Page 77 of Beautiful Revenge
“Yes. Not to mention, I hit my head when I fell. I was out for a second—or sixty. I didn’t ask. All I know is I woke up and the guy I was sharing a tennis lesson with was lifeless and bleeding all over the freshly painted court.”
“Let me get this straight. You were shot at but it hit some other guy instead of you?”
“Yes. Or at least I’m pretty sure that’s what happened. I did get hit in the head with a tennis ball that felt more like a rock being slung at me. And here I thought today was going to be a new start after last night.”
“What happened last night? And here I thought your life had settled down. From now on, you’re required to check in multiple times a day. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, cocktail hour ... and maybe snack time. I demand it.”
“Nothing has settled down, Chrissie. Not one thing—and I need everything to chill the fuck out.”
“I get it, Harlow. But I’m losing patience with your rambling.”
I sit here with my eyes closed and allow the worn leather from Devon’s office chair to wrap me up in a big hug. It’s soft, yet supportive, and feels like a jacket that gets better with time. It even feels like him—masculine and experienced with a firm hand.
I love it.
Maybe I’ll live in this office until I can move into Grandma’s house and hire fulltime security. Though no amount of security could have saved me from a shooter across the lake. It seems that my safety is in the hands of fate.
“I had sex last night,” I admit.
This time there’s a longer pause. From her tone, I think she forgot all about the shooting part of my story, and I can hear the smile on her face in her tone. “You did?”
“You sound so happy,” I mutter.
“I am!” she exclaims.
“Headache,” I remind her on a mutter.
“Sorry.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Please tell me you had sex with your British roommate. I need this to be true like I need you to not be shot at ever again.”
“Then you’ll be happy to know I had sex with him. Against a wall. He held me there like I was a feather he plucked from the air to make a wish on. I’ve never had sex while held against a wall, let alone given two earth-shattering orgasms during the big event. I have the rash on my back to prove it. And you know what? I don’t even mind. It reminds me how good the sex was, which I really need right now. I might beg him for a repeat so I can forget about being shot at.”
Chrissie doesn’t have the chance to cheer me on or whisper about how happy she is for me.
A deep voice clearing his throat breaks through the room alerting me I’m not alone. “Ah-hem.”
My eyes fly open as my body lurches to attention on a high-pitched yelp.
“What’s wrong?” Chrissie shrieks.
Pain shoots through my head from the quick movement only to find the door to Devon’s office standing wide open. Three men are crowded there staring at me.
One I’ve never seen before. He’s wearing an EMS T-shirt with a pair of jeans. He’s also carrying an orange duffle with the international logo for healthcare on it.
The other guy isn’t as sweaty as he was earlier, but he’s still wearing the same workout clothes. Any other human might look ridiculous in running shorts and an old ratty T-shirt with a badge on their waistband and a gun holstered to their hip, but not him. The Italian Stallion standing before mecould dress up as a cowboy clown to read me my rights, and I’d happily let him handcuff me.
That is, I would have last week.
That was before the spy who moonlights as a sex god became my bridal assistant. The man who makes me feel light as air is standing front and center biting back a smirk with the other two flanking him.
That door must be well oiled. It’s as heavy as an anvil and looks older than dirt. How did I not hear it?
“Harlow,” Chrissie calls for me. “Did you pass out?”
“I wish,” I mutter into the phone.
Devon flips his keys around his finger before sliding them into his pocket. “I brought a medic to check out your head. If you’re up to it, Dean wants to ask you some questions.”
The Italian stallion, AKA lawman Dean, gives me a low wave. “Only if you’re feeling up to it.”
