Page 22 of Chase's Kind of Trouble
I’m seeing a whole new layer of Chase. It’s impossible not to admire his strength and intelligence and planning his home so carefully.
“What is this place?” I ask, unable to keep the awe out of my voice.
“A bunker. Your safe place.”
That’s when I spot a book on the shelf near the plump leather sofa. Oh my god. Actually not one book, but several books that I recognize. My favorite author.
“Chase,” I say breathlessly, “why are all these books by my favorite author here?”
He pauses, hand raised to the screen he was working on. “Because I wanted you to be comfortable here.”
Wow. I’m flattered, but soon my analytical mind kicks in and I wonder for a tense moment, trying to put together the puzzle pieces.
Did he put the books in here while I slept?
Finally, I call out to get his attention again, “But…but when did you put them here?”
“Months ago.”
I gulp audibly.
“I saw you carrying her books with you to work.”
Ice water splashes through my cells. “Wait, is this the moment I realize I’ve been kidnapped, this is my cell, and you’re some kind of psychopath?”
Chase looks visibly rattled, like I’ve slapped him.
But before he can confirm or deny, a man walks into the room, he’s big, intense, and decked in tactical gear that I’ve seen only in action movies.
He’s also wearing a smirk. “Crash is only a psychopath on the battlefield. I can vouch for him.”
Chase, AKA Crash, and the man share a guy-hug and a back slap. The man standing behind the new arrival looks the same. Matching gear, but he’s not grinning, he’s silent, watching with eyes that are more wolf than human.
After both of the new arrivals half-hug and fist bump Chase, they get down to business and look through a series of live video feeds on the set of screens mounted by the doorway.
I’m too short to see past their shoulders, but from the conversation, it sounds bad. Several people have encroached on Chase’s land intent on breaching the house.
The pit of my stomach flutters, becoming heavy with dread. “So this isn’t a false alarm?” I ask from behind their tight formation.
Chase turns to look at me, wearing a hardened expression, his hands in large knots at his sides. “No. Jeremy’s dealer friends brought the fight to the wrong place.”
My hand flies to my mouth, a choked sound coming from my throat. “The drug dealers? They’re horrible, Chase. Don’t mess with them.”
Then a horrible thought hits me making my knees liquid and my stomach clench. “Don’t leave me here alone, they could find me and I know Jeremy will have told them to hurt me.”
Chase’s expression turns from stoic to murderous, his chest rising and falling like a giant piston.
“Sweetheart. They will not get to you. It’s okay. Everything is under control. You are the most precious thing in the world to me.”
When I shrink back, reaching for something behind me to steady myself, Chase strides over, looping his arms around my waist, pulling me against his chest. “Easy. I’ve got you. GhostDog and Stryker are going to be right here with you the whole time. You’ll never be alone, never be locked in any room. Ever.”
His words instantly soothe me, but new fear is fast in the wake. “Will you be safe?”
He brushes my hair back, kissing my lips softly. “Yeah. I’m good. This is what I do. Promise I’ll be back soon. Then we get down to business. And we’ve got some things to talk about. Think about where you’d like to get married while I’m gone.”
FOURTEEN
Chase
