I’m sure he can see mine too.
There’s a fresh, oozing gash on his cheekbone.
“I’m the one who should ask that of you.”
Jesus.They really did come to blows.
I know men are volatile. Stress and testosterone and god knows what else… male ego, makes them powder-kegs.
But this feels wrong. Like a fracture of some sort happened that caused an already lit fuse to go off.
“What was that about?” I ask gently.
He looks into my eyes for a few seconds, then gazes over my head toward the trees, his lungs still working hard, and for a long moment he doesn’t say a single thing.
In the short time I’ve known him I’ve seen him lots of ways. Never like this.
Inches from me, but not touching me, Ryker’s hands are curled tight, the muscles in his neck standing out.
“We need to go somewhere we can talk privately,” he says when he finally looks down at me, breaking the tense silence.
CHAPTER 26
The gravity of what I’m about to have to do is a crushing weight on my shoulders.
No. Not my shoulders. Mysoul.
I want to shield her from the fact that Trevor Holt is being interrogated—and not politely—in a bunker no more than a hundred yards from where she was sleeping.
Too damned close. The prick being on the other side of the earth isn’t far enough away.
“Good,” she replies to my remark that we need to talk privately, her response quiet, for my ears only. “I want to talk to you because I’m worried aboutyou.”
Every time she proves she cares about me, it cranks another bolt inside of me.
She leans into me when I hook my arm around her neck, drawing her close.
“Need you safe behind those locked doors.”
When we hit the steps, and I force myself to loosen my hold, but I don’t let her go completely. My hand settles at her lower back instead. Needing that connection. Knowing things are about to get hard.
As if it hasn’t been hard enough.
Scout’s in the kitchen when we pass. “You going to be close?” I ask him.
“I’ll be right here. Whatever you need.”
Backup is what I need in case this goes wrong.
With my stomach shoving up against my ribcage, I keep her moving down the hall to a place we can talk. No ears. Not the bedroom we’re sharing. That’s our sacred space where none of this shit comes past the door.
“The library’s this way,” I tell her. “We’ll have some privacy.”
June’s nails click on the polished wood floor as she hangs right with us. Voices spill out into the hall from the conference room.
As we’re walking past the team meeting, I almost grab the door and close it, but don’t.
A voice rises up above the hum. “What’s your connection to Jade’s father?”
