Bee stumbled into the kitchen behind Adam.
‘Here.’ He handed her a hot mug of coffee. ‘Cream and extra sugar.’
Just the way she liked it.
Bee took a sip and a seat at the island. ‘How long have you been up?’
‘Not long.’ He flipped a pancake in a cast-iron skillet. ‘Thought you might be hungry for real food.’
She nodded and watched him. He seemed at home in a kitchen.
Bee wiped the blush off her cheeks. ‘Where’s Oliver?’
Adam nodded at the glass patio doors, and she swiveled her seat.
‘Oh.’ She caught sight of her son running on the sand with Cassie. ‘She’s frolicking.’
Charlie sat on a patio chair, a cigarette in his mouth, Hogarth in his lap, and watched the two of them play. In fact, a number of his guys had gathered on the patio to watch the scene before them.
‘It’s cute,’ Bee said. ‘She’s cute.’
She was also wearing a teeny tiny purple bikini that made Bee feel ridiculously overdressed, but hey, she wasn’t the one frolicking on the beach. Her beach. This was Cassie’s home now. Even if Bee had helped secure the funding for it. Even if Bee had decorated it, raised a child in it. Charlie’s home with his new girlfriend.
And she was trapped there with them.
For how long?
Malika walked into the kitchen emitting an audible growl. ‘Have you seen this, Bee?’
Bee looked away from her ex’s frolicking girlfriend to find her nanny holding a twenty-pound laptop in her arms.
‘This – this is what they give me. Watch.’ She set it on the counter and opened it up. ‘I have to plug it into the phone line, Bee. The phone line because there’s no Wi-Fi here! It connects to the internet with a modem. Have you heard this? Listen to me! listen!’ Malika mimicked – rather spot on – the screeching sound of a modem connecting to the internet.
Bee laughed. ‘OK, OK, I get it. We’ll have Charlie buy you a new one from the Apple store.’
Malika slammed the laptop closed. ‘Maybe Butterfingers over here should pay for it.’
The plate rattled against the marble countertop when Adam set her stack of pancakes and a hearty serving of bacon before her. Bee turned away from Malika and picked up a knife and fork with a, ‘Thank you,’ directed at Adam.
‘Butterfingers?’ Adam said. ‘I destroyed that thing on purpose.’
Malika’s face twisted into a terrifying glare.
Bee chewed her cheek to keep from laughing again. ‘Did you get a smartphone from Cassie at least?’
‘Yes, thank God. Better than nothing. I was having to hand crank a radio to listen to Britney.’ Malika twisted her hair into a sloppy braid. ‘Well. I’m gonna go upstairs and see if I can get any work done. But I expect to be taken to an Apple store as soon as possible because this is downright inhumane.’
Bee watched her leave and thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get her equipped sooner rather than later. Charlie was his own sinking ship, and Bee had no intention of going down with him. Him and his young, frolicking, kind-hearted girlfriend.
‘Finish up,’ Adam said. ‘You’re gonna need your strength.’
Bee swallowed and stared at him, thoughts of what she’d need her strength with him for filling her mind. Her cheeks warmed again. ‘For what?’
He smiled and even his gum-to-teeth ratio was perfect. ‘I’m gonna teach you how to defend yourself.’
She pushed a bite of pancake around a puddle of syrup with the back of her fork. ‘I think I’ll stick to yoga.’
‘You should know how to defend yourself, Bee.’
‘If I can defend myself, what will I need you for?’
Adam poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and drank it black. ‘I’ll let you teach me how to lift.’
‘Deal!’ She grabbed his hand and shook it so hard coffee splashed over the side of his mug. ‘You can’t go back on it now.’
‘I won’t.’
She ignored the way her hand tingled when he let her go. ‘You’re too easy, you know that?’
His mouth opened in a lopsided grin. ‘No one has ever said that to me before.’
After breakfast, they went to the gym, located in a room downstairs off the hallway from the kitchen. Adam locked them in. And then he grabbed the back of his shirt with his fist and pulled it over his head in one move.
He was shirtless.
They were alone.
She swallowed.
His muscles had been formed from fighting, and formed they were. He was lean. Not someone who would pull a truck by a rope tied around his neck, but someone who could scale the wall of a building and take out a hidden horde of assassins or snipers.
Of course, checking out his well-defined abdomen and biceps would be more fun if he wasn’t standing in a room that smelled like sweaty dudes.
