Dirty Rich Secrets: Part Two

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “And bring attention to us we don’t need?” Aaron counters. “No, thank you.”

  “Blake Walker, my boss, is a world-class hacker,” Adam says. “Even governments come to him for help. Everyone comes to him. He can go unnoticed. Give me something, anything, we can help with to prove we’re trustworthy.”

  “We’ll think about it,” Aaron states. “Right now, we’re walking out of here, and you don’t want to try to stop us. You might as well not follow us. That won’t go well.”

  Smith eyes Adam, and the two men share a look before they slowly step back and leave us a path to exit. Aaron links his fingers with mine, and we start walking, and just when I think we’ll keep walking, Aaron stops next to Adam and says something to him I can’t make out. I don’t catch Adam’s reply if there is one. Smith and I are staring at each other, and he’s tormented. I see that in his eyes. He does care about me. He does. We did have chemistry, but he wasn’t “the one” for me. I wasn’t “the one” for him. But I know he’s honest. I know he won’t betray me. I just hope his need to protect me doesn’t make him do something stupid.

  “Don’t,” I whisper, hoping he understands. Don’t push. Don’t fight Aaron.

  He doesn’t get a chance to reply. Aaron sets us in motion; we’re moving again, and in a blink, we’re outside of the bagel shop and inside the subway on the other side of the glass door. We weave in and out of the crowd, and my skin prickles with the sense of being watched. Aaron doesn’t guide us to the tracks. We go street side, and the path we travel is wild, fast, and stealthy. It’s a good hour before he pulls me into an alcove next to a church, and he stares down at me.

  “I can’t lose you, either. I won’t. Do you understand?” I do. He’s telling me Smith can’t make the wrong move, or he’ll end up dead. I should fear that message, but I don’t. Aaron’s mouth closes down on mine, and I sink into the kiss, into the desperation I taste on his tongue. He really was afraid he’d have to hurt Smith to get me out of there. He was even more afraid he’d lose me, and I believe the reasons are many and complicated. We’re complicated, but we’re together, finally, back together.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ashley…

  The air is chilly, but he is hot, both in body, passion, and temper. So very hot.

  Aaron tears his mouth from mine, the passion and need between us palpable. “I didn’t like that man looking at you and touching you.” His voice is low, guttural, with a lethal quality to it that declares those words a threat but not to me. To Smith.

  “He’s worried about me.”

  “He’s a man who wants to fuck you. There is no other definition for who he is to you, not after the stunt he just pulled. That affects how a man thinks, which he just proved. It affects what he does. It affected what he did.”

  “He is a good man,” I say, because denying the truth, that Smith and I had a connection, that Smith still feels it, is a lie, and I can’t take any more lies. “He was conditioned to distrust you. He needs a chance to come around. He’s just trying to protect me.”

  “Don’t defend him right now, Ashley. That’s not in his best interest.”

  “Because you’re going to kill him?” I challenge.

  “I won’t rule it out. Does that scare you? Do you want me to take you back to him? Do you now trust him more than you do me?”

  “Stop it,” I say, balling his shirt in my hand. “Stop it now. You know I don’t want him.”

  “Do I? You fucking wanted to run to him the minute we had trouble.”

  “Because we need someone to trust.”

  “And I’m not him, right?”

  “Stop it,” I order again.

  “I’m just speaking the truth, and that’s what you want, right? No more lies. I can comply. I don’t have the agency to force me to lie anymore. Let’s go.” He laces his fingers with mine and eases out of the alcove to scan the walkway. I want to pull him back and confront him. I want to fight, but that isn’t exactly the smartest thing to do while we’re in survival mode, so I keep my mouth shut. We can deal with this when we’re secure and alone, though, I don’t know when the word ‘secure’ will ever become real for us again, if ever. Is that even possible?

