“Is it?” Cartier stepped closer. “Are you mad because she just proved she can handle her business without you?”
“I’m not mad,” I snapped, the words coming out sharper than I intended. “She just doesn't need me. I’m okay with that. I’m happy for her.”
Cartier chuckled, shaking his head. He walked over to the truck and mirrored my stance, leaning back against the coolmetal. “So, you’re just insecure and jealous? That’s a new look for you, Killian.”
I didn't answer. I couldn't. I was.
“Look,” Cartier said, his voice dropping the edge. “Whoever helped her did it without leaving a single footprint. I’ve been through every database I have access to, trying to find who. To extract four people from a house that clean in under two hours? That’s high-level work. There might be a hundred guys in Tampa capable of it, with MacDill right in the backyard, but most of them are over forty and looking for a quiet retirement. She has the money now; she probably paid a premium for some old school type. They aren’t your competition, man. They’re just contractors.”
“Can you narrow it down?” I asked. “I want a name.”
He shook his head firmly. “I didn’t, and I won’t. Some stones are better left unturned, even for you. You keep digging, and you might find something that makes you look at her differently. Or end up staring down the barrel of a gun bigger than yours. You want that?”
I stared at the glowing ash of my cigar.
“I think you should take your woman, go back to Silas, he loves her around and just learn how to live,” Cartier said. “You’re making this more complicated than it has to be. Your obstacles are gone, Killian. She’s safe. You’re the reason, bask in that shit.
He didn't understand. It wasn't about the obstacles. It was about the fact that I had spent so long being her savior that I didn't know how to just be her man. I shouldn’t even be her man, I felt like I was taking advantage of her.
“Just pack the gear,” I said, flicking the cigar into the gutter. “We’re leaving.”
Chapter 48: Chloe
"Why are you packing?" Chloe asked, stepping into the room. She’d gone out for breakfast, and for a second, she looked like any other woman on a morning run—bright, fresh, and finally unburdened. I had thought about just leaving and telling her over the phone, but I wasn't that much of a coward. I couldn't do that to her.
"My job is done," I said, folding a shirt and shoving it into my bag with clinical precision. "Your money is in your account. The threats are gone. You're safe."
"What job? Killian, why are you talking like that?"
I stopped and looked her in the eye, the weight of the last month sitting heavy between us. "Because for fourteen years you were a prisoner. Then you were my responsibility. You haven't been your own person yet, Chloe."
"I'm myself when I'm with you. I wantyou." Her voice was rising, that raspy edge coming back.
"No," I said, stepping toward her until I could smell the vanilla on her skin. "You think you want me because I'm the one who opened the door. That's not a relationship, Chloe. That's a reflex. I'm not going to be the next thing that keeps you from a real life."
"You're pushing me away."
"I'm giving you the world." The words came out sharper than I meant, vibrating in the small space of the hotel room. "Go to Paris. Go to Africa. Get a boyfriend. Figure out what you like when I'm not around to decide for you."
"I don't want to go without you!" she yelled. She stepped into my chest, shoving her finger hard into my sternum. "You think you're being so goddamn noble. Aren't you scared? Aren't you terrified that I won't come back to you? That I'll find someone else?"
"Yes."
The word was out before I could stop it. A raw, jagged admission.
"Yeah. I'm scared." I let out a short, dry laugh that had no humor in it. "I'm terrified, actually. Every goddamn day."
She went still, her finger still pressed against my heart.
"You think this is easy for me? Sending you away?" I reached out and pulled her closer, my hands gripping her waist like I was trying to anchor us both. "I've been in war zones that scared me less than the thought of you without me. I've looked down the barrel of a gun and felt calmer than I do right now, standing here, trying to do the right thing."
Her eyes were wet, a single tear tracking through her makeup.
"So yeah," I whispered, my thumb brushing her jaw. "I'm scared you won't come back. I'm scared you'll find some guy your own age who doesn't have a soul as dark as mine. Someone who doesn't wake up sweating from nightmares about people you'll never have to meet."
I let my hand fall, the loss of contact feeling like a physical blow.
"But I'm more scared of what happens if you stay. I don't want you to wake up in five years and realize I was just the firstman who was nice to you. I don't want to be the guy you settled for because you didn't know there were other options."
