Keller doesn't want kids? Not that I'd judge anyone who chooses not to have children. I never saw myself as a father, but Denielle Keller has a knack for her friends' offspring. Haddie and Audrey equally love the woman.
She drops her arms and lets them hang by her sides. Her tone changes, and I sit forward again.
"I left New York because of the humiliation he caused for me, not because I cared. I told you that I wasn't in love with him. I wouldn't make that mistake again after Charlie."
Rhys snorts. "D, this is fucking bullshit. That was in high school. Are you telling me you will never care for another man again? Plus, you just hung out with Charlie for, like, twelve hours the other day."
What a freaking soap opera.
Paying close attention, the subtle shift in Denielle's posture registers in my brain. I've been studying this woman for weeks to unearth any weakness she may have. I can probably read her better than her lifelong friends. Her palm is tapping her thigh, the movement increasing in speed. She's getting agitated.
"I had coffee with Charlie," she snaps at Rhys, and he stumbles back. "One fucking iced latte. His mother died. You know how close I used to be with Kelly." Her voice rises with every word. Lilly's wide eyes reveal that she is as shocked as the rest of us by her friend's display. Denielle stands with her profile to me, and I narrow my eyes at the tremble in her chin.
"I thought you guys had dinner as well," Lilly whispers. "Where were you, if not with Charlie?"
Denielle's head snaps to her best friend, and it's clear she got caught. I'd like to know as well where she was. She didn't show back up on the property until the middle of the night. My daily check of the security logs revealed that tidbit to me.
"I was out." She slams her bottled water on the counter, pivots on her heels, and marches out of the room like her tight ass is on fire.
What the fuck?
I don't seeKeller for the rest of the day. Lilly had to run to the office for a few hours, which, therefore, included me as herShadow. Rhys stayed with Audrey, and by the time we got back, Lilly headed straight upstairs to tuck her little girl into bed. I beelined to the guesthouse to hit the pillow for a few hours of not sleeping.
When I get to the gym for my—now regular—early morning workout, Denielle has already left. The puddle around the treadmill tells me that much. A check of the feed confirms my observation. She went down to the gym shortly after midnight and left around two thirty. We don't have cameras in every room, like at the vineyard, but enough to track the movement of the property's occupants—or intruders, if anyone was ever dumb enough. Again. The need to find out why she is putting herself through this self-torture in the middle of the night is beginning to distract me more frequently than I'd like—which would benever.
The following day, Lilly and Keller act as if nothing had happened when I report for my shift at one. Denielle ignores me, and I gladly reciprocate the sentiment. I've officially entered the stage of permanent exhaustion, resulting in the grudging decision to pause our game. If it wasn't for my family history, I'd consider pharmaceutical help in getting me back on a semi-normal sleep schedule. I've been acting like a juvenile high school bully who has to show his opponent who's in charge—not that there was ever a question about that.
Is that right?a voice laughs sardonically in my mind.
I ignore the internal taunt.
Days blur together, and I'm starting to get back to a routine. I'm back to being theShadow. We fall into the same rhythm as beforeherarrival.
Denielle has spent the last few days at her new place of employment. Being open seven days a week, she either got the short straw, or she's trying to prove something. Or she's avoiding being at the house.
It's Monday,and Lilly is at home. Rhys left for the office early for a conference call between the different heads of security. With the Altman Hotels being global, each country (or group of countries) has its own head to hire the local staff, set up schedules, etc. Essentially, all of them report to George, but Rhys, with his business degree, is the operational lead. George prefers to handle the in-person aspects, not the administrative paperwork.
I'm on first shift. I technically clocked out two hours ago, but I'm doing rounds through the house, per usual when Rhys is off the property. It's not necessary—the rest of the guys have it covered—but my friendship with Lilly and Rhys has caused me to take extra precautions with the female McGuires when they're sans Rhys at home.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out. An alert from the main gate tells me someone is coming up. I step up to the nearest window on the second floor and track the sleek, black Maybach as it rolls to a stop in front of the main entrance. We aren't expecting anyone, and I don't recognize the car, which makes me pause.
The passenger side door flies open, and Denielle scrambles out of the pretentious vehicle, seat belt halfway wrapped around her body. My eyes narrow, and I move closer to the glass.
What the—?
On the driver's side, a tall blond guy emerges. Collin Liberman. I did some research after the recent kitchen conversation. He is the embodiment of a spoiled rich brat. My sources confirmed that he couldn't keep his dick in his pants. Not to mention the coke habit no one has mentioned. I wonder if that's common knowledge. His white dress shirt is tucked into charcoal slacks, loafers completing the picture. I snort at the joke of a man. Peering down, I scan my attire of green tee, washed-out blue jeans, and black boots. My Parabellum shoulder holster is the finishing touch of the ensemble. I smirk at realizing that I matched my holster color to my shoes. I could've grabbed the tan one.I guess I have one subconscious fashion weakness.
Just as I peer back up, the dude grabs Denielle by the wrist, jerking her around to face him.
My adrenaline picks up, and I grip the window frame to remain in place. I'm not getting involved in— Denielle attempts to pull out of his hold, her eyes flying around wildly. She's acting like a cornered animal.
Soon-to-be-deadCollin latches onto her other arm and roots her to the spot. He's saying something to her. His face is flushed. He's barely holding on to his control. From my vantage point, the tears in Denielle's eyes are clearly visible. She keeps tugging, but her wrists are shackled by his fingers.
With my senses on alert, confusion accompanies the spiking heat. Why isn't she forcing her way out of this situation? She had no qualms about kicking me in the balls for much less. I watch for another moment, but when her chest begins to rise and fall rapidly, I have had enough. The thrashing pulse in my ears drowns out the sound my boots make with every step I take down the staircase. I rip the front door open with enough force for it to slam into the wall.
That'll make a dent.
Her quivering voice drifts toward me. "Collin, plea—"