  For now, Aaron leads me back onto the crowded sidewalk, and I push aside the war between us, taking in my surroundings, practicing the skills he’s given me, he’s teaching me to protect myself. I scan. I inspect. I observe, and I wonder if the Walker team is somewhere out there where we can’t see them, but I don’t think that’s possible. Aaron is one of the few people who can defeat their level of skill, but his skills and theirs combined give us a chance, maybe our only chance, of surviving. I have to get us past what happened today.

  We enter the subway again, and when we’re finally on a train, standing at a stabilizing bar, he pulls me close, his hand on my hip, leg pressed to mine, his touch burning possessively, his eyes burning with anger. I’m angry, too. I am, but the way he’s touching me, the way he clearly needs and wants me, hits all the right spots to calm my mood. I thought he didn’t care. I thought he left to never come back, but he’s here. He cares. I love this man. I love him so much. He loves me, too, or he wouldn’t be here, trying to give me my life back, trying to create freedom for us to be together.

  My hand settles on his chest, but he doesn’t touch me. He just stares at me, anger radiating off him. I might have calmed down, but he hasn’t. And he doesn’t. He holds onto me, keeps me close, but through three more trains and a good mile of walking, he never comes down. Finally, we enter our hotel, and it’s more of the same. He’s silent. I’m silent. He holds onto me in the elevator and presses me into the corner, his hands on the wall by my head, his eyes glinting. Now I’m angry all over again. He just won’t ease up, and it’s pushing my buttons. Tension expands between us on the elevator ride up to our floor, the anticipation of our explosion to follow.

  The doors open with a ding, and he pushes off the wall. This time, we don’t touch. We exit the car and walk toward our door. The minute he swipes the door unlocked, I open it and enter the room, whirling around to wait on him. He enters, shuts us inside, and flips the lock into place. He turns to face me. “I get angrier every time I think of you shoved against the wall with Smith pressed against you. Did you fuck him?”

  “I’ve answered that question. No. I didn’t fuck him. I don’t want to fuck him, but right now, you’re making me so damn angry, I don’t want to fuck you either.”

  He’s in front of me in an instant, shackling my arm and pulling me to him. “Maybe that’s because you’re thinking of him.”

  “Stop.”

  “Not yet. I’m not even close to done. I lived months fearing for you, wanting you. I touched no other woman. I wanted no other woman. I didn’t leave you by choice. I would never leave you by choice, and yet, you didn’t know that.”

  “I didn’t know that?” I open my mouth to explain to him how insane that statement is, but a sudden thought has me clamping my lips shut.

  He’s testing me, pushing me, living the same kind of hell I have in different ways. If he’s innocent of the charges against him, and I believe that he is, then he’s been betrayed and hurt. He’s lived with knowing that I was gone, that I was being told what a bastard he was and is, and yet, he stayed away to protect me until that no longer protected me. I get what he feels. I thought he betrayed me. I thought he left me.

  He needs me to do exactly what I needed him to do when I was lost and alone. Show up. Be present. Claim me. So, I claim him. I press my lips to his, sliding my tongue past his lips and aching when he doesn’t respond, until he does. Until he’s kissing me passionately, so damn passionately, and I kiss him back. I kiss him with all I am, and when our lips part, I say, “This is where I want to be, right here with you, the man I love.”

  He pulls back, searching my face with his burning hot stare, his hand scorching my waist. “And you’re the woman I love and that love is why I’m here, why I met with Smith. I don’t want you on the
run like this. I want more for you and for us.”

  “Then we have to let them help.”

  “We don’t have to let them do anything.”

  My heart lurches. “Are you saying we’re walking away?”

  “I haven’t decided.”

  “You haven’t decided? What about me? What about us?”

  “I’m protecting you and us.”

  “Protecting me? Or making a decision based on emotions? You hate Smith for the wrong reasons. Are those the reasons you have to think about?”

  His jaw tenses, and suddenly, he releases me, walking to the window, yanking it open and presenting me with his back. “Don’t shut me out, Aaron. Don’t—”

  “Get your things,” he says, turning to face me. “We need to leave now.”

