Page 17 of Billionaire Bodyguard Summer

I revert to my usual prayers to Nicole to please smite my new enemies.

I can’t see Armin, is what it all boils down to. Everybody’s said this to me every which way. It’s prohibited, in all the ways. Not in the hospital, not when he gets out of the hospital. No calls, texts, or greeting cards.

Unless I want to lose my job.

Unless I want to be federally prosecuted.

Right now, I wouldn’t mind either, if it meant I’d be free of this windowless lecture hell.

I keep tabs on his progress through Special Agent Rossi, but it’s not enough.

He didn’t wake up, she said, for the first week. But he did talk in his sleep.

And he said my name.

Well, not myrealname.

When he did come to—

“Hey, are you listening?”

“Yeah,” I lie. “If I go visit any witness or potential witness, it’s a violation of 18 CFR 1512, and I have to resign because of my concealment of prior affiliation with the defendant.”

“I said that about an hour ago. Miss Munro—”

“AgentMunro.”

He blanches. “Not much fucking longer, the way this is going.” The little legal doofus gestures too broadly and knocks his styrofoam cup of coffee over. “Shit.” He picks up the cup but gawks helplessly at the overflow as it pours off the edge of the table and streams onto the government carpet.

I’m immune to threats. I’ve got my resignation in a draft email already.

What I’m not immune to is the fear that I’ll show up at Armin’s hospital and he won’t look at me the way he used to.

My abusive counsel leaves to go find reinforcements to fight the coffee spill so he can resume fighting me. But I’ve had enough. I take the opportunity to flee the room, and I make my way out of this labyrinth of a building.

It’s hot and humid in Washington DC today, though we’re well into September, and the days ought to feel cooler by now. The sun is hidden through a thick layer of clouds that don’t provide any relief. My steps feel lighter the farther I walk away from my employer, and by the time I get to my car, to the SUV Armin bought me after I totaled that other junker, so long ago now, I close myself in.

I feel safe, despite the searing heat inside.

Because it’s a gift from him.

I pull out my work phone, and I send the email.

Then I fish my personal phone out of my purse, and I text him.

I’m on my way.

thirteen

. . .

Armin

It’s beena hell of a month, more for the nurses of Saint Vincent’s than anybody else, I’m ashamed to admit. I’m not the sort of man who takes well to laying in a sick bed.

I try my hand at the hospital steps instead of the ramp, but I regret it. My face flushes hot though it’s a lot cooler out than it was when I first arrived in Sunbreak Harbor. My ribs are jabbing me in a critical part of my lung with every footstep, though the doctor assured me they’re all back in their usual spots.

Then I stop breathing anyway, so it doesn’t matter.