Only sleep had been impossible for the last four months.
Since the day Gigi Hastings was whisked into witness protection, he’d barely slept a fucking wink. And the sleep he did get was restless. He’d usually wake up in a cold sweat.
Which didn’t make sense. They weren’t even a couple. Hell, he’d had a two-week fling with her a couple of years ago. They’d ended things when he went on a black-ops mission overseas. Things had been too fresh to make commitments, and when he got back a few months later, she’d been seeing someone else.
Shouldn’t have bugged him.
But it did.
August pinched his eyes. He knew better than to think about Gigi before bed. He’d either end up jerking off or worrying himself into a state of insomnia for hours. Neither would do him any good.
He clicked off the lamp. Darkness met him, but his mind buzzed with activity. He focused on taking deep breaths until his chest rose and fell naturally and his brain slipped into a semiconscious state.
Ring, ring
August sprang up at the sound of his phone. He scrubbed his face, wishing like hell he didn’t have to keep his ringer on while he was away for work. Grabbing the bright device, he squinted at the unfamiliar number. Who the hell was this? Better not be Boyd.
A glance at the hotel clock showed he’d slept for two hours. He swiped to answer. “Hello?” His voice was groggy and hoarse.
“August?” The small, barely-there female tone sent him shooting to his feet. His heart skipped three beats. Disbelief shook him to his core. “Gigi?” he whispered.
Even saying her name felt wrong. As if doing so would endanger her. She shouldn’t be calling him. She shouldn’t be on the phone with anyone. The cartel could be tracing her calls. She could be in danger now.
“Yeah. It’s me.” Her voice tripped on the last word.
His chest seized. It took everything in him not to break. Not to demand she tell him where she was and cross shards of glass and hell itself to get to her.
And damn if that wasn’t as scary as hearing her voice on the phone when she was supposed to be in hiding.
Fuck. He was in trouble already.
CHAPTER 2
August tucked his phone between his ear and shoulder and jammed his legs into pants. His sleep-deprived brain had quickly caught up. If Gigi was calling him in the middle of the night, she was certainly in danger.
“What happened? Where are you?”
He didn’t like the salty taste of fear filling his mouth. Nor did he like the way his heart banged against his ribcage and his hands trembled as he found his keys and shoved them in the pocket of his jeans.
“Um, at a truck-stop diner.” A shuddering breath came next. “They found me. I got away, but Joe, the marshal watching me, he’s... I think he’s dead.”
“I need an exact location.” He yanked a clean shirt over his head.
“I... I don’t know. I’ll ask.”
“No! Christ. Just sit tight. When did this happen?”
“A few hours ago. They came to the house in Wyoming—”
“Don’t say anything else. What kind of phone are you using?”
“Encrypted,” she answered without hesitation. “I had a go-bag packed. This line is secure.” Some strength and vitality injected her voice.
“How far are you from the scene?”
“Like I said, a few hours. I don’t think he followed us, but—”
“Who’s us?” he demanded.