  I have no idea what just happened, but something set him off, and the urgency in his voice tells me not to ask questions. Not now. Now, we need to leave before we end up dead.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Ashley…

  Aaron and I shove our belongings into two small bags, and we’re on the street walking in a matter of minutes. “What happened back there?” I ask as we cut down a side street.

  “Someone had been in our room.”

  My heart that’s already racing skips a beat. “How did you know?”

  “A glass was moved a few inches.”

  A glass was moved a few inches. I don’t even know what to say to that. He notices when a glass is moved? I need to notice when a glass is moved. What kind of life is that to lead? And yet, that has always been his life. I wonder for the first time what that must be like. I wonder if he loves it or hates it. I wonder what he really wanted in life when this all began for him and if this is where he thought he’d end up. By the time we’re on a subway car facing each other, our hands stacked on a pole, legs twined, I’m searching his face. I’m thinking about the way he was hunted by a cartel after taking down someone inside that cartel. He didn’t want this. It came to him. It happened. He accepted it and thrived inside this life. I have two choices: quit or thrive. I’m with him. I’m going to make sure I thrive.

  His brow knits and he leans in close. “What are you thinking?”

  “That I’m not afraid. I’m angry. I’m challenged. But, I want to survive. I want us to survive.”

  Surprise followed by admiration flickers in his eyes. “We’ll do more than survive. We’ll win.”

  Win.

  It’s a good word. It promises good things. What those good things look like, though, I don’t know. I don’t let my mind define a fantasy world or life. I don’t let my mind ask questions. There’s only one win for me, and that’s with him.

  Aaron strokes my hair, his eyes soft. The car halts and we end up alone: the only ones in the train and this is a relief to me. Alone is safe.

  “Can we talk?” I whisper.

  He gives a negative shake of his head. He doesn’t trust any public location. He’s afraid of being recorded. I don’t see how that’s possible, not if we were targeted. I suppose if there’s an existing device in the car, it could be tapped, and we could be listened in on.

  “But we can do this,” he says, and before I know his intent, his hand is on the back of my head, his fingers tangled into my hair, and he’s kissing me. A deep, possessive kiss that still tastes of his anger back there in the bagel shop with Smith and Adam. He didn’t like the way Smith touched me. He didn’t like the way Smith tried to claim me, but it wasn’t how he saw it. Smith couldn’t claim me. I’m already his, and I was from the moment we met. I want him to know this. I want to kiss him deep enough and passionate enough for him to know this, but already his mouth parts from mine.

  “Aaron,” I say, grabbing at his shirt.

  “Later. Later, we’ll be alone and safe.” He strokes my hair, and then his fingers are laced with mine, bags back in our hands. We exit the car, heading through the subway.

  For the next few hours, this continues until we sit down at the back of a diner side by side in a booth, our view of the front door clear. The back door is through a hallway just behind us. Aaron pulls out two MacBooks, giving me one of them.

  “Who do you think found us?” I ask, before I ask about our plans for anything going forward.

  “It could be Walker checking me out.” He hands me a phone. “Call Smith and find out. Don’t talk to him any longer than two minutes. We’ll call him back once I know what we’re dealing with.”

  “What if it wasn’t him?”

  “Call him,” he says. “I need to know.”

  “What if he lies?” I ask.

  “Then he can’t be trusted. We shouldn’t be dealing with him at all.”

  I purse my lips and pick up the phone. “I trust him.”

  “Then make sure he’s straight with you because I don’t trust him.”

  “I know,” I say, and I only grow more determined to prove that’s a wrong decision. We need help. We have help, though Smith admittedly did a crap job of proving that to Aaron today.

  I dial Smith. He answers on the first ring. “Ashley?”

  “Yes. Did you have someone search our hotel room?”

  “What? No. I didn’t know where you were. Shit. You’re in trouble. Get out. We’ll protect you. Come here—”

  Aaron takes the phone. “Listen to me. Your people could end up dead, too, if the people after me think you can hurt them. I’m taking us off-grid. You need to stay off-grid as well. I’ll be in touch.” He glances at me. “We’ll be in touch.” He hangs up and sets the phone down, taking it apart and then submerging it in a glass of water.

