Page 69 of The Bombshell and the Bodyguard
He kept his eyes closed as he answered, drawing lazy circles on my back with his fingers.
“In the Navy. My buddy Gray did them. He’s a hell of an artist—designed all our tattoos— our whole team got them.”
“What does the owl on your back mean?”
“Owls symbolize wisdom and endurance,” he said. “And some cultures also believe owls are harbingers of death. Seemed appropriate.”
“And this?” I caressed the skull design that covered his entire right shoulder and upper arm.
He chuckled. “Well, obviously skulls symbolize death. Generally people get skull tattoos to show they have no fear of death.”
“Or snakes apparently. “ I wrinkled my nose. “Your skull iseatingone.”
He laughed again. “Yeah, well, the rattlesnake stands for hidden evil and danger. Rooting that out and crushing it is worth risking death.”
I sighed against his pec muscle. “I’m glad you’re not putting your life on the line everyday anymore. I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you.”
His hand on my back moved in a soothing rub and then a little pat. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. And nothing’s going to happen to you, either. Not while I’m around.”
After a while, Wilder fell asleep, but I tried my best not to. I lay there soaking in the sight and smell and feel of him, trying to memorize every detail of this night and praying there’d be countless more like it.
At some point I must have dozed off because I was awakened by the bleating of the satphone.
The foreign sound caused my heart to leap into my throat and Wilder to wake instantly from a dead sleep.
One of his arms wrapped around me. The other shot out and brought the wretched device to his ear.
“Lowe here. What’s going on?”
I curled against Wilder’s side, nuzzling into his warm skin while inside I made a silent plea.
Not yet. Please not yet.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jade’s List
Jessica
“That’s great news.” Wilder had been scribbling furiously on a notepad since about thirty seconds after picking up the call.
“They’re sure it’s the right guy?” he asked. “Okay, yeah. Sounds good. Yeah, what a relief.”
With every exclamation from his mouth, my heart sank farther. It was obvious the police had found my stalker.
Which meant we’d be leaving the island. It looked like I’d make it home in time to perform at Coachella after all. And make my scheduled appearance on the Late Show. And at the concert in Venice as well.
All of that was good news, or it should have been. In spite of all my bellyaching about being “bored” and “stuck” on the island,” the events of the past two days had me wishing Wilder and I could stay here forever.
Especially as skittish as he obviously was about our new relationship. I took heart in the fact that at least IknewI was no longer alone in this thing—hedidwant me the way I wanted him.
At least Ihopedhe was through holding me at arm’s length and keeping things “professional.” I never wanted to go back to the way things used to be. I wanted to be with him all the time and let the whole world know he was mine.
Would it bother my fans if every song I wrote from here on out was called, “Wilder?”
Ending the call, he smiled at me. “Ready to go home?”
“Yes,” I lied. “So where did they find him? Who is it?”
