Page 35 of Pulse
“You aren’t prepared for what I was going to say.”
The air between us grows thicker.Hotter. Between her doe eyes and my aching need to protect her, there are too many layers of added danger to this already precarious situation.
“Ford needs to know,” I say, circling us back to solid ground. “No person in this country is more equipped or capable of handling this situation.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Would this be your advice if I were your mother?”
I blink.
“That’s what people say to doctors to get them to tell them the truth,” she says. “They ask if the patient was their mother and if they’d recommend the treatment. So that’s what I’m asking you. If I were your mother, would this be your advice?”
I resist the urge to touch the side of her face. Instead, I bite back a confession on the tip of my tongue and answer her question. “Yes.”
Her shoulders straighten, and she lifts her chin. She inhales a shaky breath. “Okay.”
My knuckles rap against Ford’s door. Lincoln opens it almost immediately.
Dahlia’s eyes snap to mine.
“Give us one second, Lincoln, please,” I say.
He looks between us and then nods. The door shuts softly.
“Hey,” I say, loud enough for only Dahlia to hear. I want her to be empowered—not to feel like her life is out of her control. The last thing she needs is to walk into a room with three men and feel like she has no say in what happens to her. “You weren’t expecting Lincoln. I wasn’t either. He’s like a bad penny that keeps turning up.”
A faint smile touches her lips.
“If you aren’t comfortable discussing this in front of Lincoln, we’ll wait until he leaves,” I say. “This is your decision. You’re in the driver’s seat. I’m more than willing to take the steering wheel, but just tell me what you want.”
She hiccups a breath and holds it. “I don’t know what I want. I’m scared, Troy.”
My hands clench at my sides to keep from pulling her to me. As hard as that is, I know it’s about to get harder because I have no other choice. “Do you trust me?”
“I trust you with my life, and as ironic as it is, that’s what we’re dealing with here.”
“Now isn’t the time for jokes.”
She grins a wobbly smile. “I was going to tell you to let me live my life, but that probably won’t go over well either, huh?”
I narrow my eyes.
“Sorry,” she says, attempting to wipe her features clean. “It’s either make a joke or cry hysterically, and I’m an ugly crier. I also think I’m in shock right now.”
I open the door and guide her in before me. It snaps closed behind us.
Ford’s hands are folded on his desk, and he has a curious look on his face. Lincoln leans against a drawing table near thewindow, holding a cup of coffee. Surprisingly, there’s no humor anywhere to be found.
“We have a situation,” I say.
“What’s going on?”
Dahlia looks up at me and shakes her head, silently requesting I speak for her.
“Last night, Dahlia discovered someone has been breaking into her house when she’s not home,” I say, the words falling flat.
