Chapter 17
“This place only has two bedrooms. I’ll let you have the master. I’m used to sleeping in my childhood room anyway,” Owen explains after a delicious dinner of homemade pizza and salad.
“You actually fit in that thing?” I ask him as I stare at a twin bed that doesn’t even look like it’d fit me.
He chuckles. “I’ll survive. Your room is across the hall.” He motions to a closed door behind me, and I open it to find a large, king bed pushed up against the far wall.
Massive French doors open to a wide porch and the forest beyond. The room has its own fireplace, and the comforter is so large and fluffy that it looks like it’d swallow me.
“Are you cold? Do you want me to light a fire?” he asks.
“I’m fine. Really.”
He runs a hand through his hair, once again looking a bit flustered. I almost laugh, and he catches my smirk.
“Well, goodnight then.”
“Goodnight.”
He nods, shutting the door behind him.
I fall onto the bed and stare at the wooden ceiling, deciding whether I should call Declan tonight. But before I can decide, I’m fast asleep.
We’re at my dad’s shop in downtown Oakland.
His hometown. When he’s not on the road with his Formula 1 team, he’s here fixing all types of cars.
I spend most afternoons after school helping him out.
Everyone knows him, and several people pop in to chat.
I sit on a tall counter, and my teenage, spindly legs hang over the side while I quickly finish my school assignment so I can help my father with a Ferrari that just came into the shop.
My father clicks the garage opener, and the door slowly squeaks until it’s fully open.
“Much better,” he mumbles.
The sound of the busy streets fills the space as he lifts the bright red car.
Intending to help, I slam my book shut—
Screaming and gunshots come without warning, and my father's voice shouts at me to run. But I can’t. I’m frozen, unable to turn away.
I catch my father's eye and see panic. I run toward him as a bullet passes straight through his head. He lurches forward. I reach out to catch him, and we both fall to the ground.
I’m still in the dream, screaming. Or am I doing so in real life? I can’t tell. All I know is that a few seconds later, everything calms down, and my brain goes blank. The darkness consumes me.
I welcome it.
There is light as I wake to the feeling of warmth against my body.
That can’t be right.
I jerk awake to find a person wrapped around my waist.
In my half-asleep state, I don’t think. I react. My fist swings around and lands on the person's nose. A startled yelp, and the arm instantly disappears from my waist, freeing me.
I spin, ready to attack again, when Owen’s voice fills the space. “It’s me! It’s me!”
Oh fuck.
My brain’s awake now, and adrenaline courses through my blood.
I sit up on my knees. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Owen. I didn’t…” I reach for his face and finally register the blood. “Fuck. I’ll get you something to clean that up.”
Jumping off the bed, I race to the bathroom, grabbing a dry towel and wetting another one. I run back to the room to find him sitting up, his head bent back against the headboard. He’s holding his nose.
“Let me see it,” I say, pulling his hand away.
There’s blood coming out, but it’s already slowed. I wipe his face and place the cloth against his nose. “Hold it there. I’ll grab some ice.” I face the door.
“Damn, do you do that to all your boyfriends?” Strangely, he doesn’t sound mad. He sounds curious.
I turn back to find him looking at me out of the corner of his eye.
“I don’t have any boyfriends. Haven’t in a long time. Perhaps that’s why I was startled.” I have no idea why I would admit that to him. But here we are.
He straightens his head, still holding the cloth to his nose. I can’t and don’t want even to begin to unpack the look he’s giving me.
“Why were you in my bed?” I ask, carefully sitting next to his legs.
“You were screaming in the middle of the night, and I thought something was wrong. I came in to find you thrashing around and covered in sweat, but you were still asleep. I tried to wake you, but I couldn’t.
So, I wiped your face with a cool cloth and yanked off the blankets.
You calmed after that, and when I went to leave, you rolled over and wrapped your arm around my waist. You seemed so at peace…
” He trails off for a moment, angling his head toward the ceiling again.
“I didn’t want to disturb you, so I…stayed. ”
I blink at him. I don’t know how to process all of that.
“Serves me right.” He laughs.
I finally look around and realize the sun is already up.
“What time is it?” I ask.
“It’s around seven, I think.”
My heart practically stops dead. I can’t remember the last time I slept until seven.
“We’re late,” I stutter, because I’m pretty sure I’m in shock.
“You do realize I’m the boss, right?” That familiar arrogance is back in his voice. I ignore it.
“Why didn’t you wake me this morning?” I ask instead.
He doesn’t say anything right away and looks as though he’s trying to figure me out. What he doesn’t realize is that I’m trying to do the same. I’m so confused and ungrounded, and everything I thought I knew seems to be going to shit right now.
“I didn’t wake you because I was asleep, too. Best sleep I’ve had in a while, actually. But I could do without that alarm clock of yours.” He smirks, and now that the blood’s stopped, swelling and bruising inch their way to his green eyes.
He catches me staring. “Finally got a chance to ruin my beautiful face, haven't you?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and drop my head into my hands. “That’s not what I had in mind when I imagined it.”
Owen laughs, and it surprises me so much that I drop my hands and look at him.
“So you have thought about it?” he asks.
I scoff. “Of course I have. But that was…” I trail off for a moment and look away. “Not what I wanted. I’m sorry.”
