Page 22 of Cautious

“Not much. Apparently, their hands are tied until this escalates, but it seems they are dragging their feet on this one,” Arlo says with some agitation.

“Seriously? After what she’s already been through, she must be terrified,” Marcus adds, crossing his arms over his chest in disgust.

“That’s just it. They think she might be imagining it. They haven’t found a shred of evidence to support her claim, and what’s more, she’s convinced that it’s the same person who hurt her before.”

“Andrew Summers?” Banner questions with a frown. “That’s impossible if he’s still locked up.”

“Like I said, Matilda never saw her attacker and couldn’t identify them. Andrew turned himself in and made a confession, but, according to Matilda, she wasn’t convinced it was him,” Arlo tells us with a frown of his own.

I get to the point. “Okay, what does she want from us?”

“She’s hired a security team, but she wants someone to be her close guard and move in with her until this guy is caught.”

“Why us? If she already has a security team in place, why not pick one of them?” Felix, who had been quiet up until now, asks.

“Trust,” I answer for him, thinking about Kellen’s words to me about Callie. “Security is just a job to most people and not necessarily a well-paid one. They’ll do their jobs to an extent, but would they take a bullet for her? I’m guessing she heard about the work we do and feels a camaraderie with the victims we protect.”

“So, are we going to take it?” Arlo asks, looking around at the guys, knowing this is a big job that will mean someone being away for an indefinite amount of time.

“That’s going to depend on if we have anyone willing to take the case. If not, I can bounce it to Edwards.” Edwards is an old friend I met at boot camp who has a similar setup.

“I’ll do it,” Aiden speaks up from where he is leaning quietly against the far wall.

“You sure?” I ask.

He hasn’t been himself since his break-up with Cora. I’m not sure where his head is at.

“Yeah, I could do with a change of scenery anyway.”

I nod, knowing that with the shit his ex has been giving him, this might be exactly what he needs—something to focus on and the chance to get away.

“Okay then. Get with Arlo and find out when you need to start, and we’ll get you the first available flight out there. You keep in touch, and if anything seems off to you, you call us, got it?”

“Yes, Dad,” he says with a laugh, making me scowl.

“Right, what’s next?” I ask, running through the files, hoping for a call from Callie at some point throughout the afternoon, but it never comes.

Callie

When I wake, it’s dark out. My head feels fuzzy, my mouth is dry, and if I didn’t vividly remember my crying jag earlier, I’d have thought I was hungover.

A glance at my watch shows it’s almost eight o’clock. I wasted pretty much most of the day. Mad at myself—okay, still somewhat mad at Blake, though the orgasm helped—I stomp over to the bathroom and climb under the shower’s hot spray, letting it soothe me.

Seeing no point in getting dressed in anything special now, I opt for sleep shorts and a soft camisole and leave my hair to dry naturally.

I head downstairs for some hot chocolate and something light to eat. I come to a halt when I see Blake standing shirtless in my kitchen with his back to me as he stirs something on the stove. I have the strangest urge to run my tongue up his spine but then remember, I’m still a little pissed at him. I fold my arms over my chest and cough to get his attention.

“What are you doing here?” I ask bluntly. No point beating around the bush. When I woke up to find him gone, I just assumed he’d left.

He turns and offers me one of his panty-melting smiles. Teamed with all those abs on display, it makes my brain stutter and my mouth start moving.

“Are we going to fuck now?” We both freeze at my words, him with a wooden spoon in his hand and me while I mentally try to sidestep the hole I just dug.What the fuck is wrong with me?

If I didn’t think I’d look like a raving lunatic, I’d slap myself stupid now.

“Well, I think you should probably eat first. I’m making pasta,” he answers like I didn’t just offer myself up on a silver platter.

And even though I’m pissed, confused, and angry still, his rejection stings.Jesus, when did I turn into such an insecure girl? Ah, hello, trauma, my old friend.

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