Resonance of Stars (Greenstone Security #5) - Anne Malcom Page 0,91
course, I’m great,” I said.
His brow remained furrowed for a second before he squeezed harder, smiled, and kissed my neck.
I should’ve gotten an Oscar for that one too.
I waited until Duke was asleep. Then I waited an hour more. I had to make sure he was deep in his dreams to not notice that I was extricating myself from his arms. It only worked because he was dead tired. It had been a long day, and not only that, he’d more than exhausted himself fucking me earlier.
But it hadn’t been that, had it?
It hadn’t been fucking.
As much as I wanted to throat-punch myself for even thinking it, he had made love to me tonight. Twice.
He’d fucked me earlier, after we’d got back from the hospital. Hard, desperate, violent against the front door of the cabin.
But later, after the family dinner, after all the celebrations, the love and happiness so dense it sank into our very pores, he’d done it first outside on the daybed under the stars.
Then he’d carried me inside the cabin and done it on the bed.
We hadn’t spoken a word, because what he was doing said it all. The stars said it all.
Which, of course, was why I was leaving.
Not just because there was a chance I’d put Duke’s entire family in danger by going to that hospital. That was a part of it. But it was mostly because he had made love to me under the stars.
I dressed quietly, watched him for longer than I should’ve. It was taking too much of a risk. He could wake up and this wouldn’t work. He’d chain me to the bed before he let me pull this shit.
But still, I stayed a beat longer, wished for a different life, a different name.
Then, I grabbed his phone off the nightstand and walked out the door.
The night was quiet.
Which was all too fucking loud for my liking. The crunch of my boots against the gravel taunted me, because it was the sound of me walking away from the only good thing I’d ever have in my life. At the same time, walking away was probably the only truly good and selfless thing I’d done in my life.
I was on the crest of the hill, could see the faint outline of the main house as they always left their porch light on. If I looked back, I’d see the cabin. But I didn’t look back.
I looked down and tapped at the phone.
I didn’t know the members of Greenstone Security well. That night that had begun all of this was the first and only time I’d seen the entire team in one room, and I’d been understandably distracted. This decision was an important one, one I’d thought on for hours while I’d been smiling, talking, laughing with Duke’s family—while I’d been silently saying goodbye.
I needed someone with loose morals, someone deadly. The latter was the entirety of the team. And the former was another large chunk. So, even with my limited knowledge, I had a good chance of finding someone with the skills I needed for what I was planning. But there was a small chance I’d choose wrong, that this person would have ethics or whatever to do anything but contact Duke, who would likely yell at me a lot and then lock me in a room or chain me to a bed.
So yeah, my future was in the balance of the person I had decided to call.
“Duke, dude. I swear the only acceptable reason you have for waking me up is to tell me you’ve got some action for me—non-sex related, of course. I’m married now, remember?”
“Rosie?” I asked.
“Who is this?”
“This is Anastasia Edwards, and I need your help.”
13
I had no idea how she got to me so quickly, considering I called her late last night and it was the early morning. The sun had only been up for an hour and I was prepared to wait a lot longer. As much as I thought I was a strong woman, with the resolve I had last night, the utter aloneness of these past hours had been terrifying. Duke’s absence was a physical thing. But I couldn’t let that show, especially not to a badass like Rosie who pulled up to the shitty motel an hour away from the ranch I’d been hiding in these past hours.
She’d given me detailed instructions the moment what I was doing became apparent. There were no warnings, no hesitation, no straight-up refusal—which I’d been expecting. This