Twelve

TWELVE

M y brain ran through a hundred different scenarios at once, but really, nothing made sense that had anything to do with me. Whatever this was, it was about Ash. I just had to figure out why. Somehow, Ash was this woman's target, and because he was, so was I, since I was in his orbit. And now, so was Gemma. If anything happened to her, it would be my fault because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I had to get Gemma out of the room. That was paramount.

"Who're you?" I asked, and I could hear the ice in my tone. At the same time, I pivoted to the left, not facing her, angled away so that if she fired the gun, the bullet would have to pass through me to hit Gemma. The .38 revolver she was holding would be loud if she discharged it, and God willing, the little girl could get away. "What do you want?"

She was shaking, and that was horrible. "I just need to talk to you."

"I'll talk to you. Just let me put her down so she can run back to her mom."

Her brows furrowed. "I can't do that. I have no control over you without the child."

Which was true, but… "If you let me put her down, I will let you put the gun to my back and walk me out of here."

"This is just—this is all such a big mistake. Everything got so out of control."

"Yes," I agreed. "Of course. I want to help you, but this little girl, I can't even focus past her being accidentally shot."

She bit her bottom lip, and I read the anxiety and fear and worry all over her. In that moment, a whole new set of scenarios flooded my mind.

As close as she was standing, if she fired the gun, she couldn't miss me. On the other hand, I was too far away to rush her, or drop Gemma and lunge at her, and again, with the way she was trembling, flying bullets were a real concern.

"Please," I begged her, coaxing, taking a breath, trying not to sound frantic or angry, trying to infuse some warmth into my tone.

"If I do this, you're walking out of here with me. We're going arm in arm, and I am shoving the muzzle of this gun into your ribs."

I nodded fast. "Great. Perfect," I commended her, feeling the relief wash over me as I turned my back to her and put Gemma down.

Or tried to put her down.

She lifted her legs and held them straight out.

"Gemma, honey, I need to put you down, and then you run to your mommy."

"No," she said petulantly, as would any overly tired two-year-old. She wanted to be held. She wanted to be held because she wanted to put her head down on my shoulder. Anything else wasn't happening.

"Love," I crooned softly. "Please run to Mommy."

She shrieked her no the second time, and the woman jolted, startled.

"I think we should just take her with?—"

"Oh," I said quickly, my brain coming out of the fog of fear. "My friend, you saw him, Gemma, he has candy in his pocket. Run and get some for me."

Her smile was huge, and I sent up a silent thanks to Cora, the firstborn, my queen bee of a sister who always said that toddlers wanted to help more than anything. They wanted to do things for the people they loved. You could always get them moving if you asked for a favor.

I set her down, watching as she scampered away.

As promised, instantly there was a gun muzzle shoved into my ribs. But that was fine. It was just her and me now, and I was betting I had more training. If Preeya Shah got the drop on me, or my colleague, Ella Guzman, my chances weren't great. But honestly, this woman seemed like she played tennis and golf at a country club, and as I really looked at her, she was absolutely dripping in diamonds. And no, I shouldn't have judged solely on her brown hair with gold and red highlights, her overly tanned skin, or her French manicure, but it was hard not to.

"Let's go," she ordered me, and together, arm in arm, we began walking briskly toward the side exit.

I had no plans to walk outside with her—in the doorway was where I would take the gun or she'd get off a lucky shot. But I was betting on me, and we were almost there when?—

"Hey! Where are you going?" I heard Ash call from behind me.

"Just keep walking," she ordered me. "You don't want me to hurt him."

No, and I was terrified that she would. With Gemma, I had a primal reaction to the threat, instinctive—to protect a child, and even more so, one I adored. With Ash, the fear was of losing him, as well as the life I was preparing to have. We had made plans, and I was anxious to start. The idea that she could rip him from my life by pulling the trigger was filling my stomach with ice.

"Hurry," she hissed.

"Coop?" he called again.

"I'll be right back," I assured him cheerfully.

"Will you?" he asked, and I heard the trepidation in his tone.

"Everything is gonna be?—"

"Hey!" he roared, and I realized he must have run up on us because one moment he was farther away, and the next he was right there, only a step behind.

