Page 15 of The Handler
“Great. Sounds like we have time for you to show me the reservation system.”
Amy wrinkles her brow. “Sure.”
I follow her into the tiny office that must have been built as a pantry or broom closet. No windows, no doors, just a small desk with a wheeled office chair. Her laptop is angled and open. A wall calendar from the local hardware store has an image of golden-leafed trees next to a river. A single two-drawer file cabinet occupies the corner opposite the desk. There’s barely enough room for me to stand by her chair. Once again, she shortchanges herself by limiting the space she occupies in the house. It’s three stories, over three thousand square feet, not including the basement, and she’s living and working in fewer than six hundred of it.
I should have paid more attention during my previous visits, but they were selfish. She was in the program. Protected. I could come out for a few days, see her, and take her to lunch. I didn’t even stay here since she was always booked by the time I knew I was coming. I let her avoid me. Avoid us. But not anymore.
“So this is the application that runs the inn.” She double-clicks her wireless mouse and brings up a login screen.
I place my hand on the far edge of her seat back, embracing her without a touch, and lean forward. Even though we’ve been working hard, she smells sweet, like honey and lavender. I drop my nose nearly to her hair to breathe her in. She shifts in her chair, explaining how to log in. She talks fast, trying to distract me, showing me the calendar and how it’s currently blocked off for new bookings. The ledger tracks her receipts and expenses. She enters the cost of her paint supplies while I resist the urge to caress her shoulder or tug her ponytail.
The database of her past visitors distracts me from visions of how I could dominate her in this small space. She has details on their addresses, dates of their visits, and a place for notes. She updates the files for her most recent guests. I’ll be digging into this part of the application.
She spins in her chair, forcing me to take a step back. “That’s it. Pretty simple.”
“Looks like.” I grin at her slight breathlessness and pink cheeks.
She stands, expecting I’ll move, but I let her invade my personal space—the closer, the better. I reach up to touch her cheek, but she ducks under my arm, darting for the door.
I follow closely. As we cross into the kitchen, the front door creaks open. I tug Amy behind me, reaching my holster at the small of my back. “Why wasn’t that door locked?”
“Don’t growl at me. I never lock it during the day.”
I’ll address that after I neutralize the threat.
I motion for her to stay back as I race to the end of the galley kitchen that opens to the great room. Amy’s right behind me, begging for a spanking.
“Hi, honey, I’m home.”
I’d recognize that drawl anywhere. “Alex?”
I breathe and tuck my pistol away. In the entry are Stone, Alex, Eliot, Blake, and Cade, luggage piled to the side.
“Why wasn’t the door locked?” Stone levels a frosty glare in my direction as if I hadn’t had the same question.
“Because,” Amy pipes up, “this is my business. And businesses usually have their doors unlocked.”
Stone raises an eyebrow. I nod my approval and take a step back. As the de facto leader of our group, I have no problem letting Stone address this issue with my defiant “wife.” Maybe Amy will listen if two of us are telling her. Stone slowly walks right up to where she stands, her arms crossed. He seems to grow, and she shrinks.
“Business is closed.” Stone leans forward so they’re nearly nose to nose. “Lock the door.”
Alex flips the deadbolt and rests against the door, his faded-denim-clad legs crossed, ready to enjoy the show. One corner of his mouth lifts in a slight smile when he catches my eye.
“Unless and until that man,” Stone points at me, “says the threat is over, you will act like your life is in danger because it is. Otherwise, I—and these men—wouldn’t have been on a plane at o’dark thirty to protect your ass.”
Amy’s arms are at her sides, and she’s blinking fast.
Fuck. Too much.
Stone’s gonna make her cry. I drop my arm over her shoulder and pull her in close. “She understands.” I lock my gaze on her. “Don’t you?”
She nods, and I raise my eyebrows.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
Stone nods, seemingly satisfied with our exchange.
