Page 18 of Gunnar

I pull out my phone and dial Damon when Devyn disappears into the house. “The little brat wants to go shopping. Find out where and put together a route assessment.”

“You got it.” Damon pauses before asking, “Everything okay?”

“She’s difficult.”

“Aren’t they all?” Damon laments with a dry chuckle.

Not like this one…

I scrub a hand over my jaw, my fingertips dragging through my short beard. “Either you or Jagger needs to be prepared to roll with us.”

“Copy that.”

“And Damon?”

“Yeah.”

“Bring earplugs.”

The past week and a half has been absolutely exhausting. For all these rules about unvetted visitors, my home has had as many people roaming through it as LAX. Contractors have been changing door locks and updating the security alarm. Based on the incessant buzzing outside, landscapers are still hacking apart my gorgeous yard.

I need to be anywhere else.

“No unapproved travel… Ha!” I grumble as I stand in the middle of my closet, yanking hangers across the rack with considerably more force than necessary. Silk blouses whisper against sundresses. Every outfit I shove aside is an irritating representative of the life that this security detail is taking from me.

Almost as irritating as Gunnar.

I can still hear his voice from an hour ago, the rough, unyielding tone that manages to be both professional and inappropriately intimate. “I don’t care if this is a standing dinner. If we haven’t approved it, it’s a spontaneous outing.” These men walked into my house, called my security inadequate, and then attempted to reorganize my entire existence into a series of protocols and restrictions designed to keep me safe while slowly suffocating me.

I shove two dresses aside, the metal hangers screeching against the rod.

“Additional cameras,” I mutter, mimicking his dry, emotionless delivery. “Guest screening.” I shove more hangers to the side. “No changing plans.”

I pull out a little black dress and glare at it before tossing it onto the velvet bench behind me. “You know who changes plans? Everyone. Everyone changes plans. Normal people change plans.”

I understand why everyone is concerned for my safety. I’m afraid, too, but fear is exhausting. After two days of being scared, questioned, protected, managed, and analyzed, I want one normal evening. One. Just one night where I’m not a client or a victim. One measly evening where I can just be Devyn—having dinner with friends and pretending my life is normal. My phone buzzes against the built-in dresser.

SCARLET

Please tell me you’re still coming.

I smile, my thumbs moving across the screen with certainty.

Obviously.

Good. We are on our way, and I plan to order you a celebratory drink when we get there.

Should I just plan to be useless tomorrow?

Definitely.

I laugh, the sound startling in the quiet confines of my closet. Scarlet has always been like this—bright, fearless, and unapologetically herself. She is the kind of friend who can drag me out of my own head simply by existing, who refuses to let me hide or shrink or become smaller than I am. She is exactly what I need tonight.

I glance toward the garment bag at the end of the closet. When I unzip it, the emerald silk catches the light. The fabric slides over my skin like water, hugging my figure perfectly and accentuating the green flecks of my eyes. I add gold earrings and a pair of stilettos. Standing before the mirror, I sweep my hair to the side, and the soft waves fall over my shoulder.

Perfect.

On my way.