Page 21

DENVER

The wind’s blowing Sinclair’s golden strands around her face as she sits with her face by the open window of my car.

“So where is this top-secret place of yours?” She sighs and closes her eyes against the sun, breathing in the fresh air.

We left the city over two hours ago. All signs of Manhattan and skyscrapers are firmly behind us.

“Close,” I reply, running my hand over my chin as I rest one elbow on the open window frame and hold the wheel with my other hand.

The familiar feeling seeps into my muscles, loosening them a little.

It’s not relaxation exactly, but it’s the closest thing I get to it being out here, away from it all.

“When do you even come here? I thought you had an apartment in the city?”

“I do,” I say to Sinclair.

She pops open her eyes and turns to me with interest.

“I’ve never seen your place. Do you live with Killian and Jenson.”

“Fuck, no.”

“Jenson’s jokes?” she asks with a smile.

“As well as the sounds I’m subjected to when either of them has company,” I reply.

Because Sinclair’s guess was good. I have lived with them both in the past. But it was short-lived, thankfully.

I’m too old for the shit that comes along with having two horny guys with boundless energy and a taste for regular female company as roommates.

“Oh. I guess it’s easier for you to have your own place… for when you’re dating and not having to spend every minute of your life with me,” she adds, looking out of the window again.

Her phone rings in her lap and she breaks into a smile as she answers it, putting it on speaker.

“Brad,” she gushes.

“Hey, Sin. You okay? I heard about what happened. Is that why our session got canceled today?”

My grip on the wheel tightens. He knows that’s why I canceled her sessions with him. I explained it all to the jackass when I called him this morning while Sinclair was packing.

“Yeah. It’s nothing. Just Dad being cautious.”

“So where are you?”

Sinclair’s gaze flicks to mine, and I jerk my head at her in warning. No one except family can know where she is.

“Oh, nowhere special, just taking some time out. I’ll be back in a few days.”

“He with you?”

“Who?”

Sinclair holds my gaze.

“That huge bodyguard of yours. The one who thinks he has a chanc?—”

“Yes, I’m with Denver,” she replies.

My nostrils flare with my deep inhale as I focus back on the road.

Brad Garrett-Charles. That fucker’s name is enough to make me want to smash his nose up into his brain.

There’s something about the way he looks at her, the way he touches her when she’s with him.

All checks on him have come up clean, but I still don’t like the guy.

“He’s the one who saved Monty. I trust him,” Sinclair says.

I glance back at her, but she’s staring out of the window again.

“You know who else you can trust? Me,” Brad says, his voice dripping with smarminess that Sinclair doesn’t notice.

“You’re sweet.” She giggles.

“Come on, Sin. You know I care for you. Tell me what I can do.”

She looks at me, puzzled, as I pull over on a patch of dirt at the side of the road.

“Nothing right now,” she replies. “I’ll call you when I’m back in the city, okay?”

“You do that, beautiful.”

“Bye, Brad.”

She smiles and hangs up.

“Why did we stop?” She surveys the deserted road we’re on that twists up the side of a large hill, then looks out over at the forest beneath us.

“Give me your phone,” I instruct.

“Why?” She wrinkles her nose but hands it over.

I open it up and take out the SIM card. Sinclair reaches for it, but she’s too late.

I snap it in half and toss it out of my window where it drops off the side of the road and disappears into the forest below.

“What the hell?” She gapes after it. “Why did you do that?”

I hand her phone back. “Be grateful it wasn’t the whole thing.”

“What?”

“Your phone can be traced. And until we know how advanced these guys are, we aren’t taking any chances. You can call your father and Zoey from mine while we’re away. It’s untraceable.”

“Oh, thanks so much, you’re so fucking generous.” She scoffs, slamming back into her seat and folding her arms. “It’s Brad. It’s not like he’s in on it.”

“No, he’s not. I already checked him out.”

She whirls her head in my direction to glare at me.

“But I don’t trust him,” I add.

“You’ve never given him a chance. You decided that you didn’t like him the moment you met him.”

I don’t correct her to the fact I didn’t like him before I met him.

“I never told you I don’t like him. I told you that Monty doesn’t like him,” I say.

Sinclair snorts.

“How do you know? Did Monty tell you?” Her eyes travel to Monty, who’s asleep on the backseat.

She said he gets sick in the back sometimes, but she begrudgingly admitted an hour into our trip that he seems to be okay when I drive, after he clambered into the backseat and made himself comfortable on a sweater of mine I’d left there.

“Well, did he?” She fixes me with a look.

“He doesn’t like him,” I say. “He likes to roll in cat shit, though. I’ve seen him do it.”

“Are you likening Brad to cat shit?”

“No. I said Monty likes cat shit.”

“Oh my god, you’re so…”

I wait for her choice insult, but nothing comes. Instead, she sighs and looks down at her phone.

I pull onto the road, leaning back in my seat as I drive.

“The cabin Wi-Fi will be disabled. The only thing your phone will be good for will be as an alarm clock for our morning sessions,” I inform her.

“You’re kidding? Denver?” she presses when I don’t reply. “Seriously? What am I supposed to do without Wi-Fi?”

“You won’t need it.”

“Wait? What sessions?” She shoves at my ribs. “Den?—”

“I’m going to train you.” I sneak a look over at where she’s fallen into silence. “You want to go back to the city for your show next week? Then you’re going back prepared.”

“Prepared?” She scrunches up her face. “So what? You’re training me in how to be a Brute?”

“I’ll teach you how to defend yourself and get out of a situation you don’t want to be in.”

She sags into her seat, her face twisting over in thought. “You’re teaching me?” she muses.

“That a problem?”

“No,” she mutters. “Because I’ll kick your ass.”

I glance at her, but she’s still staring out of the window.

“Boot it to the fucking moon.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder.

My lips tilt up. “Good. Keep that fire. You’re going to need it to fight me.”

“Uh-huh, Brute, whatever you say,” she sing-songs. “You’ll get your ass handed to you.”

I run my tongue over my teeth, amusement bubbling in my chest. “We’ll see, Princess. We’ll see.”