20. Twenty

Sunlight glittered on the surface of the lake. Wind whispered through the tree branches at our back and birds called to each other from a distance. Standing on the shore, I cast my line into the water and let out a contented sigh. This was heaven.

Dante let out a shriek, followed by a string of curses.

Almost heaven.

I turned my head and frowned at the sight of him stomping around in the shallow water, trying to shake mud from his designer boots. "Dante, stop. You're scaring the fish."

"The fish ?" he said, indignant. "Something in there tried to bite me!"

"They're just curious."

"They're about to be my dinner." He shook his fist at the water.

Not if you don't get out of the bloody water , I thought and got up from my spot to move down the bank a little. Not too far. I still had to stay close to Dante, no matter how loud he was being, in case something happened. I didn't think Oscar would be so bold as to show up at the cabin while I was right there, but I'd been wrong about him before .

Dante finally stomped back to shore and plopped down to untangle the line. I'd told him a dozen times already not to let it get tangled, but he didn't listen. My little rockstar was not an outdoorsman by any means.

I stopped. My rockstar? Since when did I think things like that, especially about Dante? I glanced over at where he sat, picking apart the tangled line. My rockstar… Mine . Warmth spread through me at the words. I wanted him to be mine, but this arrangement was only temporary. I had to remember that.

Maybe it was a mistake, getting involved with Dante, but I was glad I had, even if this had to end. I'd never known anyone like him. He wasn't shy about what he wanted and wasn't afraid to pursue it with everything he had. Dante wasn't someone who would ever settle for a half-baked effort. He'd either be the best at everything he attempted or he wouldn't do it at all. There was a certain beauty to the passionate way he threw himself at tasks, trying to conquer each one as if it were a contest. It made me want to see him succeed, even if the path there got a little muddled.

He saw his addiction as a weakness, and it was, but what he didn't see was how strong it made him to fight as hard as he did to find himself. Dante deserved the world, and I wanted to be the one to give it to him.

But our lives outside of the cabin were too different. I couldn't fathom a world in which I gave up working for Boone to be with him. I loved my job. It gave me purpose, which I badly needed when the PTSD symptoms were at their worst. The work gave me something constant to do, a distraction when nothing else worked. I couldn't walk away from that, even to be with Dante. If I left being a mercenary and bodyguard behind, I wouldn't be me anymore, and neither of us deserved that .

That was also true of Dante's passion for music. He thrived on the attention of his fans. Whenever he spoke of tours and concerts, it was with unmatched, excited energy. I couldn't ask him to give that up, certainly not for me.

We could have a long-distance relationship, I supposed, but that could only last so long. Without him next to me, it wouldn't be the same.

That left us at an impasse. If nothing changed, then there was no way we could be together long term. I had to treat this for what it was: a hot but temporary tryst with a famous rockstar.

My heart sank. There were probably millions of people who'd die to be in my position, but I wanted more than a tryst . I wanted a real relationship with someone. No, not just someone. With Dante .

Dante let out another loud shriek, and I turned my head again, expecting to find him tangled in the fishing line. Instead, he was jumping up and down and pointing at the water. I'd tuned out long enough that he'd gotten his line untangled and cast it back in the water, and now the little yellow bobber was being pulled beneath the surface.

"Church, look! I caught one! What do I do?"

I chuckled. "Reel it in before it gets away."

He let out a surprised gasp as the fishing rod jerked forward and almost flew out of his hands. Dante dug his feet into the mud at the edge of the lake as if he were in for the fight of his life against what was probably only a little blue gill. I abandoned my rod and jogged over to help him.

I grinned as the fish came free of the water. It hung on the hook, tail flapping, scales gleaming in the mid-day sun. "Congratulations, Dante. You've caught the first fish of the day. "

I patted his back and looked at Dante, expecting a big, proud smile. Instead, his lips were turned down in a deep frown, his forehead wrinkled as he watched the little fish struggling on the hook.

"What's the matter, Dante?"

He looked up at me, his eyes watery. "He looks like he's in pain."

I winced and looked back at the fish squirming on the hook. Of course the bloody fish was in pain. There was a sharp hook through its mouth and we'd just tricked him into thinking he was getting a fine meal. All the pride and joy I'd been holding onto at Dante getting his first catch fizzled, leaving behind only guilt.

Christ, why did Dante have to be so bloody soft hearted? But that was part of his charm. He was beautifully innocent in many ways, and it made me want to scoop him up and shield him from all the ugliness of the world.

Even the bleeding fish on the line dangling between us.

"Come on then. Let's set him loose back in the pond." I unhooked the fish as gently as I could and he went flopping back into the water to swim away. He'd probably be lunch for a bigger fish, injured as he was, but I didn't tell Dante that. Instead, I put a comforting hand on his shoulder and told him to pack up his pole and the tackle box. We were done for the day.

"I'm sorry I ruined your fishing trip," Dante muttered as we walked back toward the cabin.

