“Jaz.”
“What!?”
He held his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m sorry.”
My eyebrows were high on my forehead, and I regarded him with squinted eyes. “What?”
He lowered his hands. “I said I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s been a whirlwind for you these last few hours.”
“Hours?”
He nodded. “Hours. It’s only been hours since you’ve been at the clubhouse, not days.”
Hours, not days.
Fucking hell, it felt like days.
I went to apologize, like I always did when I wanted tension to go away. But he beat me to the punch.
“I have no doubt in my mind that this is what those men were looking for,” Ghost said as he picked up my laptop in his large hand. “But I also have no doubt in my mind that the instant you log in, they’re going to trace your location and come after you.”
I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes. Of fucking course they would. “So what do you suggest?”
“I’d like to give this to Range so that he can put protective parameters around things before we log you in. He’ll be able to buy us some time before things get hairy that way.”
I sighed as I ran my hands down my face. “The guy with the long hair and the dog as a constant shadow?”
“That’s him.”
I waved my hand dismissively in the air, turning back to the TV screens. “Fine, whatever.”
I was so very tired of all this.
“How the fuck did you get into my place to put up the cameras?” I asked with my back to him.
I felt him pause. “I puttied your keys.”
I whipped around and found him passing off my laptop to Ranger. “You what!?”
He turned back to me and stepped inside just enough to close the door behind himself. But he didn’t advance on me. He was an entire bedroom away, and that was how I fucking wanted it.
He leaned against the closed door, folding his arms over his chest. “When I first met you in your law firm, and you had to go into that meeting, I used an app Ranger designed and killed the cameras long enough to putty your keys. Then it was just a matter of having them all made.”
I shook my head softly. “But my address?—”
“Is on your license.”
I felt so weak, I had to reach back to steady myself against the desk. “What the fuck.”
He took a step toward me. “Jaz, I know how this seems. But given everything that’s happened, do you understand why I did it?”
turned my back to him and braced my hands against the edge of the dresser, bending forward because my lungs felt too small for my body.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
I heard him move fast behind me.
“Jaz,” he said, voice lower now, controlled. “We’re not doing this for kicks.”
