Page 24 of Stolen By the Hit Man
“You can joke all you want, but I think I need to keep my distance while you’re here.”
Jasmyn blinks slowly. “You don’t need to do that.”
My hand grips the edge of the cold marble countertop. “You need to get checked out by a doctor.”
“My head is fine.”
I try to give her my best glower, to warn her. To push her away. “It’s late. I should show you to the bedroom.”
She blushes, and I realize how that came out.
“I mean, you need to get some rest. Come on. I’ll show you the guest quarters.”
Chapter Eleven
Jasmyn
As I follow this man up the curved flight of hardwood stairs, my mind and my emotions are going in a hundred different directions. I’m happy to have my memories back. I’m so glad to be free.
“Here’s where you’ll sleep,” Joaquin says, his enormous boot nudging open the door to reveal a room that looks more like something out of a palace than what I think of when someone says “safe house.” Although I don’t know why I’m surprised after sitting in that kitchen. The walls are made of thick honey-stained wood planks. A stone accent wall houses a massive fireplace. Along another wall is an oak bookshelf, built in beneath a row of high windows that overlook the secluded mountains. A matching chest is nestled against the foot of the king-sized bed, and lush, ornate carpets soften the plank floors. In the corner is a chair that triggers another memory.
My hand covers my mouth. “No way.”
“If you don’t like this room, I have others that are less rustic.”
“No, that’s not it. This…where did you get this?” I ask, going over to the chair and matching footstool in the corner. I move the blanket out of the way to reveal more of the design. All the little birds. I drew them myself.
“I don’t know. I didn’t pick any of it out,” he says.
I turn around and say, “I designed this pattern. This is one of mine.”
A wide smile spreads across his face. “No fucking way.”
“I’m serious! This is a J. Waters design. It’s one of my most popular orders. I use animals in almost all of my prints. It’s my favorite thing to do.”
“That’s a crazy coincidence. I don’t even know what to say. You’re ridiculously freaking talented,” he says.
I turn to Joaquin, unable to hide the emotions welling up. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard anyone say that to me.”
He gives me a confused look. “You mean the first time since you got your memory back? Fuck that guy for the way he treated you. On top of kidnapping and everything else, I wish I’d?—”
I cut him off with a shake of my head. “No. No one ever. Not in my whole life. I told you how I made my own way in the world. I had to build myself up from nothing. I’ve never had anyone cheer me on. Not a mother, not a father. Nobody.”
He blinks at me, trying to wrap his head around what I’ve just said. “Shit, Jasmyn. I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t. But it feels good to have a cheerleader.”
He’s closer now, so close I can reach out and touch him. And I want to. I desperately, desperately want to.
“I ain’t your fucking cheerleader. I’m your champion.”
If I felt good before, it’s nothing compared to what it feels like to know that. Joaquin doesn’t seem like a guy to throw around words like “champion.”
I reach out and rest my hand on his forearm, noticing the solid arms that have held me still, helped me stand. The strong hands that snatched me away from my captors.
I slide my hand up to his bicep, feeling the soft flannel covering him there.
“Joaquin, I?—”