I shook my head. "You didn't ruin anything."

"Yes, I did. You probably would've stayed out on the lake fishing all day if I hadn't been so pathetic just now."

I stopped and put a hand on Dante's shoulder. "Having a heart doesn't make you weak or pathetic, Dante. It's okay to feel however you feel, and you shouldn't ever feel bad about speaking up about it."

He frowned. "Even if it ruins everyone else's fun? "

"If the people around you are having fun, but you're uncomfortable, you're around the wrong people," I said, lifting my hand from his shoulder. "Anyone worth your time should care how you feel and want you to be comfortable. It's okay if fishing isn't for you. It's not for a lot of people."

He put on one of his trademark smiles and elbowed me. "I guess you'll just have to provide for the both of us if we ever need to survive on fish."

I laughed. "Happy to, as long as you promise to stay far away from the fish so you don't scare them off."

"Deal." Dante moved in closer and took my hand, threading our fingers together as we started walking again.

I looked down at where our hands were joined, more warmth spreading through me. I couldn't remember the last time I'd held hands with someone. Maybe never. It was… nice. I could do with a bit more of that.

We came upon the rear of the house and set down the tackle box and fishing rod on the back porch. I instructed Dante to wait there while I went inside to check the place. He scoffed and complained, but I was quickly learning that was just Dante. He liked complaining almost as much as he liked the way I fussed over keeping him safe. He was just playing the part of the spoiled musician, and he did it very well.

Despite the fishing trip being a bust, I was still in an amazing mood when we arrived back at the cabin. All of that vanished the moment I slid open the back door and found the living room in disarray.

Someone had torn the cushions off the sofa and tossed them around. The lamp lay in pieces on the floor. Books had been pulled out from the bookshelf and thrown in heaps, and there were papers everywhere .

I drew the gun I kept on me at all times and pressed my back to the wall, sliding further into the house. The kitchen was wrecked, boxes and tins of food pulled out of the cabinet and thrown on the counter and floor like trash. There were pots and pans strewn everywhere, but no sign of whoever was responsible.

I threw open the bathroom door and found the medicine cabinet open, the meager contents spilling into the sink. Even my room hadn't been spared. The bed and dresser had been tossed.

I yanked open the top drawer and let out a curse asI moved everything around. There were only two things missing: Dante's phone,and the taser I kept for back up. Fuck.

Don't panic, Church. Take stock. Finish the search first and get back to Dante ASAP.

I climbed the ladder to the loft. The room was more of a wreck than usual, but it was impossible to tell if that was because someone had tossed the place, or if Dante had just been in a hurry to get ready for the fishing trip.

After checking under the beds, in the closets, and behind every curtain, I determined that whoever had been there was gone and went back outside to fetch Dante. He was lounging on one of the deck chairs with his feet up, scrolling through his phone.

Well, at least I knew where that went.

I crossed my arms and stood over him. "You're supposed to ask before you take your phone, Dante."

He flashed me a sheepish grin. "I wanted a picture of my first fish. Though I guess that didn't happen." His smile fell, and he sighed, sitting up. "What took you so long?"

"Someone searched the house while we were away," I said. "Tossed every room."

Dante's eyes widened. "Do you think it was Oscar? "

"I don't know who else it would be, but we can check the CCTV to be sure. He's gone now, but I'd like you to stay within eyesight of me for a bit, just in case."

"You'll get no objections from me," Dante said, jumping up.

I opened the back door, and he walked into the living room.

"Jesus," he muttered. "He really ripped the place apart."

"Any idea what he might be looking for?" I asked.

Dante shook his head. "No clue, but he must've had something specific in mind to do all this." He shrank back against me. "I don't like this, Church."

I didn't either. Oscar was getting more bold. Next time he decided to pay a visit, he might not wait until we were out of the house.

"I hate to admit this, Dante," I started gently, "but it may not be safe for you here anymore. Maybe we should consider moving you to the bunker."

"No," he said, spinning around. "If I go there, we'll never be alone again."

I sighed and put my hands on his shoulders. "I can't let anything happen to you." And not just because it was my job to protect him. The mere thought of Oscar ever getting his hands on my Dante again sent a spike of anger through me. I wanted to find the little bastard and wring his bloody neck just to make sure he couldn't touch Dante again. I lifted one hand to Dante's face, gently stroking a thumb across his jaw. "Keeping you safe has to be my priority, even if it means we can't…"

He caught my hand and squeezed. "One more night. Give us one more night, and then you can call Boone."

I sucked in a deep breath and glanced around at the mess. It'd take most of the afternoon and evening just to clean the place up. I'd sent Nina home early when we went fishing and I wasn't going to call her back now, not after all she'd been through. It was probably a bad idea, but dammit, I wasn't ready for this to end.

"All right," I agreed. "But you have to stay with me all night."

Dante smirked. "Trust me, kitten, I was planning to."