Startled, she whirled around to face the threat. But before she could fire, before I could try and tackle her or warn him, she got hit in the face with a small red foam bat. It was a bit longer than a ruler, and wider, but not by much. I had a fairly good idea where it came from, and thought suddenly how lucky it was that my friends had brought their sherpa bags full of toys to Bitsy's wedding.

For her part, the woman had been on her feet one moment, and the very next she was on the ground and I had the wrist of her gun hand pinned to the carpet under the toe of my sneaker.

"Oh yeah!" Ash whooped. "We make a great team."

"Have you lost your mind?" I snarled at him, leaning down to wrench the gun from her hand and perform a clearance check. "This is fully loaded!"

"You're hurting me," the woman cried.

"Don't say a word," I warned her, feeling, as I started to shake, the emotion welling up in the back of my throat. "Except to answer who the hell you are!"

"Oh, I know who she is," Ash told me, grabbing hold of my bicep and easing me toward him slowly, until I was close enough so he could wrap me in his arms.

"What?" I asked, shivering suddenly, soaking up the heat rolling off him as he clutched me tight.

"She's moving!" Ainsley yelled from across the room. "Use the bat!"

"Hit her again!" Jeff called over.

I turned my head in time to see her stagger to her feet and begin toward the exit, only to see that door open and a woman in a black trench coat, followed by two men dressed in the same outerwear, leading another man in cuffs, coming our way. From the other side of the room, where Ainsley and Jeff were, four other men were crossing the space to us.

"Carrie Voss," the woman yelled as all four FBI agents—that was all they could be with how they were dressed and the similar haircuts—drew their guns. "Get on your knees with your fingers laced over your head!"

I turned to look at Ash.

"You left your phone next to me when you left to walk Gemma around."

"I did?"

His smile was beautiful and made his eyes sparkle. "You did. And your boss called and told me to expect that woman right there, Supervisory Special Agent Deidre Merriweather out of the San Francisco office."

"Why?"

"Her team has been working with the SFPD on the Voss investigation, and once I cleared up the whole thing about me not meeting with Voss, but with Kit instead, they've been able to quickly figure out what happened."

"What did happen?"

"Carrie and Voss have been on the run this whole time."

"Together?"

"Yes."

"So all of that about her disappearing, everything—that was all just a distraction?" I asked, realizing I was shaking.

"That's right," Ash said gently, putting his hand on my face, and only then did I realize how cold I was. "We need to get you upstairs where it's quiet."

"No, I'm…fine."

"You're not. You were terrified for Gemma, and then when I called for you, that probably scared the hell out of you as well."

"She could have killed Gemma, or you, and I…I haven't been in my bodyguard headspace, so I wasn't expecting a gun or?—"

He grabbed me then and hugged me tight, and finally—finally—I could breathe. And with the calm his embrace brought, my brain came back online.

"So Voss and Carrie, they ran away together before he was supposed to meet with the SEC. She was with him the whole time. Everything was staged."

"That's correct," Deidre Merriweather praised me, stepping in close and extending her hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Davis."

Ash kept his arm around my shoulders as I took her hand. "And you, SSA Merriweather."

"I've been coordinating with your boss on this," she said, putting her hands in the pockets of her trench coat. "Once he alerted us to the fact that Mr. Lennox had met with his friend, the actor Kit Riggs, and not Elliot Voss, we were able to start piecing together the rest of the story with the evidence and build a new and different timeline."

"So everyone has been chasing a man who didn't hurt his wife but instead who has been on the run with her for the last two weeks?"

"That's correct."

"Did the two of them kill Kit Riggs?"

"They did. Yes."

"Why?"

"We're fairly certain Mr. Riggs was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's a fairly convoluted story, but I promise you, as soon as we have all the puzzle pieces, you will too."

"There were three men, Riggs and Mr. Abernathy and Mr. Ing," I reminded her. "Are they all dead?"

"We believe so, but now that we have both Mr. and Mrs. Voss in custody, we'll know for certain fairly soon."

"And you'll add to Carrie Voss's charges her holding a gun on me and Gemma?"

"Of course," she said flatly. "I'll have you write up your statement today and email that to me."

