Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 29744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
"His name is Ronan Gallagher," I say, plopping down next to Jessa. "He's my bodyguard. And I'm madly in love with him."
"Uh, clearly!" Gwen cries, shoving a glass of wine into my hand. "You're glowing."
"You are glowing," Jessa agrees, smiling at me.
Gwen prods at the hickey on my neck. "We're going to have to cover that up."
I squeak, slapping a hand over it.
"Girl, please," she says, laughing. "Cyrus is forever leaving them on me."
"Jax does too," Jessa says, rolling her eyes. "I don't know what it is about our military men, but they all seem to share the same caveman tendencies, don't they?"
"Thank you, Uncle Sam," Gwen says.
Jessa raises her glass in a toast, making me giggle.
"You know Ronan was in the military?" I ask, sipping my wine.
"He has that look," Jessa says. "It's the eyes."
Gwen nods. "And the walk. You can always tell by the walk."
"He was a Ranger. He retired last year."
"We should get him together with Jax and Cyrus," Jessa says.
"He'd probably like that," I say quietly. "Um, his whole team was killed overseas two years ago. He was the only survivor. It's been tough for him."
"Damn," Gwen whispers, her expression falling. "We should definitely get them together then. Cyrus struggles with PTSD too. It'll be good for him to have someone to talk to who knows what it's like."
"I didn't know that," I murmur.
"It's not as bad for him now," she says. "But when he first got back a few years ago, it was really tough. We almost didn't make it because of everything he was going through."
I squeeze her arm, grateful they made it. She and Cyrus belong together.
"Speaking of Cyrus," she says, popping back up to her feet. "I better go make sure he's got everything under control out there."
"Oh, I'll go too," Jessa says. "I want to see my baby."
"The makeup artist should be back from her break in like five minutes," Gwen says. "You're the last one. So just hang out and wait. She'll get you taken care of when she gets in here, and then we'll get you dressed. You're walking second so we can get you out of here."
"Thank you."
"Thank you," she says, beaming at me. "You're the one who convinced everyone to help me make this thing happen today. I owe you for life."
"You don't owe me anything."
She blows me a kiss and then she and Jessa head out of the room. I sit back in the makeup chair and close my eyes, smiling. As much as I've enjoyed my bubble with Ronan, it feels good to be doing something normal today.
A few seconds later, the outside door opens.
I pop my eyes open to greet the makeup artist.
"M-mom?" I whisper, staring in shock at the woman standing not even five feet from me.
"Hello, dear," she says as if it hasn't been two years since we last saw each other.
"What are you doing here?"
"Why, I came to get you, of course."
My heart slams against my ribcage, the first inkling of fear rushing through me.
Chapter Ten
Ronan
I pace outside the dressing room, restless and uneasy as fuck. It's too crowded here. Too loud. I don't know if it's the PTSD talking, my worry for Winter, or if it's actually instinct telling me something is wrong, but my skin crawls. My chest feels tight. I want to burst through the fucking door, yank Winter out of there, and tell her that we're leaving. But this is important to her.
I can't drag her away just because I can't handle sharing her. Christ. Is that what this is about? I'm crawling out of my skin because I don't want to share her? Because I'm a jealous, possessive asshole who wants her all to myself?
No. I spent two decades in the military. Most of that time was in the Rangers, working recon. They sent us into every death trap on this planet. We slipped in and moved undetected. Until our last mission, we were virtual ghosts. No one saw us. No one heard us. We moved through occupied territory on damn near every continent behind enemy lines, and never got caught because we trusted our instincts. They never failed us. Even on the last mission, mine didn't fail me.
I knew something was wrong. Something didn't feel right. Something was off. It was the entire reason I stayed behind trying to get a signal on the goddamn radio while the team went ahead. We needed to establish contact because every single one of us felt the same bad energy. I never managed to raise our base. We were too deep into the fucking mountains for that. All I managed to do was overhear a transmission never intended for us. The one that confirmed everything we'd been feeling for two damn days. Something was off.
We weren't moving in silence this time, unseen and unheard. We were being stalked through the mountains, hunted like prey. I was too late to save my team. Despite everything, I couldn't get there fast enough to warn them that they were walking into the middle of a trap laid just for them. I watched as the village exploded, killing every single one of them. By the time I got there, there was nothing I could do for any of them.