Giorgio (Vigilance 1)

Lane stared out the window and tapped his fingers against the door. I tried to ignore it. How was it that I’d ignored the burning desert sun and bugs crawling over me as I lay unmoving on the jungle floor, waiting for my mark to appear, but Lane managed to push me past my limits in mere minutes? “Can you seriously not sit still?”

“I’ve never been very good at that.”

“For God’s sake, can’t you just do something on your fucking phone. You do have your phone, right?”

He huffed. “Of course I do, but I can’t read in the car. I’ll get carsick.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Do you want me to throw up in your car?”

“Just turn your fucking music on.”

He did, and I absolutely did not dance or sing along to Mariah Carey, Christina Aguilera, or Céline Dion during the drive to the cabin. I also did not take my eyes off the road for far too long to watch Lane car dancing and think about how I wanted to feel his body move like that against mine.

He’s the boss’s son. I was going to have to put that reminder on repeat in my mind for the entire time I was with him.

When I pulled up at the cabin, I was immediately convinced I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere. Or, far more likely since my sense of direction was impeccable, Sandra had gotten something wrong when she’d sent the directions for the last few miles where she’d warned me the GPS might not work.

“Stay here,” I told Lane.

He was staring in horror at the rundown cabin that looked smaller than my tiny apartment. “This isn’t it, right?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

There were no cars in the driveway and no signs anyone was there. I peered in the dirty windows, then knocked on the door. No one answered.

Keeping my hand on my weapon, I walked the perimeter. There were furnishings in the cabin, though they’d seen better days. I could see bags of groceries on the kitchen counter. Were those the ones I’d had delivered? There was nothing to tell me for sure we were where we were meant to be. I got back in the car.

Lane gave me an apprehensive look. “Tell me this is the wrong place and we’re leaving.”

“I want to double-check the number on the mailbox.” I drove back down the driveway and groaned. “The number matches the one your mother gave me.”

“She must have misremembered it. There’s no way she’d expect me to stay in a cabin like this.”

As prissy as he was, she sure as hell wouldn’t, and I imagined if she saw the place, she’d run screaming.

I pulled out my phone and called X. “I think the address for the cabin is wrong.”

“Hang on let me check.” A few moments later he came back to the phone. “It looks right to me. That property is definitely owned by Sandra’s friend.”

“Did the friend happen to mention what condition the cabin was in?”

“Sandra said her friend told her it was in need of a few repairs, but that it was still a great vacation place.”

“If we were a family of raccoons, it would be.”

“Fuck. It’s that bad?”

“I would have thought it was abandoned. It’s going to be more like camping than the sort of vacation I imagine Lane is used to.”

“Stay there tonight, and I’ll see if I can find something else.

I glanced over at Lane. “That’s not going to go over well.”

“I’m more worried about his safety than his accommodations. He’d be better off sleeping in a tent than somewhere that asshole could find him.”

“I agree, but trust me when I say he’s not going to see it that way.”

Lane was scowling at me and shaking his head.

“Convince him otherwise.”

“I don’t think you—”

“Gotta go.” The fucking bastard ended the call. He was going to owe me for this.

“This is it. Let’s get the bags unpacked.”

“No. No. No. My mother said this was her friend’s vacation cabin.”

“Apparently her friend has a different idea of vacation than you and your mother do.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not staying here.”

“Yeah, princess, you are.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Then don’t fucking act like one.”

With a huff, he opened the door, climbed out, slammed it, and walked toward the cabin.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To see if there’s anywhere here I could possibly sleep.”

“If you can’t find a place, then I guess you’ll stay up all night because this is where were staying. Come back and get your bags.”

He scowled at me. “Aren’t you getting them?”

“I’m here to protect you. I’m not a servant.”

This time Lane did run a hand through his hair, messing up the way it had been styled.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. You’re not a servant. This… this is not acceptable.”

“I understand your feelings on the matter, but this is what we have, and we’re staying for tonight.”