Page 82 of Whatever It Takes

I’ve spent my whole life around dangerous men, and I don’t think any of them were as cunning as Easton. It’s slightly concerning and equally impressive. He thinks of everything. There’s a certain comfort in that, but I’m a mess.

I know it.

My guys know it.

It’s a known fact.

My brother isn’t half as scary as my father was, but he’ll have kept on our father’s enforcers. They’ll advise him the same way they advised my dad, and that’s the part that worries me.

Easton spends most of the day on the phone with his teams.

Calder spends his time coordinating on a random computer that I think he acquired from the guys who took the SUV back to Vermont.

Keir and I go pick up a lovely weapons cache from Shaw. He’s one of the guys who used to come into the office regularly, and he pulls me in for a giant bear hug as Keir moves the duffel bags to the trunk of the car we’re now traveling in.

“Congratulations on bonding.” His nose twitches. “Aww, hell, you smell stressed, sweetheart. Don’t worry. East called in the best teams, and he’s paying international combat pay withoutthe shitty international flight.” Shaw pats my shoulder and steps back. “You’ll have me and Leo watching you from above, and I’ve been itching to break two-forty for a while.”

“Jesus Christ, Shaw,” Keir mutters.

I have no idea what that means, and I blink up at the mercenary who I once thought seemed out of place with the guys at the office.

“The Pentagon only confirmed a hundred and fourteen of those, but some are classified, and East keeps me busy.” Shaw boops my nose. “Don’t stress, though. It’s not good for your cortisol levels.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, trying to remember a time when my life wasn’t absolute insanity.

“Anyway, don’t worry. I’ll drop those motherfuckers before they even have a chance to aim at you,” he says with a goofy smile on his face as he holds up a hand for a high-five.

Were they all just on their best behavior when I first got hired?

My palm slaps against his.

Yep. This is definitely a full-blown trip to crazy town.

It’s middle-of-the-night late, and if Shaw is right, my cortisol levels are through the fucking roof.

Easton turns toward me in the back of the car. His hand comes to rest on my thigh, giving me a tender squeeze. “This will be over before you know it.”

I give a clipped nod. “Yeah, maybe I should stay in the car with Calder?”

He frowns, unclipping his seat belt and scooting to the middle. “Focus on the bond and study that feeling. You haveto know, I would never bring you into a situation that I don’t have complete control over.” His massive palm lands on my right cheek, and he runs his thumb over my lip. “I think it will be cathartic for you to see the last vestiges of your family exterminated, but if you disagree, speak up.”

Little crinkles appear around his eyes as he studies my face, and, based on the tingling in the bond, he tries to feel out where my head is at.

My shoulders bounce as my heart races.

I don’t know if it’ll help me feel safer or if it’ll send me back to how traumatized I was after the wedding. I’m finally at a place where I’m not afraid of my own shadow, and I don’t want to lose all that progress.

“Not one of us would let you walk into the meeting if we weren’t confident that we can handle it,” Keir says from the front seat. “With that being said. If you don’t feel safe, stay with Calder. He’ll have a team watching the vehicle.”

I bite my lip as Easton raises a dark, bushy eyebrow. All the times Titus smacked me in the back of the head file through my mind. Or the times he purposely shoulder-checked me, slamming me into a wall. He tormented me for no reason, and he preferred things like pulling out my hair or slapping my skull, because he knew said hair would cover the marks.

Not to mention the vile things he and his friends used to say. He never cared how they treated me. For him, it was all about enjoying my fear and causing me distress. He taunted me and made a point of telling me how much worse life would be if our father wasn’t around to protect me.

That scared the shit out of me, because my father’s version of protecting me was dismal. It resided in the basement of hell, essentially. It consisted of ensuring none of his men sexually assaulted me and making sure no one left any permanent scars.

Easton waits patiently, but I can feel how badly he wants me there. Who knows why…maybe he just wants me to see him in action?

“Okay,” I agree.

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