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“No, they’re not.” She sniffs and nods at him. “Who are you anyway?”
“Rafe Vestri.” I lean into him. “My boyfriend. And who’s the hottie with you?”
The hottie in question snorts. God, his eyes are so blue. “Troy Jordan. Storm for friends.” He flicks her a quick smile. “Her boyfriend.”
He makes it sound like a question, so I’m not surprised when she nods as if in reply.
How odd. But also how touching, when he takes her hand and tangles her fingers together, then lifts it to lay a kiss her knuckles.
“Wait a minute…” A laugh escapes me, because nah, this can’t be true. No way. But he did say… “Troy Jordan? Jordan Enterprises? The guy mentioned on the news yesterday? They said… Oh my God!”
“I saw that, too,” Rafe mutters. “A secret organization in Baltimore. They offed your parents and your uncle. They were after you.”
He says nothing, just stares back at Rafe, shoulders tense.
“That’s over now, right?” I ask, worried again. “Culprits taken to prison and all that?”
“All over,” Raylin says, though her voice is soft. “Which is why we thought it’d be safe to visit you.”
“And you live now in Baltimore?”
“I live where he lives,” she whispers, and he smiles. “He saved me, protected me, made me believe. He’s everything to me.”
“That’s beautiful,” I say, because that’s just how I feel with Rafe.
Her boyfriend looks away, and strange thing is, his eyes seem bright with tears. He hauls her to him, tucking her to his side. “My girl.”
God, the way they look at each other, the way they cling to each other… Sometimes I can sense things, and this one rings loud and clear:
It looks like true love to me.