Carrie Voss had threatened me with a gun while I was holding Gemma. Then she'd threatened to hurt Ash if I didn't comply. Adding that to whatever else she'd done, whatever part she played in the deaths of the others, would put her in prison for a very long time, and that didn't upset me in the least. I needed her to pay for threatening people I loved.

"Also, so you know, Mr. Rhodes was extricated from Moldova last night. I spoke to a Captain Hunt, who said everything went according to plan."

"That's a good day," I told her. "Getting everyone at once. You don't always get days that good."

"No, you don't," she agreed, and gave me a trace of a smile before taking a quick breath. "And now we're going to leave and take the Vosses with us, but I want to apologize for arriving late here today. I'm known for being on site early. We should have been here before Carrie Voss threatened you with a gun." She pulled a business card out of her coat pocket and handed it to me. "Please use the email there to send me your statement, and if I can be of service in the future, to you or the Cushing family, don't hesitate to call me."

"Thank you," I said as we shook again.

They were gone quickly, and I knew from being a cop that the FBI only operated one way. I was betting they hadn't even alerted the Maine State Police to their visit to Castine.

Once the door closed behind the Feds, I lunged at Ash and hugged him tight.

"I was so scared," I told him. "I can't lose you."

"I feel the same," he murmured and kissed me.

"Cooper!"

We parted, chuckling, and there was Gemma running as fast as her little legs would carry her. When she reached me, just ahead of her parents, Jeff carrying Taylor and Ainsley running with her boys, I scooped her up and hugged her so tight, she squeaked.

"Your boss called before Gemma got back," Ash told me, "but we wouldn't have known anything was amiss if Gemma hadn't reported that the mean lady had a no-no toy."

I glanced at Ainsley, who said, "My kids aren't allowed to play with guns, and when we heard the lady had one, we all came right away."

I grinned at her. "With a red foam bat."

"I gave him my bat," Timothy told me. "It's small but hits good."

"It certainly does," Ash agreed.

Back in our room, after saying good night to the Cushing family, Ainsley having cried all over me for taking such good care of Gemma, I got out my laptop and wrote up my accounting of what happened to me and sent that off to SSA Merriweather. I had Ash read it first.

"That is very thorough, sir," he said, smiling at me. "And not at all an interesting read. There's no embellishment or whimsy in there at all. It's just the facts."

"Good," I told him, scowling. "That's what it's supposed to be."

"You gave that no artistic flourish. Like zero. You have no future as a novelist."

"Oh that's terrible. How will I live with myself."

"Funny."

After I kissed him, the two of us got comfortable on the sectional and called my boss.

Ash was surprised when he popped onto the screen, and I understood why. If someone had never met Jared Colter in person, from reading only his very sparse biography on the Torus website, they'd think he was either going to be a supersleek international man-of-mystery spy type, very much James Bond, or a supersoldier without a shred of humor or warmth, still wearing fatigues despite being retired. The fact was, he was both those things and many others, but at the moment, we were catching him at home, where he was on his couch, drinking bourbon. He was flanked by a chihuahua and a pittie, both fast asleep.

"Oh, that's a man after my own heart right there," Ash said, motioning to the pittie.

"Good evening, sir," I greeted him.

"Helluva time you're having out there in Maine, Davis," he said with an evil cackle. "I apologize for jinxing you."

"Little late for that, sir."

His smile was a good one, and the laugh lines around his eyes crinkled. "It all turned out all right, though, wouldn't you say?"

Of course it had. "Yes, sir."

"Okay," he said with a sigh. "Let me catch you up on what SSA Merriweather and her team have found out so far from the couple."

As a cop, I'd repeatedly learned the lesson that the truth was, in fact, stranger than fiction. Things I had sworn were made up turned out to be true. This was what happened with Elliot and Carrie Voss.

"Turns out, Carrie Voss had been in contact only with Bob Abernathy. Riggs had decided his writers should reach out to her, not to Voss, since she wasn't considered a fugitive, yet knew everything that had happened."

Ash and I remained silent, just listening to the tale unfold.

"So Abernathy contacted Carrie, and she set a date and time to meet and talk. She had him take Interstate 5 instead of the much more scenic Pacific Coast Highway because, as she said, there were far less people on that road. She and Voss arrived at the meeting place, a pay-by-the-hour motel outside Kettleman, and they were only expecting Bob, not his writing partner, Ing, and especially not an actor she knew, Kit Riggs."

