I have to avert my eyes from the bathroom mirror in front of me. The marble countertop is cool under my palms, but dusty, and I pick out half a dozen fingerprints. Left behind by a construction crew that will never know we were here.
On the plane, Wyatt and I donned all-black outfits—courtesy of Cara—but I just changed back into the yoga pants and light purple blouse I was wearing this morning.
Wyatt calls my name, then knocks softly. “It’s almost time, darlin’. Can I come in?”
Brushing the dust from my fingers, I take a deep breath. I have to tell him how I feel. In case this whole plan goes to hell and my worst fears come true.
The door creaks, the sound sad and lonely in this big, unfinished house. It’s empty now. All the computers, comms equipment, sketches, and gear stowed away in two black vans.
“Hope.” The single word carries so much pain. “You can still say no.”
His stubble tickles my fingers as I frame his face and crush my lips to his. He backs me up until my ass hits the counter, then lifts me so I can wrap my legs around his waist.
This man is everything I’ve ever wanted. Strong. Gentle. Kind.
The hard length pressed my mound makes me want more, and I wish we had time.
Not just for sex—though I crave the release and the connection we’ve found together—but for everything. Time for quiet breakfasts at home. Time for long walks with Murphy. Time to get to know each other’s histories, hopes, and dreams.
Time to live.
Pulling back just far enough to meet his dark gaze, I whisper, “I’m scared.”
Wyatt tightens his arms around me. I know he’d stop this if I asked. Even though we’d never be safe—or free—for the rest of our lives. He’d do it without question.
“Two hours, darlin’. After that, you’ll never have to be afraid of him again.”
If I live that long. If Ripper’s little cloning device works. If I can do my part.
Only a week ago, Simon had his hands around my throat. Last month, he beat me so badly, I could barely walk for two days. West’s plan depends on me being conscious and able to move.
“Let’s go!” Ryker says from the hall. “We need to wipe that room down and get moving.”
Wyatt eases me back onto my feet, then takes my hand. Our fingers twine. It’s such a simple gesture, yet it means everything to me.
“Wren’s sending the email now. Raelynn’s in place, and Graham’s waiting for Hope outside.” Ryker’s intense stare stops me in my tracks. My heart thuds against my chest like it’s staging a jail break. “Remember the plan. No matter what happens, know we’re coming for you.”
No matter what happens.
I want to believe him. But he doesn’t know Simon. Deep down, I’m terrified this is the last time I’ll ever see Wyatt.
In the entryway, I throw my arms around his neck. “You’re the best man I’ve ever met, Wyatt Blake. I…”
I can’t get the words out. So instead, I hold on to him until I can’t anymore. Until Ry tells me it’s time to go.
Halfway to the taxi someone “borrowed” half an hour ago, I find my voice, but when I turn around, Wyatt’s already closed the door.
The cab rolls to a stop across the street from a small park. At the other end of the block, a sleek, black sedan idles. Simon’s men. Waiting for me. To take me back to my worst nightmare.
Graham turns in the driver’s seat, and I pass him the twenty dollar bill I’ve had crushed in my grip the whole ride. Just in case we’re being watched. “We’re coming for you.”
“Protect him. Please,” I whisper. “And hurry.”
Clutching my purse to my chest, I try not to hyperventilate as Graham drives away.
You can do this. Pain is temporary. In two hours…
Simon’s men get out of the car—two of them—and wait for me. Orson and Rudy. Shit. They were friends with Brix. And from the way they look at me, they know I’m the reason he’s dead.
