Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
"Has she activated the panic button?" I ask, already knowing the answer. If she had, different protocols would be in effect.
"Negative. House systems show no internal alarms."
So she doesn't know. Doesn't realize danger is approaching, circling the sanctuary I promised would keep her safe.
"Keep me updated. I'm three minutes out."
I end the call, focus narrowing to the road ahead, to the calculations of time and distance and threat assessment. The cars Toole described are almost certainly Valentina's people—too soon for a direct attack, but perfect timing for surveillance, for testing our defenses.
The timing is suspicious. Too convenient to be coincidence, too soon after my departure. Which means they were watching the house, noted when I left, decided to take advantage of my absence.
Or it means there's a leak in my security team.
Neither option is comforting.
I reach the turnoff to the private road leading to the safe house, taking it at speed, gravel spraying beneath my tires. Through the trees ahead, I catch a glimpse of movement—the black SUV that Toole mentioned, moving slowly along the public road that winds past our private drive.
They haven't made any move to enter the property yet. Just watching, assessing, gathering intelligence.
I continue up the private drive, out of their line of sight. The house comes into view, secure and seemingly peaceful, no outward signs of heightened alert. But I know security protocols are active, that every approach is being monitored, that defensive systems are ready to deploy if necessary.
I park in the garage, moving quickly inside, the box of Kleah's supplies momentarily forgotten.
"Kleah?" I call, tension coiling in my chest until I hear her response.
"In the library."
I find her curled in the window seat, a book open on her lap, sunlight streaming across her face. She looks up as I enter, a smile beginning to form before she catches the expression on my face.
"What's wrong?" she asks, immediately alert.
"We have visitors," I say, moving to the window, carefully staying to the side where I can see without being seen. "Surveillance only, for now. Nothing to be alarmed about."
She joins me at the window, and I resist the urge to pull her away from potential sight lines. The windows are treated, impossible to see through from the outside, but instinct runs deep.
We stand there a moment longer, watching through the window as the black SUV completes its slow circuit of the public road before disappearing around a bend.
"They're gone?" she asks.
"For now. They'll be back."
She nods, accepting this reality without drama. "So we continue as planned? As if they weren't watching?"
"With additional precautions, yes." I step away from the window, already mentally adjusting security protocols, patrol schedules. "We don't let them dictate our movements or routines. That gives them too much power."
And to prove this, I ask Kleah to close her eyes while I head back to the car.
When she opens them, her eyes light up, and she looks at me like I'm more angel than devil.
Naïve is still my wife's middle name, but I'm no longer going to complain about this.
"This is why you left?"
"Yes."
"You shouldn't have risked—"
"It wasn't a risk. And we do not give them power over our lives. Sì?"
She nods even as her lip trembles. "Thank you."
Sweet. My wife is too damn sweet. And it has me starting to wonder why God allowed her to be with someone like me.
I watch Kleah runs her fingers over the tools inside, checking each one as if greeting old friends. "I can't believe they're all here," she whispers. "Even my special blending tools."
"I had my men retrieve everything from your workroom. Including the items in the hidden compartment beneath the floorboard."
Her eyes widen. "H-How did you—" I simply look at her, and Kleah's expression turns rueful. "You're going to tell me it's part of your job to know these things, aren't you?"
"Just be used to the fact that there is nothing you can hide from me."
She makes a face, but I pretend not to see this and instead ask her where she wishes to set up sher workspace.
"Maybe...the sunroom, if that's alright?"
"You are my wife. What is mine is yours."
The sunroom proves to be the perfet choice. It's bright and airy, with ample workspace and a view of the ocean beyond. I clear a table for her, positioning it to take best advantage of the natural light while remaining out of direct sight lines from the windows.
My wife unpacks her tools with reverent care, arranging them with precision that speaks of long practice. Each item has its place, its purpose, its particular importance in her craft.
When I see she's about to work, I decide to leave, but she calls my name. "Would you stay?" Kleah asks shyly.
The request is unexpected, touching in its openness. She's inviting me into her world, offering a glimpse of something personal, something that matters to her.