Dirty Rich Secrets Part Three Read online

  “I’m not sure you are though,” she rebuts. “You don’t get to leave again and have us be okay.”

  And just that fast, we’re already back in the fight we were having in the stairwell. I start walking, and I don’t have to drag her along or throw her over my shoulder. She’s all in for this battle, quick to keep pace, ready to be alone with me, just as I am with her. Because we both know that some wars are better fought in private, and ours is one of them.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Aaron…

  The path to a battlefield is never simple

  For Ashley and me, safety comes first. The lay of the land first.

  I halt us at the steel door to our right, which I open to find a small shooting range. I motion for Ashley to wait on me as I walk to the rows of cabinets and open one. There’s an impressive stock of ammunition. Savage is clearly ready for his own war at all times. He’s growing on me. I reload my weapons and then grab a plastic bag, conveniently located in the cabinet as well. I fill it with more ammunition. I’ll come back for more of everything later. Once I’m done, I return to the door where Ashley waits.

  If my urgency to load up on weaponry worries her, she doesn’t show it.

  Wordlessly, I motion her back into the hallway, and we start our travels again, passing three doors, all of which I not only check but update Ashley on what I find: an office, a bedroom, another bedroom and then at the final door is one more bedroom. It’s large, a second master, with a king-size bed. “This one,” I say, “but stay here a moment.” Once again, I don’t wait for a reply.

  I enter the room, and she steps to the door, watching me as I check the closet and a bathroom, before looking under the bed and chair. As much as I want to grab Ashley and pull her into the room where I strip her naked and take her to bed, I can’t. Not yet. That might calm the tension between us now, but it won’t end it and ending it is my goal.

  I cross to stand in front of her, catching her arms and walking her into the room, kicking the door shut behind her. “I didn’t leave you. I always knew where you were. I knew the day you went to see the movie Little. I knew the day you rejoined a karate studio, and the day you went back to the shooting range. I knew the day you colored your hair, which, by the way, looks good brunette, but I love your natural red, and I’m going to make you feel safe being you again.”

  “You were watching me?”

  “Yes, baby, I was watching you.”

  Anger burns in her stare, and she grabs my shirt. “And you didn’t tell me? You let me feel like I was alone? You let me question everything I thought I knew about us.”

  I catch her wrists. “You shouldn’t have questioned me or us.”

  “Because you told me so many truths?”

  “I told you I loved you. I showed you I loved you because I do fucking love you.”

  “You should have let me know you were watching.”

  “I wanted to. Damn, woman, don’t you know I wanted to?”

  “You’re a CIA agent—”

  “Was. I was a CIA agent.”

  “Whatever, Aaron. See? I got the name right. I know who you are. I’m not a slow damn learner. You could have gotten me a message.”

  “You didn’t trust me, Ashley. Had you turned on me, we both could have ended up dead.”

  “How were you watching me and solving this case?”

  I release her and push off the door, scrubbing my jaw where a four-day beard sits that needs a damn razor taken to it. I hate every part of this backstory. I really fucking hate it. A part of me wishes I would have just taken her to another country and hidden her away months ago. I turn to face her. “Whoever did this is now ten feet below ground,” I say. “And that’s what I was trying to avoid. If you set off red flags, if I set off red flags—and you disappearing would do that—then Mick could get spooked. If he gets spooked and runs, he runs with any proof I might find to clear my name.”

  “What happens if the proof is already gone? What happens if we can’t find proof to clear your name?”

  “We will,” I say, my hands settling on my hips. “We will.”

  She pushes off the door and crosses to stand in front of me. “What if we don’t?”

  I catch her waist and pull her to me. “You don’t know me well enough yet, or you wouldn’t ask that question.”

  “Aaron, Noah, what if we—”

  I cup her head and kiss the hell out of her, the way I’ve wanted to for months, the way I plan to for the rest of our lives. “We will. I will. But I can, and will, take you away and hide us away if that becomes necessary. Is that what you need to hear?”

  “I don’t know what I need to hear,” she says. “I don’t want to run away from this, but I don’t want to lose you again. I don’t want you to die. I thought you were dead.”

  My hands come down on her arms. “And I’m trying to make sure you don’t end up dead.”

  “I know that.”

  “I don’t think you’re processing the implications of all that’s happened.”

  “I am,” she insists.

  “Are you? Because these people sent you flowers after I left and made you think they were from me for a reason. Whoever this is, is fucking with us.”

  “I get that. I do.”

  “They put a hit out on you, baby. That hit doesn’t just go away. It’s got money attached. It’s a lot of money. Assassins will come. They’ll come hard at you and at me.”

  She pales. “Is that who those men were back at the cabin?”

  “I don’t know. I had to kill them before I could make them talk, and they had no ID on their persons, which means they’re professional. Professionals like me don’t get named.”

  She takes a shaky breath and then catches my hips and presses her face to my chest. I capture her face and tilt it to mine. “Talk to me. What are you feeling?”

  “Too many things. So damn many things. I can’t turn it off. I can’t do my thing and fix this like I would at the office. You can’t even do your thing and fix this.”

