Blyssful Lies (The Blyss Trilogy 2)

She closes her eyes while shaking her head, letting out a long sigh. “I’m not even going to ask.”

I grin ruefully as I lean down to kiss her lips. “Now you’re learning. Get some rest, and I’ll have lunch made for you by the time you wake up.”

She moves her arms out from underneath the covers, stretching out as she yawns again, making her eyes bleary. “Thank you, Travis. I would appreciate that,” she says sleepily.

I stifle my own yawn and shake my head, blinking my eyes several times to avoid getting lethargic. “Would you tell me the truth if you weren’t okay otherwise?”

“Yes, I would. Really, don’t worry; I’m fine. I just need a little nap,” she reassures me with a sluggish smile.

“All right, baby, get some rest. I have a few things to get done anyway.”

She nods her head and rolls over to snuggle up under the comforter. I quietly step away and shut her bedroom door behind me. I really hated having to push her like this today, but somehow I feel the clock ticking, and not only do I want to be prepared, but I want her to be as well. After making some lunch, I eat mine and set hers aside, wrapping it up and putting it in the refrigerator to keep until she wakes. Then I take off to the upstairs computer room to begin some work and make a few phone calls.

Jules has been here with me for a little over a week now with no sign of her memory returning. I’m constantly on guard for when Julianna’s memory returns too, either in fragments or in its entirety. I’m not sure how one can diplomatically handle that particular can of worms, when she remembers me as the criminalistics bastard I really am.

As I make my way back from checking the perimeter of the cabin’s property for any signs of intrusion, I pull my 4-wheeler up beside the front porch and shut the engine down. I dismount, putting the ignition keys in my front pocket, and I can’t help but reflect back over the past month. The entire quagmire of quandaries I’ve put us in always seems to place me in a dark mood, not to mention the level of guilt I feel for placing Julianna in one predicament after another, but if it weren’t me, it would be Nick. I keep having to tell myself, I’m the better of the two evils, and I’m not the one who’s mostly responsible for her difficult situation.

I’ve worked hard at keeping consistent with her training. I’ve also taken all of Grant’s suggestions to heart, using hand signals along with being repetitive. I sure as hell hope it pays off. We’ve made a daily trek out to the bunker, so she can get to it almost blindfolded. I’ve even had her practice pulling the gun from the cubby hole behind our bed, pretending there’s an intruder. I need to keep her on her toes so she can constantly keep her guard up and be on the lookout.

I have every reason to believe I have more than one faction of men after me. There’s no way in hell I can let Jules find this out either. It’s bad enough she thinks she has to defend herself against one mob. I’ve already called some of my contacts and reinforcements to help me out. Stryker has even helped me put the wheels in motion, going through certain channels to change our identities and acquire passports.

It’s been great getting to know the real Jules, without her being stressed and aware of her captivity. I pray to God she’s starting to fall in love with me, so at least when her memory comes back she’ll maybe find it in her heart to forgive me for being the deceptive bastard I am. I expect her to hold a grudge for a while, but eventually, when she sees how much I care for her, she’ll have to pardon the past. She’s been very accepting of her circumstances lately. She has even stopped questioning everything, and takes whatever I throw her way with a grain of salt. It’s odd, but when I think back to the first day I showed her the bunker, I’d felt something change within her. I don’t know what she amended in her head that day, but I can tell she decided to put all of her trust in me.

I take in a deep breath, and then let out a heavy sigh, needing a moment to school my features and recompose my thoughts before facing her. I’m so sick of putting on false fronts and having to conceal my expressions of culpability, when all I want to do is just be real with her.

As I climb the few steps of the cabin’s porch, I hear loud music emanating from underneath the cabin’s front door and grin. I can almost see the glass window vibrating in the casing of the door, and when I grab the handle and open it, I’m accosted by a thousand decibels of music.