Page 189 of Bona Fide

Wade’s jaw tightens, but he yanks his eyes from mine. “I have men that will be overlooking your safety as well as your mother and brother when everything materializes to the public. She’s going to lose her shit and is already involved with the wrong crew. I just need you safe so I can sleep better at night knowing that.”

“You should’ve had Emmy tell me all of this. I—” His blues hit me.

“I heard she had a lovely conversation with your brother. So, no, this couldn’t be a conversation between you and Em, nor was I going to text you all this information for it to be found. I’m not supposed to be here, and I have to catch my flight back.”

“Did you lose Chase’s number?” My back slams into one of the shelves behind me, the souvenirs rattling, threatening to fall, but nothing does. I didn’t mean for it to be a petty comeback, but, I mean, it would’ve worked. Not him taking the chance of Demi finding out where he was, which would domino right to me.

“This isn’t a game, Sox,” he sneers, gripping onto my biceps. “We both know what happened before.”

“Of course I do, my mother almost died. I became the whore of—”

“Fully aware and didn’t ask for the recap of the last year.” He reaches behind his jacket and pulls something out. A Glock lies within the palm of his hand, and I subconsciously take a step back just to get nowhere. “Use this if someone tries some shit.”

“No.” I shake my head. “Are you insane?”

“I need you safe,” he repeats. “This will keep you safe. It’s already registered in your name and—”

“Great, so they can trace the bullets back to me if I have to pop a cap in someone’s ass? No, thanks.”

“Take the fucking gun, Reagan,” he chides. “I’m not fucking around this time.”

“I wasn’t fucking around the first time.”

“Always with the mouth,” he gripes with a small shake of his head. “I have something else you can do with it if you’re looking to work it out, Miss Shelton. I’m not in the mood, and I have a lot of built-up aggression, so try me. I’m begging you.”

My lips part, which catches his attention. My chest heaves, lifting my breasts, which gains his gaze next.

I’m begging you.

Yeah...

“I don’t do guns,” I mutter. “I don’t like them.”

“And you won’t like me fucking you while children are around to ask their parents about the noises you’ll be making. Take the gun.”

“I—”

“It’s not loaded.” He pulls a clip from his back pocket. “You know how?” I nod before the crook of his index finger grazes underneath my chin.

The sadness in his eyes makes my stomach kink in knots. I’m looking up at a man who’s about to go to war, and I’m his biggest liability.

And he’s mine.

I have a feeling we would burn the world down for each other. Our deadly romance would wreak havoc on innocent people, but we’d still do it because it’s the passion and captivation that laces into our veins for each other.

We’re not Romeo and Juliet by any means, we’re worse. We’ll affect a whole country and millions of people, not just Mama and Marty. Our names would go down in history as a love affair that was inappropriate and traitorous in a way to the sanctity of marriage.

But it’s here. And there is no fighting that it’ll always be here.

“This will be the last time you have to lay eyes on me,” he professes. “I have a job to do, and you’re the only thing in this world that is worth saving to me. Then there is the country I promised to uphold, that I swore I’d protect. But I can’t do that when you’re walking around with no idea of what’s happening. Or what’s coming. Don’t watch TV, Sox, it’s going to be a shit show.”

He takes a step back and holds out the gun again, silently urging me to take it.

To make him feel better.

And though I despise having a gun in my possession, I take it, for him, just so it can give him some sort of relief.

“Take care of yourself,” he croons. “Promise me.” He knows how much that means to me. And that’s why he’s never promised me a damn thing. Everything in his life was somewhat sporadic and not reined in, which meant he couldn’t give me what he knows I deserve.

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