Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
My jaw twitches, and I say nothing. That’s kind of a fair reaction. She’s right—I should have brought the whole cameras thing up earlier or at least given her a warning that this was going to happen.
From her perspective, I can see why she might feel a little blindsided.
But this is a solution to my problem.
My fucking Dasha problem.
“I need to know you’re okay all day, every day,” I say, my voice sounding hoarse for some reason. “It’s been fucking killing me.”
“This isn’t going to happen,” she says, nudging the box away with her foot. “Would you just talk to me first? You can’t just start screwing cameras into my walls.”
I grunt and start to pace. She doesn’t understand how precarious things are. The McGraths already planted one car bomb. Who’s to say they couldn’t get close to her again? My security is good, but nothing’s perfect.
I can’t risk it, not with Ciaran and Oisin still lurking around out there.
“Your safety is everything,” I say at last, forcing myself to articulate at least one small portion of the raging storm in my chest. I can’t tell her everything, or else it’ll scare the fuck out of her. Even Dasha would run screaming if she knew how pathetic I’ve become for her.
She’s on my mind constantly. Every day, all day long. The moment I wake up, I’m searching for her. If I didn’t fall asleep in her bed after a long night of fucking, I feel somehow empty and alone.
It’s not fucking right, this bizarre hold she has over me, and I need to do something about it.
“I appreciate what you’re saying, I really do, but come on. I can’t have spy cameras in my freaking living room.”
“Then how am I supposed to know you’re okay? How am I supposed to see you when I’m not here?” My hands turn to fists. My body tenses with frustration. “I have to be out there hunting down our enemies, even though all I want is to be in here with you.”
She comes to me and brushes her hands down my arms. “That’s oddly sweet. Maybe a little psycho stalker, but sweet.”
“If you wanted a normal man, you should’ve married someone else.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice, remember? I was never going to marry normal anyway. At least I got stuck with you.” She smiles slightly, gets on her toes, and kisses me.
That simple gesture quiets the blazing fire in my chest.
Fuck, she calms me down.
I don’t know how she manages it, but some of the tension in my shoulders slowly eases away and my hands relax.
“Let me place them outside at least,” I say, stroking my fingers down her back. I like the way she shivers under my touch.
Her eyebrows raise. “Where, exactly?”
“In the hall at your door. Also outside of the house by your windows. If I can’t see in here, at least I can be sure nobody’s trying to break in.”
She sighs and rubs her forehead, but she reluctantly nods. “That seems reasonable, but nowhere that can see inside.”
“Plus motion sensors. Multiple floodlights. A siren—”
“Tigran, please don’t go overboard.”
“Safety, little kitten, your fucking safety above all else.” I give her ass a swat and kiss her. “I’d better get to work.”
“My husband is a madman,” she says with a dramatic sigh.
But she fucking likes that, and we both know it.
I flip to the video feed right outside her bedroom window. The trees are quiet and the leaves shimmer as the wind blows through. A woman is pushing a stroller down the sidewalk—I can just barely see her in the top corner. The garden’s quiet.
I desperately wish I could see in there right now, but this is the best I can get without pissing her off and making her feel violated. Her safety is important, but she also has to feel safe.
What good is all the security in the world if you don’t feel comfortable in your own home?
I want that for my wife. I understand that her whole world is her suite of rooms, and placing cameras throughout would only make it feel like every inch of her existence has been violated.
Still… I can imagine Dasha inside that room. Cuddling with blankets and reading one of those novels she loves. Her lips parted as she talks softly to herself. Or maybe pacing around and straightening up.
Normal things. Average, regular shit everyone does. And I wish I could be there for all of it.
Instead, I’m parked on a street corner deep in McGrath territory, watching some lowlife Irish fucks sell drugs.
They’re not even good at it. That pisses me off the most. Their security is terrible. I’ve been here for two hours, and they haven’t even noticed me. I’m in a normal beat-up sedan and I’m wearing a hat with sunglasses, but still. Any competent street-level thug should know enough to realize when someone’s staking them out.