Blyssfully Undone (The Blyss Trilogy 3)

She clutches the medallion in her hand as if she had already experienced the loss of it. “Okay,” she softly agrees.

“Good.” Now that I’ve cleared that up, I pick up the washcloth and carefully peel open her bathrobe. She’s looking shy, and I see she’s not going to be any help, so I nudge her legs apart. I gently wipe her clean with the warm cloth. Looking at her flushed body as I wipe away my cum off her toned thighs, shit…I could take her again right now.

She cuts through my lascivious thoughts and asks, “Do you think they can find us by the microchips in our hands?”

I toss the rag aside and place my hands on her bare thighs, giving her a look of concern. “No, baby, I’ve already told you those memory chips are read-only. They could never be a tracking device; they would have to be the size of a quarter, and then implanted…” I abruptly choke on my own words as I remember less than a month ago, presenting new tracker technology to Nick. In fact, it was the same week Jules was brought into the facility. No fucking way. The company hadn’t finished working out all the logistics. They were still working out the kinks and battery life. Plus, the satellite range hadn’t been fully developed yet.

“Travis?” Jules asks warily, breaking into my thoughts. “What are you thinking about?”

I ignore her growing apprehension as I shake my head in disbelief. The fucker couldn’t have, could he? I stand up, grasping Jules by her shoulders, and force her to lie back down on the bed. She immediately grows on edge, tensing all her muscles, and her eyes go wide with fear.

“What’s…what’s wrong? What are you doing?” she asks with panicked confusion.

Being intent on one thing only, I ignore her questions. She starts to squirm, and I sternly warn her, “Stay still.” I open her bathrobe to further expose her hips, and she twists her body, trying to get away. I grasp tightly at her thighs, growing frustrated. “Stay the fuck still, Jules!” I bark firmly. She flinches at my harshness, but this time she listens. As if my words were ice, she lays frozen on the bed, not moving a muscle.

I bend down and hover closely over her left hip, inspecting her flesh closely with my eyes while skimming her skin with my fingertips, feeling for any kind of a lump. I hope against hope I find nothing, but as I move my fingers a little to the left, I feel a hard nodule. I lift my head back toward the ceiling and bellow out, “Fuck!”

I bend back down and feel for the device again, praying to God it was a fluke, but it’s not. My breathing picks up as I feel the circumference of the quarter-sized tracker lying underneath layers of her skin. I can make out the tiniest scar where an incision was made, a mark so small one would have to actually be looking for it to find.

My outburst and odd behavior has her eyes full of alarm, and her hand flies to her chest in a panicked gesture. “You’re scaring me,” she hoarsely whispers. I glance at her face; her eyes are glassy and full of confusion. I let loose of the grip I have on her hip and take a few steps back from her. Running both hands through my hair in frustration, I begin to pace the room, trying to think. I’m so damn infuriated at myself for not thinking two steps ahead of Nick. Of course, I didn’t think in a million years I’d be stealing his woman out from under him at the last minute either. I should’ve known he would have taken these precautionary measures, going overboard, even though the tracker isn’t fully developed yet.

I have to think…shit. This changes everything. All of the plans my men and I made this morning have gone out the window. We’re going to have to rearrange, regroup somehow, to come up with a new plan, and quick.

“Travis?” Her soft, trembling voice pulls me out of my deep thoughts. With the side of my body facing her, I don’t turn to look at her. If I catch sight of her helpless blue eyes, it’ll gut me and I won’t be able to think straight.

I hold up my index finger, indicating for her to give me a moment. Valuable minutes are ticking by, and I don’t have time to explain things to her right now. I need someone with know-how, and who can provide a solution. I pull out my cellphone and call Quinn.

“Trav?” Quinn questions with consternation.

“Quinn, we’ve got a big problem.”

“Let it roll, man.”

“Just found a GPS tracker in her hip.” Jules lets out a loud gasp, and I turn to look at her as she covers her mouth with her hand. Her sweet blue eyes are drowning in foreboding terror. I try to stay detached from her emotions, and continue, “It’s brand new technology, hot off the press, and it wasn’t supposed to be on the market for another month or two, but I guess Nick pulled some strings to get his hands on it early.”