Scars puckered his skin. Slashed along his biceps, mottled over his ribs, crisscrossing his back.
A large, torn circle underneath his collarbone. The last job the two of them had done had started in a café in Ibiza and ended in a hospital. He’d taken a bullet to the chest to save her life and then promptly abandoned her, like she’d never existed, like it was all just a job to him in the first place. The scar beneath his collarbone made her heart feel heavy. The incredible guilt and disbelief at witnessing a man jump in front of a gun for you. Followed by the overwhelming confusion when he’d no longer accept your calls.
Now he was here, in her ex-husband’s home, after saving her life all over again.
Bee tossed off her hoodie and pulled her hair into a messy ponytail. ‘So,’ she said, smiling too big, ‘what’s first, Coach?’
He picked up a small black bag with handles. ‘This is called a melon. We’re gonna hit this and not each other.’
She pouted.
‘Let’s start with something simple. Here.’ He gave her the melon. ‘This is an open hand strike.’ His palm struck the bag with so much force she stepped back.
‘Jeez, Louise!’
He let out a soft chuckle. ‘Sorry. But, see, it’s more than pushing forward with your hand. You have to pivot with your feet. You ready?’
She nodded and braced herself.
He struck the bag again. This time she stayed still.
‘Pivot with your feet. Get your power from your lower half. And hit with the heel of your hand. See?’
‘Yep,’ she lied.
‘Your turn.’ He took the bag and held it up by his head. ‘Go on.’
‘Just don’t want to hurt you,’ she said. And then she struck the bag.
‘Good. Again.’
She hit it harder this time.
‘Again.’
Harder still.
‘Good. Let’s work on a groin kick.’
Her eyebrows shot clear up to her hairline.
‘With the bag,’ he reminded her, failing to hide his grin. ‘The important thing to remember is to kick the bag with the top of your foot. Where your shoelaces would be. Yeah?’
‘Kick the bag,’ she repeated.
‘Yeah.’ He held the bag in front of his groin. ‘Just the bag.’
She kicked the bottom of the bag with the top of her foot as hard as she could.
‘Good! Again.’
She kicked again. And again. And again.
‘Now, you take the sole of your foot and aim for the kneecap.’ He lowered the bag in front of his leg. ‘The kneecap is one of those places that’s really hard to protect. And injuring a knee can slow an attacker down.’
‘Because of the limping?’ Bee guessed.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Because of the limping. Now, kick.’
After she’d tried out the move with both feet, Adam tossed the bag off to the side.
‘OK.’ He rubbed his hand over the top of his not-quite-bald head. ‘Let’s work on what to do if you’ve been grabbed. You can strike and kick when an attacker is approaching. But what do you do if you don’t see them coming in time?’
‘Scream for you?’
‘Yes. But you can escape too. Turn around.’
She frowned so deeply it was almost a glare. ‘OK. But I’m not happy about it.’
He wrapped his arms around her, lifted her off her feet and against his slick chest.
‘So, hold on to my arms,’ he said, his voice almost a whisper in her ear.
She gulped. His arms were damp from sweat, but it didn’t keep her from holding on tight.
‘What you want to do is create an opportunity to use your body as dead weight. Jerk your head back and connect with my nose. Use the heels of your feet – or your high heels – and dig into my shins. Anything to shock me into dropping you. And then grab on to me for all your worth.’
Not wanting to actually hurt him, she rubbed her heels against his shins.
‘Good. So, when I let go, tuck your chin to your chest and fall forward. It’s gonna happen quick. You ready?’
Her ear rubbed against the stubble on his jaw when she nodded. She dug her heels into his shins.
He gave a cry of pain and dropped her.
She didn’t let go of his arms.
Bee tucked her chin to her chest and fell forward. Adam fell over her, bracing himself because he knew it was coming, and pratfell on his face.
She rolled off him and forced herself to smile so big her vision blurred. ‘That was fun!’
He grinned up at her. ‘Yeah, you did good. One more?’
She bit a cuticle.
‘It’ll be easy, OK?’
The spot below her belly button quivered, her entire lower body turning to jello. Tingling, wiggling, useless jello. ‘OK.’
He rolled on to his stomach and did a push up to standing, the veins in his forearms so pronounced that any nurse would clamor to take his blood.
