“I… I told your dad.”
My eyes go wide. “What?”
“I went to visit him; I was worried about you and needed help.”
I tamp down my anger and close my eyes, fisting my hands. “You shouldn’t have done that, Stacey. If they find out, or he tries to do something, it’ll make it all worse. Don’t talk to him again, okay? Don’t talk to anyone about me. You’ll make it worse and my job harder.”
Her bottom lip shakes. “But…” She trails off. “How do I help you?”
“By leaving.”
Stacey goes ramrod straight at my bluntness. “What happens when I leave?”
“You don’t need to worry about that. As long as you’re safe.”
She’s quiet for a moment but then catches me off guard by climbing into my lap and burying her head into my shoulder.
For a brief moment, I have no idea what to do. She’s bracketing herself around me, hugging me, as my palms press into the mattress to keep me steady. I swallow, but when I feel wetness on my neck from her tears, I wrap one of my arms around the small of her back, fisting her hair.
I’m freefalling into a sea of tranquillity in her arms. My head is silent. My bones don’t shake, and I fill my lungs with her scent, wishing I could stay here forever.
I close my eyes, holding her to me. Her body cuddles into mine, one hand twisting into my hair and the other gripping my top at the back. Her hot breath is on my neck as she quietly weeps.
I massage my fingers into her hair, trying to keep my emotions in check. “Please don’t cry.”
“You weren’t supposed to have this life.” She’s shaking in my arms. “We should have moved away when we planned to. When I found out I was pregnant, we should have left and never turned back.”
There’s a tug against my heart. “I know.” I rub her back in small circles. No one has hugged me like this in so long. She was the only person I ever let get close to me, and I need to savour this while I can.
I lean back, remove my hand from her hair and tip her chin, so she looks at me.
“What we’ve been doing is risky. We can’t…” I blow out a breath, hating my words. “This.” Fuck. “We can’t.”
Silent, her eyes are lined with silver as another tear drops down her cheek. She doesn’t stop me as I kiss her forehead.
“Please pack your things.”
When she climbs off me, I check my phone, and I pale.
Bernadette: Five missed calls.
One voicemail.
Bernadette: Sebastian Ivanovich Prince. Twenty-three. Dark hair. Brown eyes. Six foot one. Father is a successful Russian CEO. Mother is a Scottish accountant. Bisexual. Drives a red Aston Martin. Has a scar on the back of his head from being hit with a glass bottle when he was seventeen. Shall I continue or do you understand?
Fucking shit. That means one thing.
Base officially has a target on him.
Keeping this side of my life a secret from my best friends has been hard going. So many times I’ve lied to get them off my back, but I think I need to tell them if Bernadette is going to start targeting them too. Base has a powerful family in Russia who could protect him. If Bernadette kills him, she’ll have a fucking war heading her way.
Relief fills me as Barry walks in – alive, watching me pace while Stacey zips her suitcase. “We need to leave now.”
I look at Stacey, at how shaken and emotional she is. It’s all my fault.
“Get her a vest,” I order, checking my gun is loaded, then shoving it into my waistband and gathering more weapons.
Stacey stares at the armoured vest in her hands, her brows knitting together.
I sigh. “Come here.”
She stands frozen as I take it from her hands and unfasten the straps to pull it over her head. Unblinking, she stares at my chest as I tighten it around her body.
“Breathe,” I say, and she blinks, looking up at me.
“I’m scared.”
I stare at her: the freckles dusting her skin – which is turning paler by the second – the still windswept hair, the forest-green eyes I’ve pictured an unhealthy number of times. “You’ll be fine.”
She doesn’t shy away when I grab a rifle from Barry and leave the hotel room.
Slowly, we walk down the corridor, Stacey in the middle. We’re joined by more of my men, and we circle her, shielding her, taking each step carefully in case Archie decides to ambush us.
When we reach the bottom of the stairway, one of the guards opens the back entrance, and we slip out.
The blast of a gun vibrates in my ears as one of my guys takes a bullet to the head. Stacey screams as I cradle myself around her and rush us towards the car while bullets fly from each side. I shove her inside the car, slam the door shut then open fire with rapid bursts until my rifle runs out of bullets.
I throw it down, grabbing my pistol from my waistband and shielding myself with the passenger-side door so I can start shooting again.
“You need to leave, sir,” one of my guards says. “We can hold them back.”
I swear to myself, because I never leave my guys behind, but I need to get Stacey out.
Barry rushes into the front, and we slide down the windows and shoot as he reverses out of the lot, swinging us into the road and accelerating .
Stacey stares at me, wide-eyed, breathless. “This is your life?”
I shrug.
She wipes a tear. “What happens now?”
I stop her from taking the vest off. “You go home. I’ll have you watched for a bit to make sure they don’t track you. You go on and live your life the way you have been.”
Maybe I’m being stupid, but I have to believe it’s possible, that she’ll make it out of this shit okay.
Stacey doesn’t say anything; eventually, she yawns and rests her head on my lap, and it stills me as she gets comfortable while Barry drives us to the hangar that’s over two hours away.
When she falls asleep, I lace our fingers, my other hand playing with her hair. “You should have stayed out of my life,” I whisper. “But you’ve always been there. Always.”
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
I glance up, my eyes clashing with my assistant’s. “What?”
“The more time you spend with her, the more danger she’ll be in.”
“I know that, Barry. Why the fuck do you think I’m rushing her out the country?”
“Sorry, sir, but she’s innocent and you’re…”
“I know,” I reply. “I fucking know.”
The drive takes forever and no time at all. I spend every moment of it staring down at her.
When we arrive at the hangar, Barry scans his badge to open the gates. The jet comes into view as we veer around the corner of an abandoned building.
“Wake up, Freckles,” I say softly, stroking her hair. She stirs, then blinks her eyes open. The corner of my mouth tugs absently, and I flatten my lips. “We’re here.”
The car stops as she rubs her eyes, trying to wake herself up. She looks out the window at the jet, my team waiting to both help her escape and fight the fight that will inevitably come here.
“Wait. What happens when I leave? Where do you go?”
The pilot appears as the stairs lower, his messy grey hair a sure sign we’ve dragged him out of bed.