Page 215 of Bona Fide

“Just sit down,” she professes gently. “Breathe through your nose and out of your mouth. You need—”

“Where the fuck is she?!” It’s cracked—everything. My voice, my body, my soul and heart.

My whole fucking world. I’m being driven to my wits end, and I can’t stop the acceleration of all this. I brought this upon the woman that I love, and there was no pumping the brakes. I’m plummeting headfirst without a safety net and lugging Reagan right along with me.

This is everything that was never supposed to happen. The entirety of every scenario that I knew might happen if I hired Reagan.

“There was a gunman who showed up. She’s—”

“Don’t fucking tell me that.” I drift back from her, batting away her words because they’re not true.

I won’t let them be.

However, Emmy’s brown eyes hold the validity of the words looming between us. Mine, they burn. My irises sting as I stare back at her like she has two heads.

“Em, please don’t.”

Her dainty fingers grip on to the sleeves of my Kiton suit. “Marty showed up. She’s alive.” A strangled discharge of air escapes my mouth like I was being strangled to death and given the opportunity to regain myself. “She’s on her way to—” The door to my office swings open, jerking my gaze to it.

Marty stands in the doorway, hair and clothes drenched from the rain and glaring at me like I just did something to him.

Maybe I did.

Fuck, I’ve done something to everyone who’s come near me.

Stepping aside, another figure appears behind the sullen wall of man whose only expression towards me is pissed. This one smaller and shorter—and mine.

Reagan’s dark hair is plastered to her face, her violet eyes immediately fall on me, and it’s all I need. She’s alive, doesn’t look to be hurt as she sprints to me and crashes into my frame.

My arms enclose around the shell of her soaked clothing that’s seeping into my suit. Her invigorated breathing begins to slow as my hands cup both sides of her head to examine her face, every bit of it, then down her body, looking for any trace of blood.

“She’s fine,” Marty snaps suddenly next to us. “Close the door, Tsarina.“ Pulling from my grasp, she does, and I don’t like the way her eyes appear.

They look defeated.

And I definitely don’t like the way her brother just ordered her around like he just did. With my eyes boring into his face, I don’t even get to open my mouth before he speaks again.

“Mr. President, you can serve the country safer now.” The motherfucker salutes me. “You’re welcome.”

“Thanks to whom?” He hits me head-on with his confident and cocky-ass look of impassiveness.

“Me.”

“Marty,” Em sounds off from behind me. “Take a seat, I didn’t get to tell him everything.”

Mother of fucking hell.

“Get on with it then,” he instructs with a wave of his hand. “I still have plenty of—”

“I’ll be calling the shots around here,” I growl, suddenly closer to him. My adrenaline is sky-high, fury starts to boil in my gut, and I’m about half a second away from taking my chances and having him meet my fist. “You’re not the fucking—”

“The fucking what?” he shoots back through a glower. “I’m the motherfucker that just saved your ass.”

“According to Em, that was her that shot the assassin.”

Marty lets out a forced chuckle. “And I just saved your entire existence by killing your wife.” I don’t get to respond because Em stands in between us, her attention landing on Marty.

“Sit the hell down so I can tell him.”

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