Shameless - Sybil Bartel Page 0,37
to check in and he was with Vincenzo.” I thought about her tits getting wet, and my cock pulsed painfully.
“I’m not sure, but I got a text from him saying to head to you for backup and bypass retrieval of Vincenzo’s wife.”
Fuck. That wasn’t good. “Did she show up at the motel at the base of the mountain?”
“No. Neither did the vehicle from the parking lot at the Japanese restaurant.”
“That’s good. That means they don’t know where I was heading.” Maybe whoever tossed my place didn’t figure out the location of my cabin.
“Negative. The wife’s vehicle was spotted at a gas station off your exit an hour ago. I think it’s too much of a coincidence to assume she doesn’t know where you are or at least the general location.”
Fuck, it was going to be a long night. “Any sightings since the highway patrol camera feeds Luna told me about?”
“None, and no sighting of the other vehicle.”
Goddamn it. “If they’re not at the hotel, where the hell would they have gone? Driving conditions are shit up here now.”
“I’d say the backside of the mountain. It’s less steep.”
“And four times as long. But they’d both still have a problem the last few miles without four-wheel drive.”
“The reinforcements Vincenzo ordered are in a four-wheel drive.”
“Fucking great. How far out are you?”
Ronan paused. “GPS says oh-two hundred. But radio reports are saying Georgia is going to shut down the highways due to ice. If that happens, it’ll be closer to oh-four hundred.”
I glanced at the time. It was only twenty-two hundred now. “Copy that. We’ll be fine for a few hours. If you’re not getting up here any time soon, hopefully no one else is either. You can use this number to check in.”
Ronan didn’t reply.
Fucker sometimes checked out when you were talking to him. I didn’t know if it was PTSD, TBI or if he was just thinking, and I never asked. Except tonight my instinct was telling me something was off. “You there?”
“Did Luna tell you he didn’t recognize who was on the feeds when your place got tossed?”
What the fuck? “He lied?” Luna didn’t lie. Ever.
“No.”
“Ronan,” I warned.
“He didn’t recognize them,” he stated in the same goddamn even tone he said everything else in.
“What are you getting at?” Ronan could give a goddamn politician a lesson in caginess. “Did you recognize them?”
“No.”
Jesus fucking Christ. “Spit it out.”
“I recognized their walk.”
My shoulders tensed.
“Luna missed it,” he continued.
This wasn’t good. At fucking all. I knew where he was going with this, but I hoped to God I was wrong. “Russian?”
“Military trained,” Ronan confirmed.
“Vincenzo’s upped his game.” Goddamn it.
“Candle has cold weather training. Harm’s living it.”
“I know where you’re going with this, and I’ll tell you the exact same thing I told Luna. Fuck no.”
“Game’s changed,” Ronan stated. “They could secure the perimeter.”
“I don’t have a perimeter up here. I have fucking mountains.”
“Russian Armed Forces trains snipers same as the Marines and Rangers,” Ronan calmly pointed out.
“Goddamn it.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Has it really come down to this? G.I. Fucked-up Joe and a loose cannon?”
“Tactically, it’s the smart call.”
“Tactically, the less people who know my location, the better,” I argued.
“Your location’s already blown.”
“Jesus fuck.” I hated that he was right, but upstairs in my shower was a nineteen-year-old trust fund brat with probably a six-digit social media following and a penchant for selling people out. Rehabbed or not, she now knew the location. My place was already blown.
“Should I make the call?” Ronan asked.
Fuck. “Yeah.”
“Copy. I’ll call back with ETAs.” Ronan hung up.
I hung my head.
I PATHETICALLY CRIED IN THE shower.
Acting like the teenager he accused me of being, I had a newfound sympathy for the insane woman stalking him. I hadn’t even slept with Shade, and he had me stupidly crying in the shower.
Damn it, Summer, pull it together.
I didn’t need to care what an infuriating bodyguard thought of me or what he even said to me. I was Summer Amherst. I was untouchable… unless some mafia guy I’d never met decided to shoot me because I’d mouthed off to his wife. Then maybe I wouldn’t get to spend my life living off a trust fund.
Whatever.
I washed my hair in the shower that was tiled in all dark slate and was as imposing as its owner. Using shampoo I never would’ve dreamed of using a year ago because it didn’t come from a salon, I prayed he had at least a hairbrush in one of the drawers of