Page 34 of Splintered Security
I bark a laugh. “Good? Eh, I wouldn’t use that word. But I’m no longer panicking and running to turn my stomach out in the bathroom. I’ll feel better when I brush my teeth, though.” I look to the bathroom.
He gives me a squeeze and releases his arms.
I instantly miss his warmth but head to the bathroom and scour my mouth with the toothbrush, grab some mouthwash under the counter, and then brush a second time. When I finish, I return to find him in the same position, only with my phone in his hand.
His body is tight, his jaw is set, and his eyes squint with malice.
I stall, wondering what I should do. We end up in intimate positions time after time… me in his lap, me in his arms, me straddling his waist. To climb back into his lap is too bold, and I’ve not once initiated the closeness. But to return to the bed and sit far away feels less than… less than I don’t know what, but it feels wrong.
I walk slowly toward the bed when his eyes rise to mine. I see it—the rage glittering in his navy eyes. His relaxed posture from earlier is gone, but he extends a hand in invitation. I accept, and he pulls me into his side, folding an arm around my back. His hand rests on my hip, his middle finger drawing a gentle pattern there. His other hand white knuckles my phone.
“I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him before he touches you or Adrienne again.”
“I didn’t read them all. And I didn’t listen to the voicemails.” I snake an arm around his waist, enjoying touching him.
“Good. We’re going to get you a new phone. We talked about that, but didn’t get to it yesterday. I’ll make that happen today. I want you to keep this one active for now. I want to know what he’s thinking and saying. It’s intel, and you going dark makes him more of a wildcard. The more we can have the info and know his movements and thoughts, the better. That said, I don’t want you reading or listening to any of these. I’ve got it from here.”
“But—”
A firm squeeze on my hip has me looking up. “But nothing.” His finger continues its massage at my hip. “Let me take care of you.”
A shiver runs through me at his double entendre.
“Okay, Ren,” I lift up enough to kiss the underside of his jaw.
Ren
This morning has been shit. It’s been revealing, but shit nonetheless.
I left the house around three-thirty, with Anni sleeping fitfully in my bed. She was only there because I carried her here from the guest room. My wife sleeps in our bed, not in the guest room. I saw to that and held her for a while, silently repeating my vows to her.
I’m aware that when Heath is out of the picture permanently, she’ll have no need for this marriage. It started as a farce andcould remain that way, but since I’m a one-and-done kind of man, and she’s the only wife I’ll have, I may as well try to make it as good as I can for as long as I can. And it’s Annika, who deserves nothing less.
For her, I got out of my warm bed, extricated myself from my spooning wife, and drove to Pueblo while it was still dark. I parked my SUV and walked the street, still hidden in shadows, and surveilled the clubhouse of the Lost Mountain Rebels. I noted all of the bikes there and the handful of cars parked outside. I waited until things started coming to life in those walls far earlier than I would’ve guessed.
I marked the homes of the three main players—Giltenhouse, Smith, and Conyers—and two other lieutenants. I drove the streets between the club and there enough to be suspicious if neighbors check their camera doorbells and discuss it. But I don’t care. I need to know the routes and the ins-and-outs around these guys and how they might come and go next week.
I got home only to find the TV on, and my wife hunched over the toilet, emptying the contents of her stomach into the bowl, while wracked with sobs.
Feeling her fear and seeing her obvious worry for her own safety and that of Adrienne stokes a fire in me that ignited on Wednesday night. I must protect her. I owe it to my best friend growing up. I owe it to Anni.
She was dealt a shit hand in life. Her dad bailed when she was little. Her mom worked a lot but never seemed to get ahead. I know the life. I had the same.
And knowing what I know now about after I moved, I’mcommitted to making the rest of forever easy and light for her.
So, when she kisses my jaw, I turn my eyes to her. “Sunshine, we’ve spent too much time with you in tears. I’m not telling you how to feel, but I will find a way for you to have far more happy moments. One day, you’ll look back and realize the fear, the sadness, maybe even the loneliness of carrying everything on your shoulders—all of it is a thing of the past. I hope at the end of your life, the scales lean so heavily into joy that they’ve crashed to the ground, leaving no room for the pain to register.”
Her eyes drop to mine before flickering back to my eyes. She bites her lip and looks away, and that’s all it takes.
I turn into her, pulling her up to whisper against her lips. “I haven’t forgotten about the happy conversation, either. Want to discuss that now?”
Her eyes hold mine captive, and her lips brush mine when she replies, “Not really.”
“Not really because you’re not ready? Or not really because you’d rather have happy?”
The warmth of her cheeks flushing is a yes, but I want the words. “I need the words, baby. You have to use your voice.”
I pull her to straddle me and slide both of my hands to cup her face, keeping her close. “I promise there’s no safer place on the planet for you than right here.”
