Page 97 of Runaway Hearts: Seduced by Danger

We’re both on vacay here, captain. Not dealing with this until I return. Then we can (spaghetti emoji) his (ballerinaemoji).

I hope Kai is going to take care of it the way we talked. With me. But Arietta could have one smash... out of friendly sharing.

Ari —

Ooh. Talking dirty to me, now. I love it. You know I could have him (military helmet emoji), right? EASY.

Arietta tends to be so bright and colorful that I sometimes forget she’s a high-ranking officer in the military and, therefore, has formidable reach and means. Even if Donovan’s a cop, he’s first and foremost her sub. I’m not familiar with all the details of their dynamics, but Arietta is Don’s priority—the four-inch letter tattoo of her name on his chest proves it, and so does the O ring leather bracelet he always wears.

Me —

Stand down, captain.

Arietta doesn’t take orders well, but it’s worth trying.

Ari —

For now. Kissing emoji.

My heartbeat thunders in my ears, and I press a hand to my chest, trying to steady myself.

I delete Eric’s text without reading farther, the finality in the motion more liberating than I expected.

No matter what the message says, it’s irrelevant. But I’ve never been strong enough to erase him from my contacts.

Part of me thought I’d go back to him. Be one of those sad, sad statistics who end up in the hospital again and again until I die.

Delete contact?

“Yes,” I whisper as I finally erase him from my life.

Block?

“Yes.”

Air flows in my lungs, and I’m glad it does for the first time in years. I’m happy my heart beats. I clutch the phone to my chest, the warm glow of healing pumping in my veins and slowly erasing the gloom that overshadowed every second of my past.

I call Victor, but I am unable to resist sharing that small success with him. After three rings, it goes to voicemail. Anxiety pricks at me. That’s weird. I text him.

I deleted him. It’s done.

My thumbs hover over the “send” icon. My breath catches, fingers trembling.

Why am I hesitating?

I press “send,” my heart rolling like a tumbleweed in a tornado.

Unknown —

Require clean up?

What the fuck? Is my phone on surveillance? By who?

Confusion freezes me, my jaw dropping. My heart hammers, fear and disbelief intertwining.

I might connect the dots well, but I fail to link those events. Information doesn’t add up. I’ll have to ask Kai.

But then, my phone rings, causing my brain to reset. Incoming call: Victor Salem.

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