Page 221 of Bona Fide

“Yes, I fucking can.”

“No, you fucking can’t. Those Russians are still looking for me, and they know you and Mama might exist still.”

“What?!”

“When I showed up to your apartment in New York, remember, I was all bloody and shit?” I nod. “I got my ass kicked by a few of their henchmen and barely made it out. I probably have two broken ribs right now, but I’m not limping around because you’d never let that go. I set someone up in your apartment and Mama’s house to make my story stick. No one knows you two are alive. I lied, when I got captured before I came and—”

“Captured where?”

“Vegas.”

“Explain.”

“My buddy, Bishop—the Hulk, stop calling him that, by the way. We were hiding out and scoping out these Russian targets we were assigned to. Thought they could be here in the States for reasons they shouldn’t be. They...did some shit, and I denied your existence. So I took you and Mama to Yellowstone and put other females in your place.”

“So we’re still in danger?”

“Until my team finds them, yeah. So you’re stuck with me, Tsarina, I’m sorry.” He rounds me, making his way to the door. “Lock this behind me.”

“I want to see Wade,” I blurt. My brother’s step halts, but he doesn’t turn to face me. I already know he’s leaning off the edge of no, but he’s in no place to tell me anything right now.

“I’ll text Emmy,” he finally says after a second. His hand reaches the door, but I stop him again.

“Marty.” He peers over his shoulder, sadness written all over his features. I stride for him, stopping when I’m about a foot away. “I want to see those documents and...I still love you.”

“But you’re leaving me.” My jaw hurts from keeping myself from breaking out into a sob or displaying that I’m a wreck right now.

“Not yet,” I reply. “But I would still like to see those papers so I can learn for myself.”

He bows his head. “Whenever you’d like, I have them on a USB.”

“Okay.” His finger brushes the side of my face in one soft swoop, and my father’s murderer leaves me along to let every single one of his truths seep into my brain.

* * *

The momentmy hotel room door swings open, I’m off my bed and into Wade’s arms. He picks me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as he squeezes me to him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” I mutter into the crook of his neck. He smells like fucking peace and quiet, the same soothing cologne that he always wears.

“Tell me,” he states. “I can’t be here long, Sox. The press and—” My head pulls from my safe spot and around to his face. I don’t respond with anything but latching my lips to his.

Immediately, I’m coaxing his mouth open and realize in that moment how selfish and manipulative I am for calling an SOS for him to come to me because I need someone, all while he’s fake mourning his dead wife. He’s dealing with God knows what, and I’m throwing a fit over my brother never telling me that he, in fact, wasn’t my blood and Mama knew all along.

That he assassinated my father.

The people I loved the most—they all lied to me. Even the man in my arms is a fucking liar, and for some fucked-up reason, I can’t let any of them go.

The realization that I’m not strong at all nips at my brain as Wade follows me with a lust-filled kiss and his hands squeezing my ass.

I’m no different than anyone else.

“What’s wrong, Sox?” Wade asks me again, pressing his forehead to mine. “What can I do to help—”

“Just kiss me,” I deadpan before taking his lips again. I can feel the heavy exhales of his breaths through his nose hit my upper lip. The way his hard chest seizes every few seconds.

I still love you. I always will.

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