He surprises me by grabbing my hand. “What do you dream about that makes you scream like that?”
Looking down at his hand covering mine, I can’t help but feel small compared to him. What terrifies me the most, though, is that I don’t mind it. I feel safe with him. Which doesn’t make any fucking sense because he’s probably a murderer.
“My father's death. It’s on repeat in my dreams. I’ve struggled with them for fifteen years, but they’ve gotten worse lately.
” I still can’t understand why I’m telling him so many truths, but in this moment, I realize that I don’t care.
I want to tell him. I want someone to know me.
I want him to know me. And I’m utterly terrified of that realization.
“Fifteen years is a long time to carry that burden,” he whispers, still holding onto my hand.
My eyes suddenly fill with tears that I somehow hold back. Fifteen years is a damn long time.
I pull my hand from his and crawl over his lap. His eyes widen when I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him. “Thank you,” I whisper, unable to say more than that. Unable to express everything I’m feeling and thinking.
His arms hesitantly wrap around my waist, but when I don’t object, he squeezes me tight and takes a deep breath.
I finally allow myself to breathe, too, and we both stay that way for a long time.
The drive to the office is silent, if not awkward. I spend the time rescheduling some of Owen’s first meetings since he won’t make them. We don’t speak, though his attention volleys between the road and me.
Owen drops me off at my apartment and waits for me in the car. I rush up and throw on my standard black suit and heels and race back.
“I’ve been thinking,” I finally say as we make our way the five blocks to the office. “You should borrow someone else’s car for a while. This thing is too easy to spot and track.”
Owen only nods and doesn’t say a word.
We make it to the office, silence still hovering over us.
I don’t know what to say to him, and he doesn’t know what to say to me, apparently.
He leaves me there to attend a meeting, and I rush to my desk, eager to hire the necessary security to protect him.
It doesn’t take me long. I know far more about private security than any normal person should.
In fact, the guy I call is the best. He’s a former CIA field agent.
Most importantly, I trust him with my life.
“Listen, Noah, I need you to pretend you don’t know me. Can you do that?”
Noah laughs on the other end of the phone. “Got yourself in a little too deep there, Nova?”
“I’m on assignment and don’t want my target getting murdered before I complete it, understand?”
All of that is the truth, but I don’t say anything else about it, and I know Noah understands why I can’t.
“Understood. As long as I’m getting paid, I couldn't care less what mess you’re getting into.” I hear the delight in his voice. Noah loves drama and violence far more than any normal person should. He was a reckless agent, but he’s a hell of a security guard.
“Thanks, Noah. I’ll see you later today to meet with the boss?”
“I’ll be there with my team.”
“I owe you.”
Noah chuckles on the other end. “A date, perhaps?”
I groan. “Not a chance.”
Noah barks out a laugh. “It was worth a shot.”
I hang up the phone, somewhat relieved that there will be more eyes around that I trust. Now the question is, how much do I tell Declan?
I stare at my phone, at Declan’s personal cell phone number on the screen. My fingers shake when I press the call button. I slowly raise the phone to my ear and wait for his voice to pierce the silence.
“About time. I was getting worried you fell off the face of the Earth.” His teasing voice relaxes me a bit.
“I'm sorry, Dec. I got into a bit of trouble yesterday and had no way to contact you until today.”
“What happened?” His voice is serious now.
I take a deep breath. “This is more complicated than we thought. There are more parties involved. I believe that the companies Owen acquired had some crime going on.”
I wait for Declan to say something, but when he doesn’t, I continue, “When he acquired them, the money was cut off to these crime groups, and now they’re after Owen.”
“You have evidence?”
“One witness who used to work for one of the companies.”
“How do you know they’re after Owen?”
“Because we almost got shot yesterday.”
“What?” he roars.
“Someone was trailing him on a hike yesterday morning. They had a gun.”
“Wait, wait!” Dec shouts, and I snap my mouth shut. “You were on a hike with him? Alone?”
Shit.
“Yes.”
“That’s not in your job description,” he says carefully.
“I know, but he asked. I didn’t want to say no.” I cringe, knowing there is far more to the story than I’m telling him and hoping he can’t see right through me.
I hear Declan take a long breath. “I’m putting Gray in there with you.”
I go to object, but he cuts me off. “No, Nova. I’m giving you a backup. No arguing. This got way more complicated than I expected, and I won’t have you getting killed because some idiot got himself involved in something that was way over his head.”
I tense, wanting to defend Owen, but I know that will only make things worse.
“I’ll post Gray at the coffee shop in the lobby,” Declan continues. “He can monitor everyone coming and going and pick up on any gossip.”
“Fine.”
“Nova, I don’t know what’s going on with you, and I’ve given you space and time hoping you’d come back to yourself at some point, but…
” He trails off for a moment. “You’re getting sloppy.
I thought the mess with the trial would make you more careful.
” He stops and breathes deeply. “Do I need to pull you out?”
“No,” I say way too quickly. “I won’t fail you. I’ll be more careful.”
Declan sighs. “You are the best, Nova. I can’t imagine this job without you, but I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know how to get that trial dropped. I know a win on this assignment will help, but now I’m not so confident.”
He’s right. This assignment could save me. But is it worth damning someone else to save my own skin?