"What was their plan?"

"The first part was to blow up her husband's car and make it look like he died in an accident, and the second part was to kill Abernathy and have him be the man who burned to death in the car."

It took me several moments to parse that. I was stunned.

Ash was stunned too. And I knew that because when I turned to look at him, his mouth was hanging open.

Jared grimaced. "Yeah. I know. Very cold-blooded to plan to kill a man who was simply coming to speak to her. But in their minds, they needed a body to burn up in the car and make everyone think Voss was dead. That would solve all their problems. Carrie would be gone, assumed to be killed by her husband, and Voss would be dead, having taken what he did to her to his grave."

"So really, the only way their escape happens is for everyone to think they're both dead."

"That's correct," my boss agreed. "They needed a body for their plan to work, and Bob Abernathy made a convenient target."

"He did initially, but then everything went to hell because he didn't show up alone."

"Yep."

"So what happened?" I just wanted to get to the end.

"Apparently, when the three men went in, they were all faced with Carrie, and when the door was closed behind them, only then did they see Voss."

"They must have been surprised," I said sadly.

"They were, and when Ing turned immediately for the door, Voss shot and killed him."

"Jesus," Ash whispered.

"And then Abernathy tried to run as well, and Voss killed him. But Riggs tackled Voss, knocked his gun away, and in the struggle, lost his car keys. Carrie got to the gun before Riggs could, and shot at him but missed. He then grabbed the set of car keys on the table, and those turned out to be, as we know, for Voss's Mercedes. Carrie fired at Riggs several times, she said, missing him, and then Riggs was in the car, driving away."

"No one heard all the shooting?" I asked.

"It's a very empty motel on the side of the highway in the middle of nowhere, and the clerk could have been on break, we don't know. What we do know is no one heard a thing."

"That's crazy," Ash murmured.

"It's why they picked that motel in the first place. It was out of the way. They planned to kill Bob Abernathy there and were fairly confident they wouldn't be discovered."

"Which they weren't."

"Exactly."

"Sorry," I said with an exhale. "Go on."

"Voss and Carrie then raced after Riggs in his rental car, a big SUV, caught up to him, and ended up running him off the road, the car flipping over several times before it came to a stop. When they went to check on him, they found Riggs dead. He wasn't belted in, and the rolling was not survivable."

"At least he didn't suffer," Ash whispered. "I hope he wasn't scared, just gone."

"I suspect it was fast," my boss assured him. "I've seen those kinds of crashes."

Ash nodded.

"Since Riggs was dead, and in the car already, it only made sense to use his body. They had already doused the car in gasoline earlier in the day, the carpet, the seats, everything, and there were several full gallons in the trunk. All they needed was an explosion, which they got from throwing a lighter into the back of the car."

"So it caught fire, then exploded."

"That's right."

"It must have burned for quite a while."

"It did."

"At least we know how it happened," I muttered.

"It's good to know Riggs didn't suffer, that he was dead before the car burned. And that was a helluva ballsy thing he was trying to do."

"Yes, it was," Ash agreed, then took a breath. "If this were a movie, he would have made it."

"Which is why we love them," I said, taking hold of his hand. "Because we can change the ending and make it however we want."

He squeezed back tight.

"Okay, so what happened to the bodies of Abernathy and Ing?"

"They were buried in the bush behind the motel in shallow graves."

"And how did Mr. and Mrs. Voss leave the crime scene?"

"In Riggs's car that they drove back to San Francisco and abandoned in the Tenderloin. They then paid cash at a car lot and left the state."

"That's insane, and it's funny, but Mrs. Voss said to me earlier when she was holding a gun on me, that all of it was a big mistake. She said everything got out of control."

"And it did, but she's half responsible for all of it with her husband. They planned to kill Bob Abernathy and ended up killing three men instead."

"But why did they come after me?" I asked my boss.

Ash gasped, and when I turned to look at him, he was pale.

"Honey?" I asked gently.

"How could I forget about you?" Ash asked, and a strangled sob escaped him, and he put his face in his hands.

It was a lot. First, he heard what happened to his friend, and in the middle of that, for a moment, he'd forgotten that all of it wasn't over. That there was more to tell.

