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“Go hide, baby, and I need you to remember this: trust no one but me. No one. I don’t care who they tell you they are. I don’t care what badge they show you. They come at you, you shoot first and ask questions later.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“I’m preparing you in case something goes wrong. Go, now.” He turns me to face in the opposite direction, and I do as he says. I rush forward, hurrying to the right, down a short hallway, I enter a bedroom, shutting and locking the door and taking in the small space. There’s just a bed, two nightstands, and a small, very small window that’s eye level, which strikes me as by design. No one is breaking in that tiny thing. I rush to the nightstand, where I open the drawer and pull out the gun, grateful for those classes. So much makes sense now.
My mind goes back to the past, to only a few weeks after Noah, no, Aaron and I had met, the two of us sitting on my couch, eating popcorn and watching the new JLo police drama.
“Do you know how to shoot?” he asks, pausing the show.
“I’ve never even touched a gun,” I say, “and I like it that way.”
“No woman should live alone in a city like Houston and not know how to shoot.”
“I’m afraid of guns,” I say. “I’m not shooting one. I don’t want to own one.”
“That’s a problem we need to fix. You learn to handle a gun, you learn to make it your friend, and you’ll stop being afraid.”
I frown. “You know how to shoot that well?”
“Yes,” he says simply. “Very well.”
“Why is a lawyer and financier an expert with a gun?”
He leans in and kisses my neck, whispering near my ear, “You know what a control freak I am.”
Heat rushes through me as I think of just how much of a control freak he is, most certainly when we’re naked. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
He inches back to look at me. “Owning a gun, knowing you can defend yourself, is control.” He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m going to teach you how to have that kind of control.”
“Then you won’t be in control,” I tease.
His eyes burn hot, and the next thing I know, I’m on my back with his big body on top of me. “Who’s in control?”
“You,” I say, sounding and feeling breathless. “But only because I let you.”
“That’s right, baby. Only because you let me and be careful who you give that power to.”
“Should I be careful with you?” I challenge.
His eyes darken, shadows in their depths, before he murmurs, “It’s too late for that,” and then he kisses me.
My mind comes back to the present, but I’m still remembering that comment: it’s too late for that, and I believe now is why he didn’t just get me a gun. He pushed me to practice using it. I’m a damn good shot now. I could kill him, and he knows it. That didn’t worry him. Me protecting myself from everyone else did though. I scan and find a door that stirs unease in me. I walk toward it and pull it open to find nothing but a small shallow empty closet. I walk back to the door and lean on the surface where I listen and listen hard. There is no sound beyond the wind outside, a gusting sharp wind that seems to rock the house. I listen for voices. I listen for anything at all, but there’s nothing but the storm outside.
The silence suffocates me right up until the moment that I hear a tap on that one single window in the room.
Chapter nine
Ashley
The tapping on the window stops.
I stand there with the door of the cabin bedroom at my back and watch the window, the gun in my hand. Seconds tick by that turn into minutes. There is no more tapping, but I’m not crazy. I heard it. I know I heard it. It hits me suddenly that this could be a sign that there is someone other than Noah’s, Aaron’s, mentor here. I have to warn Aaron. I reach for my phone, digging in my purse with the hope it will be there, and it is, but I have no number to contact Aaron. I’ve tried in the past. Even a tough CIA agent could need backup if there was a multi-layered attack, and while I’m not much in the way of backup, my gun is another story. As Aaron himself taught me, a bullet evens the playing field, and sometimes, ends the game altogether.
I turn to the door and unlock it, nerves ripping through my belly. I can do this. I have the gun, and while this particular Glock I’m holding is large for my hand, I can use it. Aaron made sure I knew how to adjust accordingly, and I will. Slowly, I turn the knob and open the door, peeking into the empty hallway. I listen again, but the only sound that touches my ears is the crackle of the fire. I step forward, and I cringe with the creak of the wood beneath my foot. I stop again and wait, nervous that I’ve alerted someone, who I don’t want to alert, that I’m approaching. Seconds pass, and still, there is nothing but the popping of the fire. I step slightly right to avoid an uneven board then slowly, I step and repeat, step and repeat, maneuvering my way up the short hallway, the gun heavier with each passing step.
I reach the end of my path and press my back against the wall, easing around the corner just enough to view the empty living area. That’s when Aaron and another man walk into the room, and I quickly flatten against the wall again.
“This was a dick move, Edward,” Aaron says. “You’re lucky I haven’t already killed you.”
