"I know what my work does."
"Then you know why people want to stop it." His voice is matter of fact, no dramatics. "You're not just valuable, Mara. You're in danger. To the right people, eliminating you is cheaper than competing with you."
Here it goes again. I know he’s speaking and in the back of my mind, I’m seething that my father hid this from me, and these people who know more about what’s going on in my life than I do. But I can’t stop my brain from cataloging Boone's profile. The strong nose, the set of his jaw, the way his hands rest on his thighs, completely still. Controlled even in moments of rest.
"How long have you known my father?"
The question surprises him. I see it in the slight tension that crosses his shoulders before he answers. "Richard and I served together briefly, years ago. Different units, overlapping deployment. He reached out to Deck when the threats against you escalated."
"And Deck assigned you to me."
"Yes."
"Why you specifically?"
He's quiet for a long moment. "Because I'm the best tactical planner on the team. Because I don't get distracted. Because your father asked for someone who would keep you safe even if you made that job difficult."
"Someone who wouldn't be charmed by my winning personality."
His mouth twitches. "Your words, not mine."
I lean forward, elbows on my knees. "Here's what I don't understand, Mr. Garrett. You've read my file. You know I don't follow rules. You know I make security details miserable. So why did you take this assignment? Why subject yourself to two weeks of me?"
He turns his head, and suddenly we're much closer than I realized. Close enough that I can see the darker blue rings around his irises, the individual hairs in his beard, the small scar on his left cheekbone.
"Because your father looked me in the eye and told me his daughter was the most important person in his world." Boone's voice drops, rough and honest. "And I know what it means to lose someone you can't afford to lose. I won't let that happen to him."
My throat tightens.
Damn him. Damn him for being exactly the kind of man I've always wanted and never found. Controlled. Competent. Protective without being condescending.
Well. Maybe a little condescending. But in a way I want to argue with rather than run from.
"Six o'clock," I say softly. "Dinner at the lodge."
He nods, rising from the couch. The loss of his proximity leaves me cold despite the fire crackling in the stove.
"Six o'clock. I'll come get you at five fifty." He pauses at the door, hand on the frame. "And Mara?"
"Yes?"
"Don't leave this cabin without telling me first." His eyes hold mine, steady and absolute. "That's not me trying to control you. That's me trying to keep you alive long enough to hate me properly."
He's gone before I can respond.
I sit in the silence of my mountain prison, watching the door he disappeared through, and wonder when exactly I started hoping he'd stay.
CHAPTER THREE
BOONE
She's late.
I check my watch for the third time. 5:53. I told her I'd pick her up at 5:50, which means she should have been ready at 5:45 to account for any variables. Instead, I've been standing on her porch for three minutes, listening to what sounds like a hair dryer through the door.
A hair dryer. During an active protection detail.
I knock again. Harder.