"Listen," I said, taking gentle hold of his wrists. "You didn't forget about me, but it's like the story caught up to where we came in, so we both thought it was over."

He was trembling, and I could hear the muffled sobs.

"Please stop," I whispered, leaning my forehead on the back of his hands. "You know I'm okay. If you're crying for Kit, then yes, good. Do that. But if you're crying over me—don't. I know what I mean to you."

Dropping his hands, I saw the tears, how red his eyes were, and heard the continual catch of breath.

I lifted my arms for him. "C'mere."

He lunged at me, and I wrapped him up tight, rocking him, kissing his cheek, and then there was the graze of his stubble over mine before I sighed deeply.

"I know you kind of like me," I soothed him. "Just like I kind of like you back."

He whimpered, and it sounded like surrender, which was good. He needed to let go of his worry and trust that I knew him.

"Okay?"

Soft grunt of agreement, but he didn't let me go.

Jared Colter was a good man, everyone knew that, and when I checked the screen, I could see that I now had a view of his massive kitchen. He was pouring tea, his back to us, and I appreciated that. He was letting Ash grieve, giving us time, not talking over Ash's tears.

Once Ash leaned out of my arms, wiping quickly at his eyes, he thanked my boss.

"Of course."

"But why were the Vosses after me?" I asked him.

"Well, it turns out that Elliot Voss placed ten million dollars into the Vault."

"What does that––"

"Into what vault, sir?" Ash asked. "And what does that have to do with Cooper?"

Somewhere in the background, there was a snicker of laughter that caused my boss to glare in that person's direction. That person being the love of his life.

"You really do suck at explaining things," Owen stated, cackling that time before he was in the frame too, smiling crazily at us. He leaned in, and a moment later the screen was slid sideways, giving us a fantastic view of their Subzero refrigerator.

"This is not appropriate behavior to exhibit in front of a client," my boss grumbled, but there was no heat in the statement.

"Who cares? We're not billing Mr. Lennox anyway. He's no longer a client. He and Cooper fell in love," Owen said, laughing. "We don't bill clients who fall in love with our fixers. That's madness."

"We most certainly—move your hand!" Jared scolded Owen, and Ash laughed, looking better than he had a few minutes ago.

"I'll call you right—Owen!"

"Thanks, boss," I said, smiling as I closed the laptop.

"I love that Owen apparently can't keep from attacking your boss."

"We're actually very professional," I assured Ash. "My boss is not running a matchmaking service, no matter what anyone tells you."

Ash squinted at me. "I'm sorry? Not running a—exactly how many fixers has your boss lost to love?"

I had to think a moment to give him a ballpark number.

"That many?"

"I'm trying to?—"

"You said your friend Shaw is getting married soon."

"Yeah, he?—"

"Is he marrying a client?"

"Former client."

"I see. And was Locryn Nick Madison's fixer?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not at liberty to?—"

"This is all very interesting."

"Sometimes when someone comes in and fixes your life, you develop feelings for them, and if those feelings are reciprocated, things happen."

"And do you have feelings for me?"

"Shut up," I said, glaring at him.

"Do you love me?"

"It's far too early to tell," I said, tasting the lie on my lips. Because yes, of course I was crazy about him, but huge everything words like love needed to be discussed long before being blurted out.

"Is it?"

"I—"

"Come on," he rumbled, voice all low and sexy, warm hand on my cheek as he eased me close, his lips hovering over mine. "I know it's fast, but who cares. You're a brave man."

"I want you to be with me and no one else," I whispered, meeting his gaze. "You'll have to make do with that until our next meeting."

"Our next meeting," he repeated, then kissed me.

I'd never had a man so interested in me, so clearly enchanted, enthralled, or smitten. I wasn't stupid. I knew it was a blessing. "Stay with me," I said under my breath.

"You want me?"

"More than anything."

He exhaled slowly, as though he'd been worried. Like he'd been holding his breath. "Okay. Staying."

It was good to have things settled.

Much later, Ash was standing on the patio, staring out at the bay, and I was on my laptop, typing up my notes on the job-not-job. Jared Colter always wanted a thorough accounting for the record.

"Explain the part about the vault again," Ash said, coming inside, walking over to the bed, still wrapped in the blanket he'd taken out there with him.

