Page 24 of Call Sign: King
This time it was her palm that lifted to his cheek, pulling him until they were staring back into each other’s eyes.
“Just tell me.”
Christ, she knew him so well.
Glancing around the room, Ryder saw everyone was waiting to hear what he had to say.
“I brought a new chip with me,” he finally answered. Her confusion reminded him he was talking to a civilian, not an operative. “A GPS enabled chip,” he clarified.
“But I’m already wearing the earrings, and I faithfully pin the lapel tracker to my panties every morning like you taught me,” Khloe reasoned.
“And you need to keep doing all that,” Ryder replied before adding, “But we both know those come off when you have to change clothes while on set. Until this all blows over, I want something a bit more permanent.”
“You want to chip me like a dog?”
He didn’t like the edge he heard in her voice.
“No, Khloe. You’re a thousand times more important to me than a fucking dog, and since I love dogs, that should tell you something.”
His words seemed to soothe her slightly.
“Don’t you think you’re going a little overboard?” she asked.
“Considering my first inclination is to whisk you off to a deserted island and never return to civilization again — no, I don’t think so.”
Her smile kept his own aggravation at their situation at bay.
“Maybe after we wrap in a few weeks, we can get away.”
“Baby, after you wrap in a few weeks, you’ll be starting your next movie… and then the next. There will be more premiers and award ceremonies. There is no escaping the public. Not for Khloe Monroe.”
“Fine. Then I’ll retire,” she threw back at him.
It was an offer she’d made dozens of times. An offer he’d always rejected. He found it tempting him more than normal tonight, yet he couldn’t delude himself.
“The horse is out of the barn, baby. Retiring tomorrow won’t do anything for keeping you safe. We need to work with the cards we’ve been dealt.”
“What if I don’t want you to put a tracker inside me?” she asked with an edge of defiance.
Ryder looked into her eyes, trying to understand if she was truly upset by the idea or not. He was reminded of her acting skills because even knowing her intimately she didn’t let him see her answer clearly.
“Then you’ll have to use your safe word. You know that’s the only thing that will stop me from following my instincts where you’re concerned.”
“Yeah, but that’s just in the bedroom.”
“No, baby. Your safe word is sacrosanct. I’ll always respect it — in or out of the bedroom.”
“That’s not true,” she accused.
“The hell it’s not,” he defended, insulted that she’d accuse him of not recognizing her safe word.
“You make me eat when I don’t want to all the time.”
Fuck. She’s right.
“You don’t say your safe word,” he retorted.
“Maybe not anymore, but in the beginning I sure as hell did.”
