Among the Echoes (Wrecked and Ruined #2.5)(55)

Slate sent us first in case there were any paparazzi staking out his place. He says that it’s rare for them to track him outside of LA but not completely unheard of. With his retirement announcement still fresh, he didn’t want to take any chances.

"Well, it’s definitely a step up from the last place," Leo says, dropping his bag beside me.

This morning, Leo officially withdrew us from the Witness Protection Program. I thought it would have been a long process with lots of paperwork to reclaim our identities, but not even three hours later, a manila envelope appeared on our doorstep with driver licenses, passports, and birth certificates enclosed inside. I am officially Erica Renee Hill again. I’m so freaking excited that I can’t even bring myself to be scared.

"Did he tell you where we are supposed to be sleeping?" I ask Leo, who is currently typing numbers into the security panel, locking things back down.

"I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that you will be sleeping in his bed and I’ll be in the guest room," he answers, being his usual smartass self.

"Do you think he really wants to share a room? That’s like moving in together."

"You’re kidding, right?" he asks with a slight laugh.

"No, I’m not kidding! I’ve never lived with a man before." He gives me the ‘Oh, really?’ look that makes me shout, "You don’t count!"

"Babe, I’m pretty sure you got married last night. There may not have been a ring or preacher, but you definitely got hitched. I won’t even begin to tell you how many zeros are in my security budget. Call me crazy, but I think he’s serious about you."

"Shut up. I know he’s serious, but living together is a totally different story. And wait. How many zeros are we talking?"

He laughs and ignores my question. "I’m gonna look around. Find that man’s room, because I’m not brawling over why your bags are still in the foyer when he gets here."

I wander around his apartment in awe of how big this place actually is. From what I can tell, it consists of four bedrooms, five bathrooms, a rec room, a huge, open den/dining room combination, and a kitchen that would make any chef jealous. It’s clean, uncluttered, and very minimalistic—just like the man who owns it.

I finally stumble upon a massive master suite that causes my jaw to drop. It’s decorated with stark, white walls, but the curtains and bedding are blood red. The king-sized four-poster bed juts out from the corner. But how I really know this is his room is because it’s the only one covered in pictures. I’m not just talking memorabilia from his fighting days either.

Slate is a different person in the public eye, but this room is filled with pictures of my Slate with various people. Some I recognize as his mom or his trainer, but what really steals my breath is the one of me smiling in a selfie. I remember him snapping it of us back when I thought he was just Adam Andrews. We were lying in bed, and my head is turned into his chest to hide from the camera, but my smile is unmistakable. If I didn’t know it before, it’s plainly obvious to any onlooker that I loved him even way back then.

"I love that picture," he says from the doorway.

"Shit!" I scream, spinning to face him.

"Damn, I’m sorry." He hurries into the room, wrapping me in his strong arms.

"Shit," I repeat into his chest, trying to catch my breath.

"It’s just me, beautiful."

"Just so you know, the no-sneaking-up-on-me rule will always be intact."

"Noted." He kisses the top of my head.

"Any issues?" I ask, looking up into his amazing eyes and crooked grin.

"None. I stopped to drop off the rental and picked up food too. I hope you like Japanese."

"Oh please tell me you got sushi and hibachi. I haven’t had Japanese since I moved from Florida."

"Well, I am absolutely on point tonight then. I’m pretty sure I got enough food to feed the entire building." He leans in, and I suck his bottom lip into my mouth, grazing it with my teeth as I release it. "Or maybe just enough to feed you." He smiles.

"Smart man." I laugh and head out of the room with Slate’s arm pulled tight around my shoulders.





It’s been an exhausting evening. Leo and Slate had a little security meeting while I hid in the bathtub with my Kindle, ignoring the outside world. I know I should be more involved with things like that. It is, after all, my life they are protecting, but I know myself. There are two speeds—dramatically obsessed and ignorantly blissful. For tonight, I chose the latter.

Leo’s face was none too happy when he summoned Slate into the security room. Call me crazy, but I trust both of them. I am completely okay with them only giving me the pertinent information right now.

Slate and I are in bed after some absolutely amazing sex when I decide to finally ask him the one question I’ve been dying to know about.

"Will you tell me about your mom?" I whisper, kissing the underside of his jaw.

"Well that took you long enough." He smiles, sliding down so we are at eye level, facing each other. We have most of our serious chats in bed, and apparently, this is Slate’s talking position. He places a hand on the curve of my waist and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"You don’t have to…"