattoos on our wrist deem we follow, and mine’s above him.
“Say one more fuckin’ thing about her… If her shift ends, follow her home and stay outside ’til I get there. Don’t talk to her unless you have to. Don’t tell heranythingabout who you are—or who I am. Pretend you’re a fuckin’ statue unless you need to defend her. Got it?”
“Sure, sure.” He turns until his back is to her and lowers his voice. “What’s going on?”
“The Vendettas.” A name way too fucking ironic now, considering what they’re after. “One of them left flowers on her doorstep and then came here pretending to be a customer. When I got here, she was freaking the fuck out after he dropped enough hints she put it together.”
“Fuck.” He draws the word out and rubs a hand over his head, flicking melted flakes from his hair. “That changes shit. Why now, though? They’ve been fairly quiet in your absence.”
“Victor’s brother was in there with me and saw her one day. By her second visit, I bet he told Victor, who put guys on her trail.” Which means the possibility of showing up for her yesterday, only to find her kidnapped or dead was fucking real. They waited until I was free, for this reason.
“They still blame you.”
I shrug. “They’re not wrong. But they can shove their cocked-up vengeance up their ass. Until this is dealt with, she’s not to be left alone. Whatever else you have going on—don’t. Playing guard dog is your only duty. When I’m not with her, you will be.”
“Got it.” He slides back and out of the way, leaning against the wall closest to the door and farthest from her and tugs out his phone to fit in well enough, but I know he’ll always have one eye on the door, the other on the people she interacts with.
Once Aspen finishes cashing out the few customers who’ve kept her busy, she rounds the counter with bright eyes that remind me of her first visit. They’re excited, but this time from the eagerness of getting the answers she so cutely believes I’ll be handing over. As she nears, her gaze flits to Bones, but I slide in front of him to regain her attention.
“How is it that I’m freaked out more now than I was last night when youbroke into my house. Let’s not forget that. I’m still mad.”
Fear of the unknown is greater than her fear of me, and it’s a solid foundation to our future. I loop my arm around her waist and tip her head back with a light tug of her hair, swallowing the scent of candies and flowers and everything pleasant that once haunted me in my cold, dank cell. She doesn’t push away, falling submissive in my hold—another good start if my assumptions about this woman are correct.
“Fear isn’t what you were feeling last night. Surprise, certainly. If you were scared, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.”
“Then where’d you be?”
“Back in handcuffs after you went to the cops.”