"The Vault—uppercase—holds secrets, items, even people that my boss's friend, Darius Hawthorne, protects. I suspect it's many different places, rather than one physical location. It probably functions like witness protection for people, while for items, there are actual vaults all over the world, warehouses, and for funds, banks across the globe. No one can hurt Darius because he and his people are the only ones who literally know where the bodies, as well as treasure, are buried."

"Why couldn't your boss have just explained it like that? I was so lost."

I had been too, and I actually knew what he was talking about.

Earlier, my boss had ended our call because, I was guessing, having his fiancé attack him had completely wrecked his concentration. He called back an hour later and had me put him on speaker. He did not want to be on a video call.

"It's because he's all sweaty and covered in semen now," Ash had whispered in my ear.

I had shaken my head at him. I did not want to have an image of my boss having sex. It was like thinking about my parents. Both images equally traumatizing.

"Hey," Ash said, returning me to the present. "How can there be such a thing as the Vault when no one's ever heard of it?"

"I think you have to be a criminal, or someone both rich and powerful, or be a person privy to the secrets of those I just mentioned."

"All right, that makes sense… Which category do you think your boss's friend Darius falls into?"

"I have no idea, but if I had to guess, I'd say the latter. But I suspect that Jared Colter has a whole mix of interesting people in his life."

Ash nodded.

"Now in this case, Mr. Voss placed ten million dollars with the Vault because he needed to put it somewhere that neither the SEC or the FBI or anyone else could gain access to it."

"Yeah, I got why he gave it to the Vault for safekeeping. It's Mrs. Voss, or technically, both of them since he was waiting in the car, trying to kidnap you that I didn't understand."

"What I don't get is why he didn't come in. I mean, he's the one who killed the writers, he's clearly better with a gun. That doesn't make sense to me."

"I'm sure he thought he was the more easily recognizable of the two, and he was right. You had no idea who she was, but his face was fresh in your mind."

That was true.

"Go on with why they were after you."

"The way the Vault works, whatever you put in, once it's in, it's at the discretion of the Vault when it's returned to you."

"See, right there. That's where your boss lost me."

"There are extenuating circumstances where the Vault is concerned."

"Like?"

"Okay, say you put the deed to your house in there for safekeeping, but a bad guy kidnaps your husband and says he'll blow his brains out if you don't hand it over."

"This is a terrible example."

I scowled at him. "Focus."

"Fine."

"Okay, so when you ask the Vault for the deed back, they want to know why, and they have people to check in on you and see if you're being leveraged in some way."

"Oh, I see. So even though you put whatever into the Vault, in this case millions of dollars, it's not a sure thing that you'll get it back out."

"No. You will absolutely get it back, it's yours, but the when is the issue. The Vault isn't going to send someone with a briefcase full of money to some scary-ass rendezvous point where both you and the courier will be murdered. They're going to wire it somewhere, but everyone in the scenario, both you and them, need to be safe."

"So since Voss and his wife are both on the run, whoever at the Vault said nope, they're much more likely to lose their money in that situation."

"Correct. The Vault said you're not getting the money at this time. You can send it to someone else, but not you, since you're a wanted fugitive."

"I don't think they should get a say."

"But think how safe most people feel. Say you're a cartel boss and you want the money to go to your family, but you're killed. You'll die knowing that they will be provided for."

"Are we on the side of cartel bosses?"

"They have families too," I pointed out.

"Okay, so whatever you put in is safe with the Vault, but apparently the Vosses had no one like siblings or parents or best friends that they trusted enough to have the money wired to."

"Which is kinda sad if you think about it, but there's also the question of everyone thinking that Voss killed Carrie, and they'd have to blow their cover and have whoever realize they're on the run. At which point, how safe is it to get involved with all that?"

"Right. Okay. I get it. But I still don't understand why the Vosses came after you?"

"Originally, on the secure site, Voss got a message in his account that his money had been accepted into the Vault, and if he had any questions or concerns, he should speak to Conrad Harris, and he was given an email."

"Which he used to ask for his funds back."

"Yes."

"And was told no."

"Correct."

"Conrad Harris is the man in charge."

"To everyone else, yes. You know that he's actually Darius Hawthorne, because my boss told you in confidence, but to users of the Vault, it's just a name."

