Page 29

Ava

With tacos and a Diet Coke in hand, I snag a table and whip out my phone.

There’s a man at a nearby table drinking a golden pale ale.

Condensation gathers on the glass. I remember the way a cold golden pale ale tastes on a warm day.

How my muscles relaxed with half a beer’s worth of alcohol swirling through my veins. But that’s not for me.

The waves breaking in the distance divert my attention, and I count them crash. The salty ocean breeze calms me, and with deep inhales, I suck it in and let it go. After the fifth wave, I press his name.

Patrick answers on the first ring.

“What have you gotten me into?”

“Wait a minute, now.” Patrick chuckles. “You’re a grown-ass woman. You chose this. What’s happening? Do I need to go down there and kick Jack’s ass?”

“Like you’d do that.” Patrick’s a lover, not a fighter, but his offer means a lot to someone like me. I’m short on people who look out for me.

“If he’s being an ass, I most certainly would. Or Mark would. Mark’s always going on about keeping Jack in line.”

Fisher stands off to the edge of the patio. He has his hands folded in front of him in a feeble attempt to blend in. The piece in his ear might be mistaken for a hearing aid, but if anyone studies him, it’s clear he’s scanning the area, searching.

“Is it his kink that’s getting to you, or his charming personality?” Patrick asks. “Give me some sense of what we’re dealing with here.”

I lower my head, letting my hair fall around my face, and speak with a low voice. No one’s sitting close to my table, and everyone out here is a stranger, but this conversation is personal.

“He’s not an asshole,” I admit. If I’m totally honest, the mad billionaire possesses some positive traits, as exemplified by his love for his daughter.

Observing him, living in his house, it’s probable he’s lonely.

“I mean, he’s definitely uptight. Untrusting.

He had security follow me down the beach. ”

“Where are you?”

“I went out to grab tacos.”

“Well, you can’t really blame the guy. Not after what he’s been through.”

Patrick is right. You can’t call it paranoia or even overprotectiveness, given they kidnapped his daughter.

“That’s actually kind of sweet he’s worried about you.”

“I don’t think that’s why.” My gaze locks with Fisher’s from across the sandy stone patio. “I think he’s worried I might sell out to someone.”

“What do you mean?” Patrick sounds truly stumped.

“Isn’t that how they do it? Kidnappers learn the routine first. Is there any chance someone is still after Sophia?” It might just be the constant presence of armed security, but I can’t help but feel there’s an omnipresent risk.

“From what I know from Mark, they got the guys responsible. Except, his crazy high reward got a lot of publicity. That’s like lotto money.

I guess… maybe some random could come after them.

” He clicks his tongue. “Hey, now, I know what this is. You don’t feel good about taking the money, and so now you’re assuming he thinks the worst of you.

And in your little head, the worst you could do is take money to sell out his daughter. ”

“My head’s not little.” There is absolutely no reason for him to use diminutive adjectives to belittle me. I exhale. “But yes, I hate I took his money.” It’s a crappy feeling.

“How’s the sex?”

A flash of the powerful orgasm ripping through my body heats my skin.

“Enjoyable.”

“Heh. So, Mark’s nephew isn’t as skilled as he is. Sorry about that.”

“I didn’t say—”

Patrick’s deep laughter interrupts my defense. Whatever .

“I don’t know, Patrick. I don’t feel good about this. It’s been a long time since I did something I didn’t feel good about.”

“You’re doing what anyone else would do. If I were in your shoes, I’d do it. Hell, one could argue I am in your shoes.”

It’s not the same thing, and he knows it, but I douse my taco with spicy sauce instead of arguing with him about the merits of his clandestine relationship with Mark.

“I think I might be in your neck of the woods next week. Want to meet for lunch?”

“Really? Why are you coming here?” I sit up straighter and speak louder. “Is something wrong at the center? I haven’t gotten any emails—”

“Girlfriend. Everything is fine. Mark has some meetings down that way, and he suggested we spend a night in Laguna.”

“Oh. That’s sweet. I love Laguna.” Laguna Beach is one of my favorite California beaches. The coastline is staggering, but it’s the small artist town that really makes it memorable. It’s between Los Angeles and San Diego, and it’s a perfect spot for a romantic getaway.

“You want to join us for a night?”

“Thanks for the offer, but you know I’m not into that.” I grin as he chuckles.

