Pretending She's Mine

“Was that wrong? Would you like me to fly them back to New York? I can do that.”

“No. It wasn’t wrong.” I shook my head. I had thrown all my energy into having Journey moved from the hospital last night. I hadn’t called to check in with Avajean.

“If you’re in Big Bear, should I have a car drive them to you? They aren’t far away. It would be easy to arrange.”

The knot under my ribs tightened. That would mean Journey would meet Avajean. She would know the truth about why I left. I didn’t think either of us w

ere prepared for that conversation. It was clear she was confused about yesterday’s attack. I couldn’t heap this problem on her.

“Mickey, tell Nicole to stay where she is. If Gene and Shelly need them to leave, find something suitable. I’d like Avajean nearby, but I’m not ready for her to arrive at the cabin.”

“Absolutely. Anything else?”

I exhaled. “I’m going to be in Big Bear for a while. Clear my New York schedule. Clear everything for the next couple of days, and I’ll be back online in a couple days for calls.”

“I will handle everything.”

“Good. Thank you. Please tell Nicole I will call tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

I hung up and looked out the window at the tree line. I had to decide what was safest for Avajean. For now, everyone was most protected by holding onto the truth a little while longer.

Until I had some answers, it was going to be difficult to work on capturing Journey’s attacker. The police had visited this morning but, while Journey was unconscious, there wasn’t much they could do. I wanted to speak to her first.

I hadn’t visited the cabin in Big Bear in over a year. It was far from L.A. and there was no reason to think the paparazzi would be able to find her here. Keeping her safe meant keeping her off the public’s radar. As far as they knew, she was at her Malibu home recovering. Dante was instructed to move in and out of her compound as if she were there. I wanted food deliveries. Flowers. All the expected activity surrounding Journey’s recovery. I wanted whoever had done this to believe she was in Malibu.

I flattened a large map on the coffee table and sat on the couch. I needed to focus on the attack. I circled the locations of Journey’s timeline for the seventy-two hours prior to the shooting. Dante had reluctantly forwarded her schedule to me. He threatened to ride up to Big Bear if Journey didn’t call the minute she awakened. He was the only one who knew where she was. It was a reluctant agreement I made with him. I traded revealing her actual location with taking over her security.

The door creaked open and I looked up.

God, she was gorgeous. I had tried to forget how soft her lips were. How the sunlight made her eyes look like the Caribbean Sea. For years, I built a security empire without a single glimpse of Journey Tessier’s breathtaking body. But I was a fucking idiot to think I could erase her. The lines of her body had been seared into my hands. I knew every curve and freckle. I couldn’t forget her, even when I drowned myself in bourbon and brunettes.

“How was the shower?” I asked.

Her hair hung in damp tendrils on her shoulders.

“Good. I needed it.” She walked toward me.

“Feeling any better?”

She shrugged. “Where did these clothes come from?”

“I had a few things sent here while you recuperate.”

“A few things? I saw an entire closet full of outfits in my size,” she argued.

“I might have gone a little overboard,” I admitted.

“You can return them. All of them. They aren’t necessary. And as soon as I’m home, I’ll have this outfit delivered to you.” She glanced down at the flowing pants and tank top that clung to her breasts. “I’ll call my driver to come pick me up. Or Dante. I’m sure he’d rather do it himself anyway.”

I shook my head. “No.”

She ignored my answer and walked past the couch. “Where is my phone?” She scanned the dining room table and the kitchen counter.

“Journey, you aren’t going anywhere. You’re staying here.”

“The hell I am.” It was the first glimpse of the spitfire I knew. I let out a deep breath, relieved she wasn’t different. That two years hadn’t changed her.