  “You believe him, right?” I ask. “You know it wasn’t him.”

  “I heard the conversation. I believe him, or I wouldn’t have taken the phone.”

  “The CIA found us,” I say, my stomach knotting.

  “Our enemies found us,” he replies. “Does that mean the CIA? Yet to be determined.”

  “Now what?”

  “We find an Airbnb and stay there.” He hands me two IDs. “Mr. and Mrs. Samroy. It’s not a common name. Common names get attention. Find a place to stay that takes dogs. We’re going to get a dog. No one expects that. We’ll go to the shelter tomorrow.” He sets one of the phones next to me and slides a piece of paper with the number on it beside me.

  “Only if we’re keeping the dog. I’m not adopting one and then deserting it.”

  He gives a shake of his head. “We can’t keep the dog.”

  “Then we have to pretend to have a dog. I’m not doing that to a dog. End of discussion.”

  “Ashley—”

  “No. No. No.” I open the computer and start searching for a place. “What flavor? Nice? Elegant? Ghetto?”

  “We want a place where neighbors won’t be able to watch us. If possible, something with security.”

  “A standalone,” I say. “Got it. Price?”

  “Whatever it takes.”

  “Isn’t big money attention grabbing?”

  “Find options. I’ll decide.”

  “All right,” I say, getting to work. I’m efficient. I’m resourceful. Things that were always a value to my boss in my legal profession as was my attention to detail. I type in the search as he powers up as well, and we work side by side. I don’t know what he’s doing. Yes, I do. He’s trying to keep us alive because our future is uncertain. That shakes me a bit, and I press my fingers to my temple. Bad people are after us.

  “Hey,” he says, turning to me, taking my face into his big, strong hands. He tilts my gaze to his. “We’re going to win, remember?”

  “Yes. I know. I just—I wish I knew how to fight a little bigger and a little better.”

  “You’re what makes me fight a little bigger and a little better. A lot fucking better. They aren’t going to end me because I have you. Because I have you to live for now, Ashley, and you have me, which is why I’m going to teach you to be the biggest badass bitch ever.”

  I laugh. “The biggest badass bitch?”
>
  “That’s right. You’ll hurt any man who tries to hurt you unless I kill them first, and mark my word, I will kill for you, Ashley.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Ashley…

  His promise to kill for me, spoken as if it’s a declaration of love and devotion, hits me as all kinds of wrong. Like killing for me is a badge of honor, as good as the ring that I no longer wear on my hand. Perhaps it is in some ways. He’d kill for me. He’d die for me. Perhaps that’s the highest level of devotion possible, but there’s a weird knot in my belly, a queasy, horrible knot that expands and shifts until I feel as if I’m being trapped in a cage.

  “I know you’ll kill for me,” I say, grasping Aaron’s hand where it rests on my face. He’s big and strong. He’s the man I love, and yet, the next statement still comes out almost as an accusation. “You’ve already proven that. And I’m both comforted and tormented by that fact. Comforted and tormented by the fact that you’re both my Noah and a killer named Aaron.”

  He pulls back to look at me. “A killer named Aaron? Is that who I am to you now?”

  “That’s who you are. That’s who you’ve always been, and some part of me knew it. Some part of me always knew. Obviously, some part of me was always okay with it, too. So, you want to train me to be a killer? Train me. I want to live.”

  He inhales, his broad chest expanding on that held breath, his gaze cutting to the door where it remains for long seconds. Too many seconds and I scan the area, starting to fear a problem he sees that I’ve ignored. I find an old man chatting with a waitress, his gray hair slicked back. His belly is big. Beyond those two people, we’re alone in the dining area.

  “Do you know how easily a man can age himself with a wig, makeup, and a bodysuit?” Aaron finally asks, casting me a sideways glance. “And do you know how many old men are perfect shots? How many young girls dressed as waitresses are as well?”

  I swallow hard. “You’re telling me that I dismissed one or both of them too quickly?” My hand slides to my purse, to my weapon, tension radiating down my spine.