Joslyn jerks, glancing over her shoulder in surprise. “Yes. That’s fine, or whatever’s easiest.”
“One’s just as easy as the other.” I shrug, hating I still remember something as simple as the way she eats her eggs after twelve years. I’ve tried extremely hard to forget everything about her.
Returning my attention to breakfast, I pull a clean pan from a cupboard and spray it with oil, setting it over a new flame on my six-burner range. I don’t offer up conversation as Joslyn makes her coffee. When she takes a seat on a stool at the island, it puts her just in my peripheral vision. Staying silent, I crack eggs into the skillet.
“I want to apologize again for intruding last night,” she offers me in a quiet voice. “I should have waited until we could meet at your office today.”
“You weren’t intruding,” I reply. It’s not said as a means to soothe her conscience but to set up a jab that’s meant to hurt. “I’d already fucked her. My evening was complete.”
When Joslyn flinches, I feel like shit for being so bloody crass, but I’m trying to reconcile the anger over how she left me with the fury over the fact someone tried to kill her.
Fuck, I hate she still matters to me when I know she shouldn’t.
Twelve years ago, I fell in love with Joslyn Meyers with no more effort than it takes to blow a feather into the air. I had just come to work for Jerico at his newly formed security service. We had served in Afghanistan together—Jerico with the U.S. Marines, while I’d been with the Royal Marines—and I was the first person he asked to join him on this private venture away from the military.
Jerico had warned me. He’d seen the way I watched her while she performed on stage in a popular Vegas pop act, and he’d told me to steer clear.
But I hadn’t.
I couldn’t.
And I had thought Joslyn felt the same. Granted, she was so young—not even twenty—and I wasn’t much more mature at twenty-six, but it felt like the real deal to me.
I guess that’s why it had hurt so much when she’d broken it off with absolutely no forewarning it was coming. One day, we were head over heels in love. The next, she’d told me it was over and she was moving to Hollywood.
End of story.
I’m fairly sure I hated her then for making a tough guy like me hurt. For choosing a life without me. I hadn’t known such a wisp of a girl could cause a physical pain inside my chest, but fuck if it didn’t take me a long damn time to get over her.
The security panel in the short hallway to the laundry room chimes. A mechanical female voice drones out, “Warning… front door opened.”
Joslyn jolts, a flash of fear crossing her face. My initial instinct is to gather her in my arms to soothe the terror away. Instead, I only say, “That’s just Rachel.”
As if on cue, Rachel enters the kitchen, carrying a box of donuts in one hand and a small duffel bag in another. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” Joslyn replies softly with a shy smile.
Rachel sets the duffel bag on the floor near Joslyn’s stool. “Got you a travel bag with some clothes and toiletries.”
“Thank you.” Joslyn’s tone is surprised and overly grateful.
I cock an eyebrow at the sweet confections in Rachel’s hands. “Those things will kill you, Rach.”
“But I’ll go with a smile on my face,” she teases with a grin, then tosses the box onto the island countertop in front of Joslyn. She opens the top, pulls out two donuts, and then nabs a paper towel. To Joslyn, she says, “Help yourself.”
I slide Joslyn’s over-easy eggs onto a clean plate, then toss a few slices of bacon on it. She ignores the donuts, giving me a barely perceptible, “Thank you,” when I set the food in front of her. I’m sure I’ve set the atmosphere for her meek and quiet attitude right now, and that’s fine.
Rachel and I need to settle some things, which is why I invited her over this morning.
“What’s the plan?” she asks as she settles on a stool next to Joslyn.
I whisk more eggs in a bowl while I give Rachel the low down on what Joslyn and I talked about last night.
“Her stalker is incredibly smart,” I reply, shooting a quick glance at Joslyn. She’s now warily watching me just from the mention of this asswipe. “He’s been able to find out where she lives, despite her using a protective alias to purchase her home. It tells me he might be a hacker—and a damned good one at that. I’d be shocked if he didn’t already know she’s here in Vegas.”
Rachel nods in understanding. “Good thing you’re going to spring Bebe.”