Lovers Like Us_Billionaires & Bodyguards by Krista Ritchie & Becca Ritchie

Author:Krista Ritchie & Becca Ritchie [Ritchie, Krista & Ritchie, Becca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: K.B. Ritchie
Published: 2017-10-30T18:30:00+00:00

23

FARROW KEENE

I CONSIDER MYSELF ABNORMALLY FEARLESS, not a lot has ever rattled me, but a nightmare just kicked my ass awake. I’m caked in sweat, drawstring pants and black shirt suctioned to my body, and I open a cupboard on the dead-quiet tour bus.

Ripped Fuel is what I need, and the jug lies sideways on the shelf. A sticky note is attached. In guess-whose handwriting: do not take more than 3 a day.

I’d roll my eyes at Thatcher’s unnecessary instructions, but that takes energy on him that I don’t even want to use.

I twist off the cap while simultaneously plugging a cord in my phone. I fit earbuds in my ears, and then shake two pills in my palm. The fat-burning supplement contains ephedrine and caffeine, an easy trick to stay awake.

Because I’m not going back to sleep after that mind-fuck.

It’s 2:42 a.m. and the bus is parked at a Kentucky campground for approximately three-point-two more hours. We all agreed on a pit stop to let the drivers recharge for the next leg of the tour.

I’m a driver, and I can see the irony as I leave my bunk behind and unlock the bus doors. Clearly not sleeping.

My boots hit the dirt, a fire pit charred and extinguished. A full moon illuminates the mossy campground, only one other RV in sight. Trees rustle in a gust of wind, and the winter breeze cools me off.

I scuff a stone and shuffle through my phone’s music. Nine Inch Nails. Play. Bass blasts in my eardrums, and the first song doesn’t end before the bus doors creak open.

I overturn a large rock with my boot. Watching Maximoff step onto the earth like he’s mentally and physically prepared for any hell.

Lips lifting, I pop an earbud out. “Miss me already?”

He glares at the night sky. “God, spare me.”

I almost laugh. “Dramatic and infatuated with me.” My smile grows but then slowly fades as seriousness hardens his forest-greens.

He stretches his arms over his chest. “You woke up in a cold sweat.”

See, I tried not to jostle him, but we slept in the same bunk. A confined single-bed. Our legs were intertwined. My jaw was on his chest. I was more surprised that he didn’t bolt upright instantly when I left.

“Bad dream,” I tell him and then study his shoulder as he rotates his arms. He’s not flinching or wincing. It’s healed better than I initially thought. Good.

I’m hoping he never needs a doctor again. Because he no longer has my father. That fucking asshole…

“What was the dream?” Maximoff crosses the campground, opening and closing his switchblade absentmindedly.

I comb a hand through my hair. “You were drowning.” And I couldn’t save you. I breathe hot breath through my nose and rest my boot on a log bench.

Maximoff clicks his switchblade closed. Standing stoically, he reminds me of an unshakable marble statue again. A man who refuses to let anyone or anything topple him. At least not without putting up a hell of a fight.

And I’m not surprised when he tells me, “That would never fucking happen.

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