This torture session was not my fucking idea.
Me?
I’m happy keeping her home on our couch.
Under a Dalvegan blanket.
Drinking tequila shots and eating Thai food.
Shewas the one insisting she wants to get out and do more things, that she can’t spend the rest of her life hiding out from the world simply because it won’t get any quieter nor will people’s words get any smaller. Since being forced to hole up, she’s stumbled into wanting to be out in the world where she can have more experiences.
Work through some of her sensory struggles.
The bar was a huge fucking first step.
The engagement shower the next.
The holiday split into two equal halves – between Monte’s and my dad’s – logically came after that.
Attending a hockey game – in person – seems like a steep jump to me, personally, but like I said before.
When it comes to her, I’m basically a broken bobble head, nodding and nodding and nodding because I love to see her happy.
“I’ve got plugs if you need them,” I reassure quietly near her ear after we move up in the line. “They’re big D green, too.”
Angel Cake glances mischievously up at me, “Is now the place to really talk about the big D?”
A mirth-filled eye roll is the only response she receives thanks to an unexpected flash of movement catching my attention out of the corner of my eye. Whipping my head in that direction, I’m not shocked to see anything out of the ordinary.
Because there’s no reason I should.
This is a secure facility.
Amateurs wouldn’t take the huge risk of coming after her in a crowd this size.
No.
Only pros would.
A real pro – like myself – could hit a target in a setting like this; however, they know my woman is off limits.
Even to international contacts.
That came at a steep cost to the company yet was one they couldn’t wait to pay. Angel Cake did an analysis about herself the other day while I was working out. One that basically revealed how much revenue she brings in as well as saves HE with the evaluations, the programming adjustments, and ensuring the system along with the paperwork are all going smoothly. What her skills do far outweighs whatever they’re shelling out for a few weeks while we locate and eliminate the threat.
Seventeen’sexactwords.
She texted him the numbers too.
I considered that shit work.
But still fucked her in the kitchen until I felt better about them casually chatting.
Dumping our pockets to get through security doesn’t take long, and neither does scanning our box seat tickets.
Letting my brother put us up in one of the boxes that the players share to house family members who’ve come to see them play – or females they hope to impress – was the main reason I felt okay about bringing Arley here to begin with.
Too loud, too many people, too many points to cover becomes much more manageable when you’re on the highest floor, in a private box, with armed guards pacing the perimeter.