Cherish Me (Stark Ever After #6.5) - J. Kenner Page 0,7
His voice is flat, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking right then, which sort of ruins my point. But I press on anyway.
“He’s doing that kind of thing every day now. And you just asked Dallas to join up, too. Did he agree?”
“I think he’s tempted.”
I nod slowly. “And are you tempted?”
He lifts his hands to my shoulders and lightly runs his palms down my bare arms. “Would it bother you if I was?”
“I—” I hesitate because I don’t want to be the little wife who ties him down. But he needs to know the truth. I kept my fears from him once before and promised I never would again. So I draw a breath and start again. “You could do it. You’ve got the skills.”
That’s true. A former professional athlete, Damien is in excellent shape. His marksmanship is solid, too. He’d always been a good shot, but once he became more visible to the public, he started going to a range regularly. After the kidnapping, regularly was upgraded to frequently, and I usually join him, too.
“I hear a but,” he says.
“I’d be scared,” I admit. “I’m terrified of losing you.”
“Oh, baby.”
“I’m sorry.” Tears prick my eyes, and I know I’m being selfish. He wants to get more involved, and here I am pulling him back. More, I wish I hadn’t even started this conversation. Because I’m certain that his attitude will change when he hears my news. For a while, at least.
The truth is that Damien is a man of action, but he’s climbed the mountains he’s made so many times that it feels rote. How can I possibly discourage him when he has something to prove?
I don’t know. But I have to try. Because it’s cold terror I feel when I think of him like that, doing the stuff that the Stark Security agents in the field do.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says. “That’s not really who I am. I might be a warrior, but it’s more of the corporate variety, I’m afraid.”
“Damien…” I feel my heart squeeze and wish I’d said nothing.
“Baby, it’s okay. And I can still protect you and the girls, even if it’s in my own unique way.”
“Of course you can,” I begin, surprised when he reaches for the bedside table. He has to shift to reach the drawer’s handle, and I slide off of him so that he can tug it open. A moment later, he rolls back to face me, a small box in his hand.
“What is it?”
“Open it.”
I do, finding a lovely platinum-set watch. “It’s beautiful. But—”
I start to ask why I need a watch when I rely on my phone these days, but he interrupts me. “It’s a tracker. And not clunky and unattractive like those plastic gizmos. This one is art.”
“It is,” I agree. “It’s lovely.”
“I have one for the girls, too. Theirs have plastic bands and animals on the watch face. Mine’s more like yours.” He raises his arm, and I realize I hadn’t even noticed the new watch.
I put mine on then lift my wrist for a better look. “How does it work?”
“A phone app. I can find your location, and I can read your pulse.”
“Proof of life,” I say, then swallow.
“Or a reflection of fear.” He opens his phone, taps something, and almost instantaneously, I feel an electronic ting against my skin. “It’s not meant to communicate, though I suppose I could ping Morse Code. But by tapping you know that I’m tracking you. That I’m coming for you.”
“This is amazing.”
“It’s Noah’s design,” he adds, referring to one of Dallas’s former associates who now heads up Stark Applied Technology.
“Can I signal back to you? Turning the crown or something?”
“Pressing the crown, actually. Like an SOS. But not yet. That’s the next step. You’re wearing the first beta release. I already put the app on your phone. You’re all set up to check on me or send me a love tap.”
“I like the sound of that,” I say, then lean over to press a kiss on his cheek. “I love it,” I say. “And I love you.”
I consider giving him my present now, but I want to stick to my plan and wait. I want to be in the hotel bar, his arm around me. Just a casual evening. Just a casual present of my own.
Now, though…
I take his hand and twine my fingers through his. “I know you’re frustrated that you can’t make everything right in the world. But I’ve told you before,