Chapter 6
six
Finn
The sound of my phone ringing wakes me the next morning. I reach for it blindly as it skitters across the coffee table and put it to my ear without checking the caller ID.
“Yeah?”
Too late I remember to keep my voice low, and I glance up to the loft to see if I’ve woken Rosalie. Rosie.
“Finn?” says a man’s voice on the other end of the line. “It’s Drew. I’m calling about your email. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
I sit up, rubbing my eyes, suddenly wide awake. “No,” I reply in a hushed voice. “I’m up. Just, uh… give me a minute?”
“Sure. No problem.”
With another fast look at the loft and no way to tell if Rosie is still sleeping, I wrap a blanket around my hips and take my phone outside to the porch. Dakota follows and waits at the top of the steps for me to carry her down, and I heave all sixty pounds of her to the yard.
“Drew?” I say into the phone, shadowing Dakota as she sniffs at the ground. “Sorry. I’m here. You got my email?”
“I did.” Drew’s voice is a lot like Jack’s used to be. The timbre is the same, and the way he pronounces certain syllables. It’s heartbreaking and comforting at the same time. “Your timing is… interesting.”
My muscles tense. “How do you mean?”
“Have you been online recently?”
I check the time on my phone, notice that it’s already midmorning, then count back the hours. “About six or seven hours ago. Why?”
“Because a lot can happen in six or seven hours—and a lot did. I was already running the checks on both the client and Chip Daniels when the reports started to filter through.”
A pit opens in my stomach. “What reports?”
“Well, if I were a cynical man—”
“You are a cynical man.”
He snorts. “Right. It’s a smear campaign. Early stages and no leads yet on the source, but major sites are reporting that Rosalie Thorne has got herself a lover—and that lover isn’t the man she’s marrying in three days.”
The hollow in my gut hardens. “I’ll tell you the source,” I grind out. “Chip.”
“Want to tell me why?”
“Off the record?”
“Of course.”
“She’s left him. He’s an abusive narcissist, and I need to know how safe it is for her to be out in the world with that guy as her enemy.”
A little way ahead, Dakota trots out from behind a shrub with a massive stick in her mouth, flops to the ground, and destroys it with hacking bites. I need to get the girl some breakfast.
“It’s unlikely Chip poses a risk to Rosalie’s physical safety,” Drew says, giving me a fleeting moment of relief.
“With his history and profile, he’ll take out his aggressions on her bottom line, and look, if it was just about this smear campaign, I might tell you to stand down.
” Drew clicks his tongue, and I get the sense he’s shaking his head. “But there’s more.”
My teeth crack with the tension in my jaw. “Yeah?”
“I’ve only spent a few hours on this so far, but given what happened last year in New Orleans, the first thing I did was try to locate the guy who nearly got to her.”
My hackles rise. “And?”
“We can’t find him.”
“Fuck.” I slam the side of my fist against the nearest tree trunk. “Fuck.”
“Yeah. Pretty much sums it up. Didn’t her previous security team know about this?”
“Good question,” I reply. “And one I wish I could answer for you.”
Drew mirrors my judgmental tone with a frustrated grunt. “I’ll keep looking and get back to you as soon as I can. In the meantime, I’ll get a remote team set up to monitor digital activity and assess the client’s social media platforms for threats and patterns.”
“Call me as soon as you know more. Day or night. Anytime.”
“Will do.”
“Thanks. And, uh…” Even with anxiety sharp like ice in my veins, my shoulders drop with a sudden surge of regret. “How are you doing? I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch before now. Not since the funeral.” I close my eyes. “I’m a jerk.”
“Nah. You’re not a jerk. I should have called to check in on you, too, and ask how Dakota’s doing there with you.”
I glance over at the Labrador that used to belong to Jack.
When Jack died, Drew asked if I’d adopt Dakota and give her a home.
It was enough that Drew had to take over Jack’s executive security firm and care for his parents after they lost their son.
Providing for Jack’s dog was the least I could do.
It also gave me purpose at a tough time.
And a year ago, I’d hoped it would lighten the guilt I felt about letting Jack down when he needed me. I suppose it does. A little.
“She likes it here,” I tell him. “Lots to explore. Eat. Destroy. You know.”
“Good. I’m glad. Jack would be too.”
“Yeah.”
Silence follows, and I know Drew’s thinking about Jack the same way I am, but he’s the first to clear his throat.
“I’ll have something to you in a few hours. Eight tops.”
“Thanks, buddy. I really appreciate it.”
