Chapter 7
Ace
If she wasn’t right in front of me, calling me out, I wouldn’t believe this is happening. I’m a fucking spy. I work for one of the greatest intelligence agencies in the world and she spotted me? Sweet, shy Shannon Barrow not only figured out that I’m following her, but she got the drop on me and is now standing in front of me with her hands on her hips.
And she looks furious.
For a minute, I’m so shocked, I don’t know what to do. So, I just stare at her. And those gorgeous blue eyes. Those full red lips. Her chest heaving as she demands I answer her. She’s as beautiful as ever, and for a few seconds, I can’t even hear what she’s saying because I’m so mesmerized by her.
“God dammit, Ace, answer me!” Her eyes flash and she throws up her hands in exasperation. Which is when I notice the Mace in her left hand.
Lord have mercy, she’s seriously pissed and I need to say something before I get an eyeful of concentrated capsaicin, which will hurt like a bitch.
“Shannon, let me explain.” I speak quietly, hoping to calm her, but it seems to have the opposite effect.
“Explain? You were in my apartment reading my diary! Who does that? What the hell is wrong with you? Why have you been stalking me?”
Wait, what?
Holy shit, she thinks I’m her stalker? Jesus, this is a clusterfuck. Or she’s truly nuts.
“Shannon, I’m not your stalker. I don’t even know?—”
“I have a nanny cam!” Her eyes are blazing. It’s a good thing she can’t shoot bullets or lasers out of them because I would be a dead man. “So don’t fucking lie to me.”
“I’m not lying. I was?—”
“You read my diary.” If possible, her eyes blaze even hotter, fixing me with a look that speaks volumes about how much of a line I crossed, despite my good intentions.
She’s spectacularly pissed about the diary. And how had I not noticed a fucking nanny cam? Am I losing my touch or what?
I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to?—”
“Wanted to what? Spy on me?” She won’t let me finish a sentence and it’s becoming tiresome.
“Shannon.” I keep my voice low but I hope my tone lets her know I’m done with this unnecessary arguing.
“What?” Her pretty face is drawn in a scowl and the most poignant thing to me is that beneath her anger is something else: disappointment.
“I was trying to help!” I blurt out.
“Help what?”
“You. I was trying to see if there was anything going on that?—”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Maybe if you’d let me finish a sentence, you’d hear what I’m trying to tell you.”
“I don’t want to listen to anything you have to say.” She points a finger at me. “Stop following me. Stop moving things around in my apartment. And don’t you ever invade my privacy again.”
She starts walking away.
I have no choice but to follow her, so I do, reaching for her arm. “Would you please listen to me?”
“Nope.” She keeps walking, wrenching her arm away so I can’t touch her, and a few people look our way so I opt to let her go.
“Call your mother!” I yell after her. “She’s the one who contacted me. Ask her.”