"Okay."

"But if you hunt on the dark web, which Voss uses because he's shady as shit, him and his boss, Rhodes, he found that Conrad Harris links to Terrence Moss and Darius Hawthorne."

"Right."

"And if you search up associates of Darius Hawthorne, among many is Jared Colter, owner of Torus Intercession, based out of Chicago, and Torus International, headquartered in Paris."

"Yeah, but I still don't––"

"Torus Intercession is trending on the internet at the moment because everyone is reporting on me because I'm here with you."

"So this is all my fault."

I squinted at him. "Dial back the guilt, willya?"

"No, I––"

"You're a celebrity. People want to know what's going on with you, especially when a new guy suddenly pops up and it looks pretty hot and heavy in pictures."

"It is hot and heavy," he snapped at me.

"Don't sound so happy about it," I grumbled.

"That is not—could you just finish, please?"

"So, just like everyone else, it's easy to go to the Torus website and find Jared Colter, and easier still to look up his employees. Even better, there's a picture of me, and voilà, there I am, the new man in Ashford Lennox's life."

"I hate this."

"You have no privacy as a public figure. You know that."

"I do, but it's never almost gotten someone I love killed before."

I let the love part go. This was not the time to point out that he'd just used a huge word like it was normal. "No one was almost anything, but once they found me, all they had to do was look you up, and there you are in Maine, attending a wedding at the Castine Harbor Inn."

"The internet will be the death of us all," Ash stated.

I scoffed. "That's dramatic."

His scowl was instant. "It's true."

"When the machines rise, you mean?" I asked innocently.

Pulling the throw pillow from behind my back, he whacked me in the face with it until I curled up into a ball laughing.

"You understand that she could have shot you," he yelled at me.

"She needed me," I told him, uncurling and looking up at him. "Her plan was to have me call Jared and then have Jared call Darius. As plans go, not horrible, especially with a ten-million-dollar payday at stake."

He fell down onto the bed, facing me, and pushed my hair out of my face. "I was terrified that she was going to kill you."

"You hit her in the face with a foam bat," I reminded him, grinning. "You were great under pressure."

He stared at me, saying nothing.

"Hello?"

"I've decided something."

"And what is that?"

"I don't want to stay here for the wedding. I want to leave in the morning and?—"

"I think you'll regret it if?—"

"No, I won't," he replied, sliding his arm around my waist and easing me closer to him. "Meeting you changed everything, and really, I want to be alone with you for the few days I have left until I have to resume my shooting schedule."

"I don't want you to regret bailing on the wedding."

"It's not like I'm giving the bride away, and as I'm paying for everything, I feel like that's enough, you know? I want to go home, and I want to take you with me."

"You want to take me home to your big house in Malibu?"

"Yes. That's what I want. You're going to love it there, and when I'm done filming, I'll come see your house in Highland Park and meet all your people, all right? I really do want to do that, meet your family, your friends, but right now… I want to be alone with you. I need that time, just the two of us."

I did too. "That sounds perfect."

His smile was instant. "You're saying yes?"

Grinning back, I nodded. "I'm saying yes. But you're the one who has to tell Gemma we're leaving."

"Wait now," he said, looking concerned.

I was laughing softly as I snuggled in against him, loving the closeness, loving even more when he wrapped me in his arms. The man was all over me all the time, and I never realized how much I wanted that. He was made for me. The first time I took his hand and he squeezed back, things had changed for me. I was on a whole new path, and he was there with me. Wherever we were going, it would be together.

"You know there are perks to falling in love with a movie star."

I groaned and rolled over, facing away from him.

"You'll get to go to all the awards shows with me and meet all the big stars." He spooned me, pressed up tight, rubbing his face into my hair. "You don't have to wait for tables at restaurants, and they always bring your car up first at valet."

"Stop," I said, chuckling.

"There are lots of things, but do you know what the best one is?"

"I do actually."

"You do?" He sounded surprised.

"Yeah," I said softly. "I get to be the keeper of his wonderful, loving heart."

After a moment, he slipped his arm across my chest and snuggled in just a bit tighter. "You certainly are," he said gruffly, clearly touched. "I'm all yours, and I'm ready for our next adventure."

And so was I.