Page 7 of The Price of Forever

SEVEN: I told her you and Axel contracted me for a security assessment. She asked me to stop following her. I’ll swing by her apartment later and stick around until I see she’s home. Then I’ll reconfigure the plan tomorrow.

DAMIAN: Thanks. How’d she approach you? Mad?

SEVEN: She threatened to stab a heel through my skull.

DAMIAN: Okay. I guess that answers my question.

SEVEN: She’ll likely reach out. Be prepared.

DAMIAN: I’ll wear a helmet. You warned us this could happen. I just don’t understand why she doesn’t want to talk to us.

I stared at his message for a few moments, mulling over what she’d said to me. I didn’t understand it any more than he did. And with the way things were progressing with Jordan, I might not ever.

I stored my phone and pulled out of the parking lot. First stop, some late-night pho. I had time to kill before I staked out her apartment, since I had an inkling Jordan wasn’t just a one-and-done girl when it came to a night out with her girlfriend. As I accelerated down the street, heading for Chinatown, my mind drifted back to Jordan.

Those stormy, gray-blue eyes that doubled as a whip. The take-no-shit attitude that begged me to dive deeper.

But I wouldn’t go deeper with her. That wasn’t the M.O. The game plan was, and always would be to stay focused. Don’t open up. Just remain a brick wall. Complete the job. The rest would fall into place.

In a way, Jordan’s resistance to the assessment was a blessing in disguise. I didn’t want to be anybody’s close protection officer again for some undetermined amount of time, and I certainly didn’t want to be glued to the side of someone like her.

Because I already knew that Jordan would make the focus and brick wall portions of the job worse than difficult.

She would make them impossible.

CHAPTER THREE

JORDAN

I awoke with a gasp the next morning, drawing deep gulps of air. Seconds before, I’d been drowning. But as soon as my eyes popped open, the nightmare faded into wisps and shadows like it always did.

Until I couldn’t even remember what I’d been fleeing from or fighting.

The familiar setting of my bedroom sank into me. Cars honked in the distance and the undertones of an argument drifted up from the floor below. A plate smashed a moment later. It had to be that old couple in 3C. They only fought around lunchtime. I glanced at my phone: 11:56. Like clockwork.

I yawned and folded myself forward over my legs, opting for some bed yoga. My head pulsed lightly as I bent. Thanks, gin and tonics. I’d drunk more than I meant to—partly because I hadn’t been out with Roxie just the two of us in a while, and partly because I’d been desperate to forget about Seven.

The memory of him shuddered through me, and I melted into my forward bend. Why were his chocolate eyes so unforgettable? His handsome face felt like a deep, cleansing breath. And I couldn’t lie—I’d wondered on a few occasions last night what it would feel like to be wrapped up in those thick, strong arms. The man could probably crank out fifty push-ups as a warm-up.

I groaned into my kneecaps.

Reminiscing about Seven reminded me of the anger simmering beneath the surface.

Why the fuck had my brothers ordered me a stalker?

I didn’t go into it with Roxie last night. She didn’t need to know. In fact, nobody knew about my history. Where I came from, what happened with my family, that I was even related to Axel and Damian Fairchild, even though our last names were different now. It was just easier that way. The most I’d give up was that I came from Kentucky.

But as far as I was concerned, Kentucky was a graveyard for my former self.

I moved my body around, trying to cleanse my thoughts, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what transpired last night. Seven’s good looks were a red flag. Attractive men like that only led to bad outcomes, if our nation’s famous sociopathic history had anything to say about it. Eyelashes and beefy bicep combos like that? Yeah, couldn’t be trusted.

But really, his good looks were just the icing on a red-flag cupcake. I couldn’t believe what Axel and Damian had done. Hire a stalker? Just because they ran into me at the coffee shop? What a bunch of psychos. I deserve to live my own life, without them intruding. It’s been ten years since I last saw them. What right do they have to know anything about my life now? Much less follow me and snoop into every last corner.

My thoughts went from spinning to hurricane. After a few more minutes, I knew relaxation was completely off the table. I hopped out of bed, my heart thudding and cheeks hot.

They couldn’t do this to me.

And I needed to make sure they knew just how inappropriate and outlandish they were being.

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