“You know damn well neither are we. Nah, I just meant if you need a break…”

“If I spend a night away from the compound, it’ll be back in my apartment and at Nueva Vida. And my master has made it clear that’s not permitted.”

A text comes through, and I squint to read it. One of these days, I’m going to break down and increase the font size on my phone.

Reid

Where are you? Call me.

“Patrick, let me eat my tacos before they get cold.”

We end the call, and minutes later, after devouring my meal, I call Reid.

Reid and I aren’t as close as we used to be. But he doesn’t have many people to lean on. Ideally, he will develop some connections while at Nueva Vida. He needs positive influences in his life. He needs a Patrick.

The phone rings and rings. I sit up straighter, preparing to leave an upbeat message.

“Ava?” Reid’s voice sounds distant, and I smash the phone against my ear.

“Reid? Is everything okay?”

“Where are you? You’ve been gone forever.”

“I told you I have a project. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks.” He breathes heavily into the phone. “Reid, are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just miss you.” He sounds sad, possibly borderline depressed. It’s a good thing I am far away, because it would be nearly impossible for me not to go straight to his apartment and offer him a hug, and I can’t be his crutch. “Do you want me to water your plants?”

“That’s really sweet, but someone else is doing that for me. How’s job hunting going?”

“Juliette has a few leads for me. She’s been pretty helpful. Maybe this time I won’t screw it up.”

“Hey. You’re doing good. You’ve got a job. You’re just looking for something better. This is all part of the process.” He knows that. He’s been through it more than once. I so much want to ask him how the group sessions are going, but I don’t want to push. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Well, I’d hoped I could talk you into picking a show with me.”

“I can do that from here.”

“Yeah, but you won’t be on the sofa with me. It’s not the same.”

I smile in spite of myself. Yeah, it’s a good thing I’m more than a couple of blocks away. “What kind of shows are you into these days? I spend a lot of time watching shows lately, too.”

“Really? Your project doesn’t keep you busy around the clock?”

My gaze meets Fisher’s. Oh, Reid. You have no idea.

“You always were this big workaholic girl. Leave it to you to build apartment buildings.”

I laugh. “I haven’t built any apartment buildings.”

“When you come home, come see me.”

“I will. You take care of yourself, okay?”

“Ava? Thanks for everything. You know, for paying and shit. Don’t know how you did it, but thanks.”

“No problem. I just want you to get better.”

After I end the call, I stand and clear my table. Reid sounded better at the end of our call. He’s going to get through this. I feel it in my gut. This time, he’s going to stay clean. And I helped that happen. Doing what I’m doing, getting him the money, alleviated a stress he didn’t need.

Fisher nods and gives me a smile. I wave in his direction, since we’re apparently not pretending we don’t know each other.

I press Juliette’s name. We cover off on life’s minutiae while I make my way slowly back down the beach.

“Are you making any headway with our investors?” She believes I’m here working with our primary backer on revised financials and securing additional funding. It’s not entirely a lie.

Jack leans over the balcony as I approach the house. The sun set long ago. Somewhere behind me, Fisher trails my path.

“I’m working on it. A few more weeks.” Two weeks, to be exact, but who’s counting?

The gate clicks closed, and I slip my phone into my pocket. The temperature has dropped, and goosebumps grow along my bare arms. I rush up the path to the side door and sling it open. A high-pitched beep sounds. The alarm system beeps every single time an outside door opens.

I glance behind me for any sign of Fisher before closing the door. I’m not sure what etiquette is when security trails you. Should I have held the gate for him? This door? There’s no sign of him, so I close the door and squeal in surprise.

An enormous shadow looms in the hall.

“Sophia has retired for the night.”

There’s a hunger in Jack’s eyes, or maybe it’s not exactly hunger. It’s an expectation. No, a demand. He wants me. He wants his release. His nightcap, if you will.

“Did you two have a good dinner?”

“You’re cold.” His gaze travels down my arms.

“The temperature—”

“You should have taken a jacket.”

I briskly rub my arms, attempting to eradicate the telltale bumps. But they’re not going away, probably because it’s not the temperature that’s bringing them about. Not anymore.

Jack’s hair is unkempt, like he’s run his fingers through it a million times.

The movement of his chest, rising and falling, draws my attention to the curves of his pecs, and the thick blood vessels that traverse his lower arms. His expensive gold watch glitters under the overhead light.

It’s the only thing about Jack that shines.

His hair, his eyes, his tanned skin, his angular jaw, and take-no-bullshit expression all hint of darkness.