Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
I moved forward, consuming her space, until we stood toe to toe and she was forced to lean back in order to keep glaring at me. “If I have to, yes. You have no idea the lengths I will go to in order to keep you safe.”
“Because I’m your assignment.” The statement was an accusation.
“Because that’s all I’ve done since I met you, Isabeau.” My hands curled with the need to touch her, to pull her against me and beg her to leave.
“She’s all I have, Nate.” She held her ground as the air between us charged just like it always did. “I’m a trophy to my parents, and a memory to you, and . . .” She rubbed the empty finger on her left hand. “Serena is the only person in this world who’s been there for me unconditionally, the only person who’s never deserted me, and I’ll be damned if I leave her to die. If I go, there’s no one left here who cares about her. We both know what will happen to her.”
“You’d prefer to die with her? Because that’s a very real possibility. There are over four hundred miles of hostile territory for her to get through, and that’s if she agrees to leave. Every air resource we have is committed. I can’t just call her an Uber and send for her, and we can’t wait. You can’t wait.”
Her lower lip trembled, and I muttered a curse.
“I deserve a day,” she finally said.
“A day?” I repeated.
“For all the years I spent waiting for you, the least you can give me is a damned day to see if she’ll leave. Twenty-four hours.”
I straightened and retreated a step like she’d slapped me.
“I’m sorry.” Her eyes flew wide, and she covered her mouth with a hand. “Nate, I’m sorry. That was wrong.”
“And if she’s not here in twenty-four hours, will you agree to stop being a general pain in the ass and fighting me about leaving?”
“Will your team be leaving with me?” Her eyes shifted into a pleading expression so familiar that I had déjà vu.
“You know I can’t.”
And there it was. The look I’d always put on her face eventually. Disappointment and misery. “You’ll stay while this place implodes.”
“Careful, Iz. You say that like you care what happens to me.” I put some space between us.
She followed after me. “I have always cared what happened to you!”
Except when she didn’t.
“That’s something you’re going to have to get over.” I forced a shrug. “If I wasn’t here, I’d be in Iraq, or a dozen other places you’d never even know about. I heard what Serena said, that you went to work for Lauren because she was pushing legislation to end the war.” My heart swelled and broke at the same time. “And I’m not arrogant enough to think that had anything to do with me, but just in case it did, just in case you’re living your life chasing that goal, then Izzy, you have to stop. Even you aren’t powerful enough to end every war. There will always be a need for guys like me to do the things that make it possible for you to sleep at night.”
Even if she was sleeping next to a man who didn’t deserve a single hair on her head.
“You deserve a life.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and looked at me like the last three years hadn’t happened. Like we were still fighting for weekends and every chance to see each other, denying that we were in a relationship when we’d both known we were.
“I have a life.” One she wanted no part of.
“A real life, Nate.” She moved forward, lifting her hand and then resting it lightly above my heart. “A home. A future with . . .” She bit into her lower lip and then sighed. “With whomever you choose.”
The walls of my defenses cracked, and pain came flooding through, drowning my self-made promises to keep my distance and my mouth shut when it came to her love life.
“And is that what you have with Covington? A future? A home? Because I fail to see the allure.”
So much for professionalism.
“The allure?” She jerked her hand away. “He was there.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
IZZY
New York
October 2018
The one thing no one ever bothered to tell me about New York was that I’d never be able to afford anything bigger than a shoebox in Manhattan on an associate’s pay. Or maybe everyone assumed I’d permanently live off Mom and Dad.
In Brooklyn, however, I could manage a small one-bedroom apartment on my own. It was a second-story walk-up in Dumbo with an actual closet, and the best part was the scent of freedom. Freedom from my parents’ expectations and their constant badgering that I use my law degree to do what I could to further their business.