I end the call with a frown at the screen, then hitch the blanket higher on my waist as I return to the porch and take a long look out at the gently flowing river.
Twenty-four hours ago, my life was simple.
Easy. Complication free. Now my body is on the kind of alert I haven’t felt in nearly a year.
It’s not uncomfortable and I don’t hate it, but it’s not how I want to live anymore.
After ten years as a SEAL and two months as Rosie’s bodyguard, I returned to Aster Springs for a different kind of life.
One that was quiet and calm with zero stakes.
No new attachments and nothing to lose. Has it been easy to adjust to the country life?
No. It’s fucking boring. But I was getting closer to figuring it out.
And now all that reconditioning has been undone, and all it took was a single phone call.
Behind me, the front door squeaks on its hinges, and when I turn around, Rosie’s blonde head pops through the doorway. Her hair is thrown up in a ponytail and her cheeks are pink and pillow creased. I bet that soft place just beneath her jaw is sweet and warm right about now.
She steps all the way out onto the porch, eyes sweeping down my body, and the corner of her lips curves upward at the blanket hanging off my hips. “Good morning.”
“Morning. How’d you sleep?”
“Good. Fine.” She clasps her hands in front of her, those long fingers made for an instrument. Guitar. Piano. Flute. Fiddle. I read an article once that said she can play eight, like her idol Dolly Parton. “And you?”
“About the same.”
Rosie smiles and her eyes fall to the phone in my hands. “I thought I heard you talking. Is everything okay?”
I promised her honesty, but until I know more about the whereabouts of her attacker and Chip’s toxic media campaign, I refuse to give her half-truths that will only scare her.
“How about we go inside, and I’ll make you breakfast?” I suggest. “I’m starved and we can talk while we eat.”
“No,” she says, and at my lifted brow, she rolls her eyes. “I mean, yes, but let me make breakfast as a way to pay you back.”
“You don’t have—”
“I know.” Her hands twist together, back and forth. “But I want to.”
“Okay. Thanks. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I’ll throw on some clothes and collect Dakota so I can feed her first, and then we’ll meet you inside.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m regretting life.
“How is it?” Rosie piles more underdone eggs onto my plate and tops up my mug of bitter-tasting coffee, then grimaces as she hands me a piece of cold buttered toast. “I’ve never cooked anything before. I didn’t know it would be so difficult.”
“It’s… great.” I choke back another bite of charred bacon and chase it with a mouthful of coffee I do my best not to taste. “It’s… It’s…”
“Awful.” Rosie sags in her chair, then perks up again. “But I’m sure it just takes practice. I’ll do better next time.”
I thud my fist against my chest as I fight down a mouthful of toast and glance at the scraps of burnt bacon on the floor next to Dakota.
She’s curled up with the meat scattered right under her nose, and you know food’s bad if you can’t get a Labrador to eat it. “Next time. Sure. Just takes practice.”
“So… that phone call you took outside. It was about me, wasn’t it?”
Grateful for the excuse to stop eating, I push away my plate and turn to Rosie where she’s perched on the edge of her chair with her hands splayed on the tabletop.
“Yeah. I reached out to the firm that hired me as your bodyguard last year and asked them to do a little research about your situation. You said you don’t trust your current security team and I don’t want you returning home without a few basic protections in place.
This firm is the best I know to provide it. ”
“That’s kind of you, Finn. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, but I didn’t do it to be kind, Rosie. I did it to be practical, and to keep you safe. Once you leave here, I won’t be around to protect you, so if you’re serious about ending your relationship with Chip, you need to start rebuilding your teams. Security comes first.”
“Of course.” Her throat works as she nods her understanding. “And I am serious about breaking up with Chip. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”
“Have you switched on your phone yet? Turned on the television?”
Rosie drops her eyes. “No. I couldn’t face it last night and my phone battery was dead when I tried to turn it on this morning. Why? What’s going on?”
I haven’t seen the evidence for myself yet, so I set my phone on the table so we can both view the screen, then pull up my internet browser and type her name into the search bar.
The results page populates with a dozen headlines saying the same thing in different ways.
Music mogul Chip Daniels dumps pop star Rosalie Thorne three days before their fairy-tale wedding.
The wedding is off! Princess of Pop Rosalie Thorne busted cheating on Chip Daniels.
Where is she? Rosalie Thorne flees her wedding dress fitting after the truth about her affair comes out.
Rosie scans the headlines and scrolls to see more, her eyes flying over the screen and her nostrils flaring with short, overwhelmed breaths.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “But it’s—”