Page 43 of Clear Shot

“Faster,” I whisper.

There’s no way he heard me over the engines and the wind, but he speeds up anyway. We’re that in tune to each other sometimes.

I should be afraid.

Going this fast is dangerous and illegal, but I trust him.

Aiden won’t let anything happen to me.

By the time we hit the Broward/Palm Beach County line, Aiden slows down and turns back west. It takes another thirty-five minutes before we get to Mr. Knight’s sprawling estate in the western suburb of Parkland, and the gate is open for us to pull in.

I don’t want to let go, or lose the magic of our ride, but there isn’t any choice.

“Go ahead and get off,” he tells me, “and I’ll put my bike in the garage.”

I nod and slide off the bike, avoiding his gaze because I’m afraid he’ll see how much I want to keep touching him.

“Hey.” He calls to me softly so I have no choice but to turn. “We’ll do that again.”

Then he guns the accelerator and heads toward the parking structure off to the side of the house. It’s a five-car garage attached by a covered walkway and I can see there are already five cars in there. But someone left a space for his bike and he maneuvers it in, and a man I don’t recognize goes over to make sure the vehicles are parked properly before starting to close all the doors.

Aiden meets me at the front door to the house and Mr. Knight opens it with a smile.

“Welcome. Come on in.”

“Thank you for inviting us,” I say politely. We’ve met a few times, but I don’t know him that well.

We move inside, but he stops us in the hallway. “Listen. My buddy Atlas has a private jet leaving out of the West Palm Beach airport in an hour.” He pauses. “But there’s only room for one.”

“Go,” Aiden says to me automatically. “I can take you and?—”

“No.” I don’t know where the word came from, but it pops out before I’ve really thought about what I’m saying. “If you’re staying, I’m staying.”

I’ve lost my mind for this guy.

I should be running for that jet but instead, I’m going to stay in a category 5 hurricane because I’m falling for my husband. There’s probably therapy in my future over this, but it’s too late now because Aiden is watching me carefully.

“Give us a minute, boss?” he asks quietly.

“Of course.” Mr. Knight walks away, and Aiden puts his hands on my shoulders.

“You should go.”

“Not without you.”

Our eyes lock, and the expression on his face reflects the same myriad of emotions I’m feeling: Worry, guilt, and confusion, tempered with a sprinkling of surprise and maybe a touch of pleasure.

Hewantsme to stay with him.

“I’ll be fine,” I whisper. “As long as I’m with you.”

“I can protect you from a lot of things,” he whispers back in a gruff voice, “but not natural disasters.”

“We’ll be safe here. Isn’t that why we came? Because we would be safe here?”

“Yes, but?—”

I lean over and firmly press my lips to his. “I’m not leaving you, Aiden.”