Her heart pounded away in her chest, and she blew out a breath from puffed cheeks.
‘This time you’re gonna see me coming.’ Adam spread his arms wide. ‘When you see me get close, you’re going to duck.’
He approached faster than she expected. She ducked, and his arms closed in over her head.
‘Now, you’re going to spring up, aiming the top of your head for my chin.’
She sprang up. He moved his hands under his chin to block her incoming blow.
‘Good. Now, I go back.’ He winced in pretend pain and stepped back, holding on to his face.
Bee laughed, in a super convincing, not awkward at all way.
‘Grab me by the shoulders and knee me in the stomach.’
She pulled him down by the shoulders and brought her knee up to his stomach as fast as she could without harming him.
‘Ugh!’ he cried. ‘Again.’
She obeyed.
He cried out again, clutching his stomach. ‘Bring your hands together above you and hit me on the back of my head.’
She clasped her hands together above her head and brought them down on the back of his.
He fell to the ground at her feet with a glorious thump.
Bee laughed again, this time sounding more natural, even the slightest bit real.
But when had real ever mattered to them?
He rolled over on to his back and grinned, sweat running down the ridges of his stomach, along the V that disappeared into his shorts.
‘Toss me that towel?’
She grabbed it off the bench press and threw it underhanded. It landed squarely on his nose.
‘Thanks,’ he said behind the rag and wiped the sweat off his brow. ‘You did good, Shelby.’
‘You’d make a great TV wrestler.’ She offered him her hand to help him up. He took it, even though he didn’t need her help. ‘You’re great at exaggerating blows.’
‘That was my dream,’ he said, still holding her hand. ‘As a kid. I wanted to be Hulk Hogan. But I could never get the hair right.’
She giggled, nose crinkling, and laced her fingers through his. His hazel eyes were lined in gold and shining bright.
Her giggle died in her throat. She froze, an open smile on her face, and absolutely no air passing between her lips.
She dropped his hand. ‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘Shower. I have to go shower. Sweaty.’ She wiped her palms on her yoga pants and started walking backward. ‘Better get cleaned up for lunch! What is for lunch by the way?’
‘Sandwiches.’
‘Oh, that sounds delicious! So I’ll see you in— Ow.’ Bee rubbed her shoulder, wincing. ‘There’s a door there.’
He stepped towards her. ‘You OK?’
‘Ha ha, just fine!’ She clutched her throbbing shoulder. ‘Barely felt it. I’ve got another one anyway! See you at lunch!’
Bee didn’t head straight for her room after her lesson with Adam. She snuck into the garage, hands in her pockets, carefree, and took a look at their options. Lots of different entry-level Sedans to choose from. But only two were unlocked. And of those two, only one had a key in the visor. Bee took it with disdain, not for the moron who’d do such a thing, but for her husband for employing such a trusting thug.
Back in her room, Oliver was in the shower, the bathroom door cracked open and his spirited rendition of a Britney Spears song his nanny had taught him filling the space. As quietly as she could, she pulled her go bag from under the bed and gathered up all the cash she had. Seven thousand dollars.
It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. She was getting out of Charlie’s home ASAP. She could hide from Alvarez on her own. Her and her nanny and her son. Maybe Adam. So not really on her own. But hiding out in some Canadian RV park was better than living under her ex’s thumb.
Bee found Malika in the fridge. ‘Psst,’ she whispered – badly.
Malika looked at her, mouth full and cheeks round.
Bee placed both the keys and the cash in Malika’s hands.
‘Go and get whatever you need. We gotta get the hell out of here. I’m not staying here forever.’
Malika swallowed and counted out the money. ‘What? Why? It’s only been a day. And Cassie is so nice, and she smells so good. Why the big rush?’
‘A day? A day? It’s been twenty-six hours – 1,560 minutes in my ex-husband’s home with his good-smelling girlfriend and I can’t go out like this, Malika. I refuse to die here.’ Bee raked her fingers through her hair. ‘I refuse to die here with them! I won’t do it! I won’t!’
Malika popped another grape in her mouth. ‘Jeez, fine. I’ll get to work. Any requests?’
Bee sighed. ‘My own pajamas would be nice.’
Malika shoved the cash in her pockets and rattled the keys. ‘What about Butterfingers? He coming too?’
‘I haven’t decided yet.’
‘OK. Cryptic, but OK. I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t wait up.’