Less
For the first time in three years, I feel whole.
I didn't realize how broken I'd been until Amanda climbed back into my life.
Funny how that works.
You convince yourself you're doing fine.
That you're surviving.
That work and missions and keeping your head down are enough.
Then the woman you loved walks back into your life and suddenly you realize you've been existing.
Not living.
I glance over at her.
She's asleep in the leather seat beside me.
Curled up under the blanket the flight attendant brought her.
Her red hair spills over one shoulder.
Her makeup's gone.
She's barefoot.
And Christ, she's beautiful.
Always beautiful.
But this?
This is my favorite Amanda.
Not Broadway Amanda.
Not famous Amanda.
Not the polished star everybody pays thousands of dollars to see.
Just my Rusty.
Soft.
Safe.
Sleeping beside me.
I still can't believe she took me back.
I don't deserve it.
I know that.
Three years ago, I left her.
No explanation.
No goodbye.
Just disappeared like a coward.
And somehow—by some miracle I don't deserve—she's giving me another chance.
Selfish or not.
Wrong or not.
I don't care.
Because if I leave her again?
I'll break.
And worse—I'll break her.
And that's the one thing I refuse to do.
Not again.
Never again.
I promised myself I'd make it up to her.
Every day.
And I will. For the rest of my life, if she'll let me.
But first?
Some sick son of a bitch thinks he can threaten her.
He thinks that Amanda Perkins is his—he’s so fucking wrong.
Terroristic threats and stalking?
Yeah, that ain't gonna fly.
I grab my work tablet and log into Sigma's secure network.
Immediately, I regret it.
A red notification flashes across the screen along with several missed texts.
FALCO
CONTACT ASAP
Shit.
Apparently Carter's already started screaming.
I open the message.
FALCO
CLIENT COMPLAINT RECEIVED.
URGENT.
RESPOND.
NOW.
Wonderful.
I glance over at Amanda.
Still asleep.
Still trusting me enough to sleep beside me.
The sight hardens something inside me.
I don't give a damn how rich Matthew Carter is.
Or how many private islands he owns.
He doesn't get to endanger her.
I open the secure messaging app.
And immediately see Noel Kane's name.
Perfect.
Now my immediate boss is on my ass. I text him back.
LESS
You online?
Three dots appear immediately.
Of course.
Noel never sleeps.
NOEL
Unfortunately.
Where the fuck are you?
LESS
Private jet.
NOEL
Tell me you didn't kill the billionaire.
LESS
Not yet.
NOEL
Encouraging answer.
I smile despite myself.
LESS
Amanda's sleeping.
NOEL
Good.
How's she doing?
LESS
Better.
Scared.
But better.
Long pause.
NOEL
And you?
I stare at the screen.
Because Noel knows me.
Knows exactly what he's asking.
LESS
She's the one I let slip away. I won’t make that mistake again.
Some fucker is after her, Noel. I have to stop him..
The response takes longer.
NOEL
Yeah.
I figured, and I get it. But the client is pissed.
I exhale.
Then type the thing that's been bothering me since that stupid breakfast tray showed up.
LESS
I already transferred the fee back to Carter. Besides, that prick might be behind all this.
Three dots.
Disappear.
Reappear.
NOEL
Explain.
I look over at Amanda again.
Remember Carter calling her Mandy.
Touching her.
Trying to feed her.
Trying to isolate her.
Inviting her to stay.
Wanting her alone.
Wanting her dependent.
And then—the note served on a breakfast tray.
Perfect timing.
Fear.
Control.
Isolation.
All part of classic manipulation.
LESS
Too convenient.
He tries to woo her with his big money, private show. He pushes her.
She rejects him.
Suddenly threats appear.
He insists she stay longer.
Wants her dependent on him.
No response.
Then—
NOEL
Fuck.
Exactly.
LESS
Yeah.
NOEL
You think he's escalating to force proximity?
LESS
Maybe.
Maybe he manufactured the whole thing.
NOEL
Remy's gonna lose his mind over this.
LESS
Remy loses his mind when Starbucks forgets his extra caramel.
NOEL
Fair point. Besides, I’m not positive it’s him. Not yet.
I smirk.
Then another message appears.
NOEL
Less.
LESS
Yeah?
NOEL
Don't do anything stupid.
I actually laugh. Cause when don’t I?
LESS
Define stupid.
NOEL
No murder.
LESS
Spoilsport.
NOEL
I'm serious.
LESS
Me too.
Three dots appear again.
NOEL
Bring her home.
Then I’ll let the team off the leash.
LESS
Jesus, Noel.
NOEL
What? They’ve been bored all week. We’ll take care of this asshole, Less.
LESS
Good. I was counting on it. Besides, the team bored? That's somehow more terrifying than some rich asshole with an unhealthy crush.
NOEL
Exactly.
And if it’s him? We'll bury the bastard professionally.
He’s right. We have work to do. If I’m going to find the stalker, to prove it’s Carter, I need to dig deeper.
I lock the screen and set the tablet aside.
Because right now?
Work can wait.
Amanda shifts in her sleep.
Murmurs something softly.
Then blindly reaches out.
Looking for me.
My heart damn near stops.
I immediately take her hand.
And she sighs.
Settles.
Still asleep.
Trusting me.
Needing me.
Maybe even loving me.
Jesus. I really fucking hope she can love me again.
I lean over and kiss her forehead.
Her eyelashes flutter.
“Less?” she whispers sleepily.
“I'm right here, Rusty.”
“Mmm.”
She squeezes my hand.
“Don't go.”
Fuck, that stings.
Because three years ago I did exactly that.
Three years ago I let fear make decisions for me.
Three years ago I walked away from the only woman I've ever loved.
Never again.
“Not going anywhere, Sweetheart.”
Her eyes remain closed.
A sleepy smile appears.
And just like that, every ugly thing inside me settles.
Because she's home.
Not New York.
Not Broadway.
Not Manhattan.
Me.
I’m her home.
And God help anyone who tries to take her away from me again.
Because this time?
I'm not letting go.