Fractured Sky (Tattered & Torn #5)(63)

Holt scrolled through the report on his phone. “None of these guys are good dudes. I’m glad you’ll have tighter security here and two of my guys shadowing you—”

“Shadowing me?” Shiloh stiffened at my side.

Holt looked up. “I told Beck that I recommended a security detail until you found out who was behind this.”

Shiloh glared at her brother. “And I told him that I’ve felt like a prisoner for too long already. I’m not going to have strangers following me around everywhere I go.”

“Be reasonable,” Beckett argued.

Her eyes narrowed. “How about you try listening? I’ve made it clear how I feel about this, Beck. I’m done living like I’m still a prisoner in that damn shed. I told you why I felt that way, but you didn’t listen. You just did whatever you damn well pleased. But here’s the thing, they need my permission to guard me because I’m a grown adult—”

“I know you are.”

“Do you?” Shiloh pushed. She let out a breath, but I could feel her trembling next to me. It wasn’t fear. It was anger. “Then trust me to know what’s best for myself. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

Beckett ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands. “I’m sorry. I just…it would kill me if anything happened to you.”

His voice cracked on the words, and it was all he needed to melt Shiloh’s anger. She strode towards her brother and wrapped him in a hug. “Something could happen to any of us at any time, but we can’t stop living because of it. I’ll be as careful as I can be without caging myself. I promise.”

Beckett pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Okay.”

Holt glanced over his shoulder at the four people who had obviously been intended as Shiloh’s security detail. “Let me regroup and come up with a new plan. We’ll figure this out.”

Shiloh stepped back towards me. “Thanks, Holt.”

“No problem.” He grinned at her. “It’s good to see your fire.”

Shiloh’s cheeks reddened. “It’s been nice to find it again.”

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. I was so damn proud of her for speaking her mind and holding her ground. I pressed a kiss to her temple. “I have an idea.”

She looked up at me. “Please, tell me it’s not one of those chips that will tell you my location at all times.”

I barked out a laugh. “No, but that’s not a bad thought.”

Shiloh smacked my stomach.

“How about we have your family over for a barbeque this afternoon? It might ease everyone’s mind to check out the new security and see that you’re handling all of this like a champ.”

Shiloh’s ice-blue eyes widened. “Ramsey…”

I pulled her tighter against me. “I think it’ll help.” It was the last thing I wanted—more people I didn’t really know swarming my home—but I’d do it. For Shiloh.





30





SHILOH





I poured the pasta salad into a serving bowl as Ramsey slid a platter of marinated chicken into the fridge. I couldn’t help but study the space around us. I’d only been in Ramsey’s house once, and just the entryway. If I didn’t know Ramsey had a way with food, I wouldn’t have thought the kitchen fit the man at all. It was light and airy with a massive range, a second oven on the opposite wall, a farm sink, and enough gadgets to sink the Titanic.

Warmth hit my side. “What is it?”

“I’m just picturing you in this space.”

Ramsey grinned. “You know I like to cook.”

If I’d forgotten, he’d made that abundantly clear when we’d gone to the grocery store earlier. When I suggested getting already prepared foods for the barbeque, he’d looked at me as if I’d suggested shooting him in the chest.

“And you’re good at it.” I licked the pasta salad dressing from my thumb. “Nothing I make ever turns out this good.”

Ramsey wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in close. “I’ll cook for you any time you want.”

“Careful, I could get used to that kind of treatment.”

“I want you to get used to it.”

Apprehension and hope battled within me. I wanted that so badly, to rest in everything Ramsey was to me, the comfort he brought, and so much more. But it terrified me, too.

Like always, Ramsey seemed to sense that battle. He dropped his forehead to mine. “You’ve got the reins, remember? This is your show. Your pace.”

“It’s ours.” I didn’t want this thing between us to be solely mine. It had to be something we built together.

“Okay, it’s ours. But you have to use the brake if you want it.”

“I will.” What worried me more was that I’d always be too scared to step on the gas. I wanted Ramsey with everything I had in me, but I couldn’t seem to get myself to take that first step for more.

A buzz sounded, and Ramsey pulled his phone out of his back pocket. He tapped the screen a few times. “Your family’s here.”

“How’s the five-angle shot of them?”

Ramsey chuckled. “Clear enough to see your mom brought that lemon meringue pie with her.”