“Oh, that’s great.” I make a face. “Or maybe we shouldn’t be celebrating.”
Blue says nothing, just kisses the top of my head as he sits beside me—confirming that someone did have to die for her to get the room. It makes sense, considering where we are. It makes sense wherever we are. Death has always followed me, from the time I was too young to understand.
That hasn’t changed now that I have Blue by my side. He’s a killer and a soldier. He’s a fighter in every sense of the word. And I love him just the way he is.
“Are you okay?” he asks quietly. He’s really asking how Mrs. Owens is doing today.
She can hear us, but she isn’t listening. Her eyes are far away, the cup clattering against the saucer as her hands tremble. I take them from her gently and set them on the table. In a few minutes she’ll come back to us. The moments happen more frequently, but they bother me less. As long as she’s happy and comfortable, then I am too.
“I was just telling her about your new company.”
He stretches his legs and leans back on the sofa. He wraps his arm around me, the picture of a relaxed male. I’m glad he comes with me to these visits. I didn’t even have to beg—or fuck him, which was Candy’s helpful suggestion. Of course, we mostly do that every night anyway.
Sometimes mornings too.
“Think I can cut it?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. I can’t help but smile. “If you get scared, you can always come to me for help.”
He’s just digging for compliments. Only weeks after putting feelers out for security services, he had a full roster of clients. Apparently being skilled and stone-cold in the military had earned him a reputation. It turned out he hated working at the club more than I did—but he insisted on watching over me. Only when I quit did he consider leaving too.
Ivan is a little pissed to lose his head of security, but he was the first one to sign the contract with Blue Security to staff and train the bouncers at his club.
“You should,” Mrs. Owens says suddenly. “Hannah’s the strongest person I know.”
My eyes heat with tears. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
A trembling hand covers mine. “The strong ones never think they are. They’re too busy surviving.”
And I think that just might be true. It’s definitely true for Blue. He knows he’s strong physically—skilled with his fists and with guns. He made himself that way so he’d never be kicked around again.
He doesn’t always know he’s strong inside. He thinks that part of him was crushed long ago, that he’s been dead inside for five years. I know different. He was waiting—just like me.
I take his hand in mine, and for a brief moment all three of us are connected, the past and the present and hope for the future. Then Mrs. Owens smiles blandly and turns to Blue as if she’s just noticed him. “Sugar?”
“Please,” he says.
We stay and drink tea for a few more minutes and promise to return soon. I have more time to see her now that I’m studying for my GED. I hope to take some classes at the community college in the fall.
The sunshine blinds me when I step out of the building. I haven’t seen this much sunshine in years, always arriving and leaving the Grand when it was dark outside. It’s given my skin a new golden hue that Blue enjoys exploring with his tongue. And it’s given me hope.
“What are your plans for the day?” I link my arm in his as we head down the sidewalk. We’re two blocks away from his apartment. Our apartment now. “Work, work, and more work?”
I’m teasing him because he’s been flooded with interest. Which means lots of meetings with CEOs and city politicians. And that means I get to see him in a suit and tie. He fills them out beautifully but finds them stifling to wear. He’s always eager to tear it off when he gets home—and I’m happy to help.
“Some of that,” he says. “Mostly phone conferences. I wasn’t planning to go into the office today.”
“No?”
“Well, I knew we were coming here so I deferred the in-person meetings until tomorrow. And besides, I had the most important job waiting for me here.” He’s got that look on his face, a little shy, a little proud—it means he’s going to say something sweet.
“What’s that?”
We stop in front of his building, the broad expanse of glass reflecting sunlight and the clasp of our bodies. He rests his hands on my hips, bending his head so only I can hear. “Protecting you.”
I smile. “Silly, I’m already safe.”
“Are you?” He kisses a line along my cheeks and over the bridge of my nose. “Are you sure?”
“You could check,” I say, already breathless. This is how he starts—and he doesn’t stop, not until he’s kissed every inch of me. There’s a place between my legs, pulsing, desperate for his mouth.
“I think I should,” he says with complete seriousness. “I wouldn’t want anyone to accuse me of slacking on the job.”