Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
The last time I felt something resembling emotion creeping into my chest was when I had the last video call with Ronnie before she was taken. She was complaining about her workload, and I told her to suck it up.
The image of Ronnie rolling her eyes at me pops into my mind, but it’s followed closely by her body lying on the filthy bed.
I take a step backward and shake my head to rid myself of the haunting memory before it can turn into a full-blown flashback.
“Where are you from, Lincoln?” Marina asks, drawing my attention back to her, for which I’m grateful.
“Seattle,” I answer before thinking to add, “America.”
A smile tugs at her mouth as she hands me a steaming cup of coffee. “Do you have family there?”
“No.”
“Enough about Lincoln,” Cassia says before taking a sip of her coffee.
“Oh, hush. I’m just getting to know the man.” Marina walks to the living room and takes a seat on the couch.
Cassia gives me an apologetic look and whispers, “Make up an excuse and leave.”
“I’m not leaving you,” I mutter before heading to the living room while bracing for more questions from Marina.
As I take a seat on the other couch, she asks, “How old are you?”
From the corner of my eye, I notice Cassia’s head tilt as if she’s interested in hearing my answer.
“Thirty-seven.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed,” Marina comments. “You look younger.” She takes a sip before shooting another question at me, “How did you get into the bodyguard business?”
I can see Cassia wants to jump in and save me from answering, but I reply, “I used to be a Navy Seal, so protecting people comes naturally to me.”
Locking eyes with Cassia, who seems to be nervous because her aunt is grilling me, I say, “Don’t worry. I have nothing to hide.”
“You sure?” she asks.
I nod, and when Marina gives us a questioning look, I explain, “I had some things happen in my past that’s left me with PTSD. Cassia is trying to avoid something triggering a flashback.”
“Oh,” Marina gasps. “I’m so sorry. I’ll stop prying.”
Even though it feels unnatural, I force a smile to my mouth to set Marina at ease. “Don’t worry about it.”
Cassia climbs to her feet. “I’m going to get to work.”
I stand up while saying, “Thank you for the coffee.”
“You’re welcome.”
Marina remains sitting on the couch, watching as Cassia and I walk to the front door. “Take good care of my niece.”
“I will, ma’am,” I assure her before stepping outside and pulling the door shut behind us.
Glancing at Cassia, I’m met with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay.” As we start to walk to the main building, I ask, “Is your aunt involved in the mafia?”
Cassia shakes her head. “Not at all.” She looks up at me. “So don’t talk about the violence around her.”
“Got it.”
When we enter the building, her arm brushes against mine, and an unexpected burst of tingles spreads through my body.
I clear my throat as I press the button to call the elevator, then let my eyes drift over Cassia. She’s wearing a cream-colored dress and high heels, and her hair is styled in an intricate braid.
It looks like she’s ready to go on a date rather than work.
The doors open, and as she steps forward, the silk fabric swishes around her legs.
The first time I saw her, she wore a white dress with a slit that exposed most of her leg when she sat down. It was at the initial meeting the alliance members had.
The second time, she was dressed in black combat gear.
I can remember every outfit she’s worn since I first laid eyes on her, and it makes my worry grow.
I can’t fall for her.
Jesus, besides my ability to protect her, I have nothing to offer her.
I’m in no state to get involved with a woman.
This is only a temporary arrangement.
One excuse after another pops into my mind as we ride up to the third floor, where there are offices and a team of staff who keep track of everything happening in the underbelly of crime.
The doors open, and when Cassia steps out first, my eyes drift down her back only to stop on her ass.
Christ, Knight! Get your shit together.
Clearing my throat, I glance around us and stay slightly behind her.
We walk into an area where the walls are covered in monitors showing a variety of information.
The manager quickly hurries toward Cassia. “It’s so good to see you back on your feet, Miss Dimitrou. I heard about your loss. My condolences.”
“Thank you.” Cassia lifts her chin. “I’ve been told survivors from my organization were informed to gather in Chile. Can you tell me where?”
“Of course.”
We follow him to a desk and watch as he types something into the system before saying, “They’re in a safe house near Puerto Aguirre.”