Accidental Shield (Marriage Mistake #6)(63)

An odd thing to think of. Fairies.

Yet, I do, and that makes me feel lonely.

This whole thing feels like some screwed up fairy tale, honestly.

That’s why I’d asked Flint to sleep in the same bed with me before. I didn’t want to be lonely.

It seems like a feeling I know too well.

Folding my hands together, I fidget with that halo I keep obsessing over. Flint’s ring, still on my hand, all shiny black pearl and promises never meant to be.

It’s pathetic, isn’t it?

I haven’t taken it off since the swim earlier, when I’d left it on the lanai table and promptly put it back on after he carried me to safety. Still haven’t asked him for the box, either, so I can put it back where it belongs and then have him bury it in his safe.

He said the ring was mine, but it’s not, it’s his.

Yet, lying here, twisting it around my finger, my sense of loneliness fades.

It’s a stunning ring. The most beautiful I’ve ever seen. A rare pearl, too much like the hulking, brave SEAL who’s already saved me several times over.

Go ahead and tell me how sappy that is. I don’t care.

A sigh leaves my chest as I remember our bodies being pressed together. Whatever hell I’m in, that was a slip of heaven.

No amnesia in the world could ever make me forget it.





10





Change of Scenery (Flint)





I have to start taking my own advice.

Hitting the shower the second I’m alone is a step in the right direction. Not because I’m worried about sea water, I’d rinsed that off while the chicken was wrapping up.

This time, it’s because I have a fucking hard-on that might drill a hole through the wall if I don’t get some ice on it like yesterday. It’s so many shades of wrong.

I haven’t been so hot and bothered by a chick in eons.

All of this shit would be a lot easier if she was homely and dull and, hell, I don’t know, a screaming bitch on wheels?

But Valerie’s none of those things.

She just has to be lethally gorgeous, bubbly, kind, intelligent, and scared.

Yeah. Time to start writing my dick’s last words.

The only thing that reins me from the urge to show her what this Flint can kindle is the last thing on that list. She’s scared out of her wits.

All thanks to her brother, the stinging fuck-Ray.

My rage nearly boiled over seeing him at the shop in Aiea.

Everything I’ve uncovered, everything my guys are working on, points to him being guilty as hell.

Val has nothing to do with the darker side of the family business. I couldn’t be more certain.

Whatever she found out that got her into this mess can’t be her doing.

Once I know she’s snoozing away, I sneak back to my room and collect a set of clothes out of the closet, then grab a pillow and blanket from the linen closet in the laundry room before finding a good place to flop down.

I glance into Bryce’s room as I’m walking past. Val’s right. There’s no way in hell I could sleep on the top bunk without wanting to saw my own legs off. They’d be hanging over the footrail from the knees down.

The couch will be fine. It’s just for a little while.

Now that this fake marriage shit is done, I don’t have to worry about slipping up. With her feeling better, I can get down to brass tacks, solving this case so everybody has a shot at a normal life again.

Still, there’s something pulling at my mind, keeping me wide awake long after I crash.

I think it’s knowing she’s just on the other side of this wall. In my bed.

Fuck.

I should’ve asked if she needed a pain pill or something before going to bed. Or maybe I should’ve popped a few myself to dull the ache below my beltline. It’s hotter than a grill on this sofa, even with just a sheet draped over my legs.

Turning, struggling to get comfortable, I shift my focus back to the case, going over what I still need to fill in the blanks.





*



Five Years Ago





I fight the churning waves, dragging Cash through the water, back toward shore.

It’s dark, the rough undertow of the current threatens to pull us both out to sea. I counter it, swimming harder, searching the black waters for other survivors.

Don and Miguel. I can’t see them. Can’t hear them. Jax stopped screaming less than a minute after our boat took a direct hit and blew our world apart.

Not a fucking good sign.

My feet touch the bottom after what seems like forever. Grunting, my teeth finally touch solid ground and I tug Cash to shore, his expression still dazed.

It’s rocky. Volcanic boulders or something. I pull him over several feet, find a spot where he’ll stay hidden, where I hope to fuck he’ll claw his way out of his stupor. “Sit tight. I’ll be back. I have to find Don and Miguel.”

“Go,” Cash whispers hoarsely, shaking his head. “Go.”

Goddamn, I can’t believe this.

How’d we miss an ambush?

This should’ve been an easy job for Damysus Security. Find the woman and her daughter, kick the asses of the men holding her hostage, and bring them home. I can still see her in my head, old photos with her face drilled into us by rote memory.