  “I can and I will. I need you to trust me. I know after everything that’s happened that it’s difficult, but—”

  “I do. I do trust you. I’m just scared and angry, and like I said, there are too many things to deal with right now. I’m on overload. I think I just need sleep. I need food. I need a proper shower and clean clothes.” Her voice lowers. “And I need you.”

  “You have me. I’m not leaving you again. I promise you.”

  “Until the situation makes it necessary.”

  “Never again,” I say. “You have my word.”

  “Make me believe it,” she challenges, and I don’t need to be told again. I know what she wants. I know what she needs. It’s what I want and need. I close my mouth down on hers, and I’m back to kissing the hell out of her, and damn, if she’s not kissing the hell out of me, too. I turn her, intending to take her down on the bed when there’s a thundering knock on the door. “We have a problem!” Savage shouts through the door, and with that, I turn Ashley and put her at my back, instinctually placing myself between her and trouble. And, already, I’m striding away from her and toward Savage.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Aaron…

  Anticipating the worst—that we’ve been found—I pull my weapon, aim it, and open the door. Savage stands there, not holding his weapon. He arches a brow. “That’s a bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?”

  “What the hell is the emergency, Savage?”

  “I didn’t get your pizza order. Pepperoni or what?”

  “What’s the emergency, Savage?”

  “I’m fucking hungry, and I need to order before you two get naked and I can’t get your order.”

  “Do you know how much I want to kill you right now?” I ask, before holstering my weapon.

  His lips quirk. “That would be an interesting matchup, now wouldn’t it? You and me going one-on-one? I’m not sure I’d underestimate me if I were you, but it would make it fun for me if you did.”r />
  There’s jest in his voice, but there is a brutal quality to the look in his eyes that tells me he’s not jesting at all. “What happened to ordering the pizza your way to avoid suspicion?”

  “About that. I’m not a creature of habit. I don’t like habits. Habits are predictable. You have the luxury of picking your toppings.”

  “Ham and Pineapple,” Ashley calls out, and Savage leans around me and eyes her. “No. Just no. I have to eat this, too, and that is just wrong. Those things do not belong on pizza. Not to mention, ex-mercenaries do not eat fucking pineapple on pizza.”

  I step back so that I’m no longer standing between him and Ashley, and I find her sitting on the end of the mattress as she says, “Counter, Savage.”

  “Meat lovers,” he says. “I want all the meat.”

  “Because you’re a meathead,” I murmur.

  Savage winks at me and says, “I’m not fighting until after the pizza, no matter how much you taunt me. It won’t be a fair fight for you. I get cranky when I’m hungry.”

  “Pepperoni,” Ashley counters, as if nothing that just took place between me and Savage really happened.

  “That’s boring,” Savage replies.

  “I can live with and embrace boring right about now,” Ashley replies.

  Savage grimaces and gives a nod before looking at me. “I’ll give her her pepperoni. You will, too, because you’re the reason her life isn’t boring.”

  “You’ll understand the shiftiness of that comment when you finally find your Ashley.”

  “Been there,” he says, “done that. Lost her.” His eyes glint dark, and he turns away, but not before I see a shot of pain rip through his eyes.

  Fuck.

  I want to ask how.

  I need to know how.

  “We’re not them,” Ashley says from behind. “You’re not Savage, and I’m not whoever she was.”

  I scrub a hand through my hair, a sign of just how on edge I am right now because I don’t react physically to anything. A physical reaction is a tell, a weakness that can be spotted and manipulated. Ashley isn’t an enemy, but the moment I become weak, I become emotional, and I can’t protect her.

  I shut the door and turn to face her, feeling the punch of her presence in a way I never feel anyone but her. She’s beautiful, her long hair a mussed-up mess around her heart-shaped face and shoulders, but somehow, it works for her. We’ve barely slept, barely had time to breathe, and she keeps fighting. She never gives up. These are all reasons I fell in love with her, but just because I love her and she can survive in my world, doesn’t mean she deserves the hell of it.

  Right now, in this moment, I live what I have almost every day I’ve known Ashley. I know I should walk away, save her, and get the hell out of her life, and yet, I don’t. I can’t. “I’m going to go talk to Savage.” I turn and reach for the door.

  “Don’t you even think about walking out of this room,” she orders.

  I pause with my hand on the knob, and she adds, “The first thing you do when this feels hard is walk away. And here you are again. Leaving.”

  Clenching my jaw, I rotate and face her. “Talking to Savage is not running.”

  “But your reasons for going to talk to Savage right now are. He freaked you out. He made you question your decisions with me. He made you question our future the way you did back at the cabin. I can’t do this that way. I won’t.”

  That gets me. I cross to stand in front of her. “You won’t do what?”

  “I have nothing in my life but you now. I’m trusting you. If you plan to take the one thing I know, that I have left in us away, just say it. Leave me with Savage and Smith because my safety is my decision, my choice.”

  My hand slides under her hair and settles on her neck. “I will not trust anyone else to protect you.”

  “Savage got to you. He got to you over a pizza. I think you’re too close to this. And even if you’re not—”

  “I can protect you better than anyone else,” I assure her.

