Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
He's on edge, but it hits me then that he’s always on edge. More so, he's always looking for enemies, waiting to be attacked. He's alone without me. He was always alone without me. His entire life, his future, changed when he stood up against a cartel member through the District Attorney's office. When he ensured the conviction of a man no one else would dare face off with in court. He was brave, but as a result, he’s been forced to see everyone as a potential attacker, to look at them as if they are ready to kill him. As if he would have to kill them or be killed. Always. Everyone, but me. He was always different with me.
I turn to him and stroke his cheek, urging his attention to me. He’s slow to turn, but when he looks at me, there’s a punch of emotion between us. His eyes, his soul, radiate power and torment. “Even when you hunt," I say softly, but no less intensely, "you’re surviving. You didn’t choose this life. It chose you. You fight. You survive.”
“What happened to the killer you called me?”
“I understand your message. I understood what you said to me. Sometimes being a survivor means becoming a killer.”
He doesn’t immediately react. He doesn’t confirm or deny my words. He just leans in, kisses the hell out of me, and then orders, “Find us a place to live, my fake wife, but know this: one day, you’ll feel safe with me again. One day, you’ll trust me again. And that day, that will be the day I’ll ask you to marry me and to become my real wife.” He kisses me again and sets me aside, returning his attention to his computer, but I'm not tuned out. I'm with him. He's with me. We’re together, and we're going to stay that way.
Furthermore, most importantly, my heart squeezes with the knowledge that he knew what was on my mind. That he knew that I was thinking about being his fake wife, that I was thinking about marrying him, or that perhaps he was simply thinking of marrying me. He is not a killer. He is a man who has been alone for far too long. Alone. I know that word. I know that feeling. The minute I met him, I was no longer alone. I lean over and kiss his cheek and whisper, “I love you, no matter what name you use or what war you battle.” I turn away from him and start looking for a place for us to safely hide away while we hunt for our enemies. We hunt them. They don’t get to hunt us. Aaron is right to go after them. Even if we ran, they could find us, and I don’t want that life for us. He ran. He ran from the cartel, and the CIA took advantage of his vulnerability. No more. I’m fighting with him. I’m fighting for our freedom.
“How about this place?” I ask, a few minutes later. “Or this one.”
We talk through a few options and decide on one in a row-style building where we’ll be secluded with our own entryway and door. There will be a gated entry point where we can point cameras. I pay, and we’re ready to go. We scan the restaurant, and we’re about to leave when three men in business suits walk in, and while they don’t sit anywhere near us, nor do they look at us, a feeling of unease slides through me. I want to be someplace safe. I want some time with Aaron to plan. I want to investigate and find out who is behind this. I don’t want to run. I don’t want Aaron to have to kill for me again.
“We’re going out the back,” Aaron instructs, but he doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t seem to look at them either, but I know that he knows every move they make. He motions to the waitress, and when she joins us, he hands her cash, a lot of cash. “I need you to distract those men," he orders. "Pour coffee on one of them or whatever it takes. If we leave and they don’t know we left, I’ll come by tomorrow and double that money.”
I go cold inside. We went through hell to avoid being followed. If these men are here for us, it wasn’t enough. What will ever be enough?
Chapter twenty-five
Ashley
Idon’t ask Aaron if he suspects the three men in business suits are trouble. Why else would he pay to have them distracted?
“The minute she spills the coffee, shut your computer and stick it in my bag,” he orders. “Then grab your jacket, stand up, and walk to the back door. I have the bags.”
“I’d rather you have a free hand. I’ll take my bag.”