“I’m … I’m retiring. I’m done. No more killing.”
From Alistair’s end, I hear what sounds like the slidingof a door, then the hum of a city. I imagine him at home, on his balcony, looking at the lights. “Seriously?”
I take a seat on the couch. “Yep. I’ve got plenty of money, and I’ve had too many close calls … Monty Reid is off the market.”
“Ah.” He chuckles. “You met a guy.”
I play with a stray thread on the couch. “No, I mettheguy. The only guy.”
“Hm. He worth it?”
“Yep.” He’s quiet for a while, and I suddenly wish he was here with me. “You want to meet him?”
Now Alistair fully laughs, and it makes me smile. “Wow, it must be serious. Sure. Bring him to the city; we’ll have dinner.”
“Promise you’ll be nice?”
“If I like the guy, sure. It’s my job to look out for you, Little Fox, remember?” He says, and I nod, even though he can’t see me. My heart suddenly aches for him. We’re not exactly tactile, but just being in Alistair’s presence is calming. A reminder of who I used to be, and how much I’ve grown. “You okay?” His voice is soft, and I love that even when we’re miles apart, he can sense the shift in my mood.
“Missing you.”
“Loser.” He quips. I laugh, and I think I can hear his grin. “I miss you, too. Listen … is this guy another Asher? I don’t want your heart broken again.”
My stomach clenches, and I drop my head back against the couch. When I first met Asher, I spent weeks following him and Gable across the states, eager to climb into Asher’s heart, no matter the cost. He became an obsession, and I forgot about everyone else.
It’s different with Guy, though. There’s a … permanence tohim. A solid foundation that makes me want more than to just own his heart. I want him to hand it over to me, and to take mine, too. “I can’t explain how but … no. It’s different.”
“Hm. Okay. I’m happy for you, then, but … I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t tell you who this job is for.”
Curiosity shoves the word from my mouth. “Who?”
“Sawyer Sinclair.”
Chapter 12
Guy
The bed is cold beside me.
Frowning, I reach out and pat the empty space until Fox nibbles my fingers. I open my eyes and sit up, but I’m alone, only the faint smell of cherries left behind.
“Lina?”
Silence.
I listen for the sounds of the shower, or the tub being filled, but there’s only quiet. Getting up, I pull on my sweats and head downstairs. The house is empty, the lights out. The coffee machine isn’t on, and she isn’t lounging on the sofa waiting for me. Still, I call her name again.
It only hits me when I let Fox into the yard.
Strawberries.
She’s probably gone to the store for strawberries.
I laugh, the knot of worry in my stomach immediately easing.
“Come on, Fox.”
The dog scrambles back inside, skidding across thekitchen floor to leap up onto the couch. I flick on the coffee, and as it brews, search through my phone for RVs.