  “Even if you’re not too close to this,” she repeats as if I haven’t spoken, “I don’t want to ride these emotional ups and downs with you. In or out. If you don’t know the answer, it’s out. It’s all the way out.”

  “You aren’t going to push me away.”

  “I’m supposed to wait for you to walk away?”

  “I told you—”

  “What? That you wouldn’t walk away again?” she challenges. “Why don’t you just admit that’s what you were doing by walking out of the bedroom?”

  “Fuck, woman.” I cup her head. “You didn’t see the look in Savage’s eyes. She, whoever she was, must be dead. I cannot be the reason you end up dead.”

  “You’re retiring.”

  “Not yet. Not until this is over, and I will always have lingering enemies.”

  She shoves against me. “Let me go.”

  “I will not—”

  “Let me go or I swear I’ll start screaming.”

  “Don’t do this. Damn it, woman. Don’t—”

  “I’m done,” she blasts at me. “I wish you would have just stayed gone. Why come back? To save me? To feel better about getting personal?” She punches my arm.

  I catch her shoulders. “Stop. Listen to me.”

  “I don’t need to hear all of your reasons for leaving. I just need you to go ahead and do it. Again.”

  “If I felt no guilt, why would you want me? You don’t get it. I wasn’t even sure I was capable of these damn emotions until you. I wasn’t sure I was human anymore. I used people. I killed people. And I moved on. That me, the one before I met you, wouldn’t feel anything.”

  “It seems to me that you’re using me now to ensure you don’t feel guilt. How does that make you a changed man?”

  “Maybe that’s the problem,” I say, tangling my fingers in her hair. “No matter what guilt I feel, I’m not going to walk away. I’m just too damn cold and selfish. You’re mine. I decided that a long time ago.”

  “I don’t know how to deal with this yo-yo,” she whispers. “I can’t Noah. Aaron. Whoever you are.”

  “The man who loves you. The man who wants to marry you.”

  “Who is always one step away from walking out on me, on us.”

  “I don’t know how to prove to you that that’s not true besides time. In time, if you’ll give me that time, you’ll know. You’ll see. Will you give me that time, Ashley?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ashley…

  Houston, the past…

  I hang up yet another call with yet another news organization about my boss’ new case, and it’s pretty clear that this is going to be a zoo. Cole exits his office and runs a hand through his dark brown hair. “A hell of a day. Why are you still here?”

  I rotate my chair to face him. “You know why. This case is getting a lot of attention.”

  “Which is why you need to leave while you can. I’m staying, but you don’t need to stay with me.”

  “Okay, but I have a few things we need to cover.” I go over a few messages with him and then ask, “Do you want me to get you dinner?”

  “I want you to go do something exciting. Getting me dinner isn’t it.” He heads into his office, and I sigh. He’s charming, smart, and sweet. I should want him, but there’s no flutter in my belly for Cole. There’s no heat in my belly. He’s so damn good looking, but we have zero chemistry, which is good. He’s my boss. But the man on the street today—Noah—we definitely had chemistry, so much chemistry. That man stirred plenty of heat in my belly. I shove my hair behind my ear with a frustrated swipe of my fingers. Why am I even thinking about this? I have no interest in getting involved with anyone. Alone works for me. Alone is familiar and safe. It fits me like soft, worn slippers. It’s comfortable. Alone is only dangerous when you forget how to wear it with ease. Not that a drink means we’d be in a relationship. This is a silly train of thought. I grab my purse and stand up. I’m going home.

  Alone.

>   A few minutes later, I’m on the city street walking toward my car, contemplating where to order takeout, while fighting a pinch in my chest at the idea. I reach my little Toyota and slide inside the driver’s seat and, decide, once I’ve eaten, I’ll feel better. I turn the ignition, and it won’t start. I try again. “No, no, no,” I murmur, trying yet again. Fifteen minutes later, I sit there in the dark and contemplate who I could call. I have no siblings. My parents are dead. I have friends, but most are married. I have a creepy neighbor, but the creepy thing rules him out. I could call my boss, but he has a trial tomorrow. There is really nothing like a broken down car to drive home the way alone sometimes feels really bad. I hide from that fact most of the time, but not now. I huff out a breath and get out of the car, walking with purpose, because, apparently, I’m going to meet Noah.

  Because, despite all the grand experience and my personal endorsements for its merits, alone doesn’t feel good tonight.

  ***

  Present day…

  Will I give him time to prove to me that he’s not going anywhere?

  My emotions are all over the place. My world is upside down. I loved him. He left. I love him. He might leave again. I think he will leave again. Every time I convince myself that’s not true, I sense that pullback in him. I fear my need for him. “Ashley.”

  At his prod, I say what I feel. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can give you time to prove you’re not going to leave again.”

  “You don’t know?” His jaw clenches, and he releases me, giving me his back before he turns to face me again. “What the fuck does that even mean, Ashley?”

  “In or out,” I say. “I don’t have the luxury of this middle of the road, wait and see crap, Aaron. I don’t feel the ‘all in’ from you and that just doesn’t work for me. So actually, no. No, I’m not giving you the time to prove yourself because you’ve already proven yourself. I need you to just let me go. I can’t be this in love with you and feel this alone. I can’t.”