Page 67 of August

She dropped her head to his shoulder. “Please, be careful.”

He brushed his lips over her temple. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had said that to him. It’d been years. Before, he’d never clung to the words. But now?

Fuck, now things were different. Now he had someone he didn’t want to let down. Now the only thing worse than him dying was leaving Gigi behind. Not being there to protect her. The idea made worms of worry gnaw at his insides. He wouldn’t do that to her. But he would end this shit. He’d give her back her life if it cost him everything he had.

Catching her neck, he dipped his head and took her mouth in his. Her body relaxed as he slid his tongue between her teeth, tasting her. Her sweet, minty flavor wasn’t just intoxicating. It was familiar. It was for him. It was... home.

Breaking the kiss, he touched his forehead to hers. “I’ll be back tonight, okay? Make dessert because we’re going to have something to celebrate.”

She flashed a smile. “There’ll be plenty for you to eat when you get back. I’m going to make so much food you’ll puke.”

He laughed. “Sounds romantic.” Kissing her on the top of her head because he couldn’t fucking help it, he stood.

She gave him a little wave, and he made his way back to the kitchen. Taschen sat at the island.

“Anything I should know?” his buddy asked.

“Yeah, she’s got a grocery order coming. I checked before you got here and it’ll arrive in a couple hours.”

Taschen saluted him. “Just so you know, I’m fucking thrilled to be sitting this one out.” Sarcasm muddied his words.

August placed his knuckles on the island in front of Taschen. “Look. She doesn’t want to be here either,” he said, his voice low. “And if you make her feel bad because you have to stay here with her, I’m going to knock your fucking head off.”

“All right. Easy, man. Sheesh.” Taschen lifted his palm as if to ward him off.

But Jesus Christ his blood boiled. Taschen was often the clown of the group and aimed to garner laughs, but sometimes he was stupider than usual and didn’t think before he spoke.

“Is she gonna cook?” Interest sparked in Taschen’s eyes. “I haven’t eaten all day.”

August fought the urge to smack his friend on the back of the head. “I hope she feeds you fucking cat food.” He waltzed to the door. “I mean it. Don’t be an ass.”

Taschen folded his arms across his chest, a smirk lighting his eyes. “Never seen you lovesick before. I’m gonna enjoy this.”

“Fuck you,” August mumbled as he swung his bag over his shoulder. “Just do your job and keep her safe.”

Without so much as a wave for the moron, August stepped into the hallway and locked the door behind him. Though Taschen was annoying, August had to concede that he didn’t really lack brain cells. Most days.

Considering the cartel shouldn’t have any clue where Gigi was—and if somehow they found out, the apartment in a high-rise building downtown wasn’t an ideal target—there was no logical reason for the boulder of anxiety pressing on his esophagus.

No logical reason his blood pressure spiked with every foot of distance he put between Gigi and him.

Maybe Taschen was right and he was lovesick. That’d explain the heart palpitations and gut-wrenching worry. Because Gigi was as safe as the Mona Lisa.

Six, seven hours tops and he’d be back in the apartment eating whatever delicious meal she’d made and telling her that Todd had been handed over to the cartel and they could breathe easy.

He stepped into the elevator and punched the button for the ground floor. Christ knew he’d get devilish satisfaction when he saw Todd’s face fall at the sight of him.

August cracked his knuckles as the cart whooshed to the bottom. The door chimed and slid open. He made his way through the lobby, his booted feet clomping over the marble floor. He stepped outside and warm fall air hit his face.

Toth signaled from the front passenger seat. August opened the rear door and climbed into the oversized Tahoe, taking one of the middle seats.

“’Sup,” Rami said from the driver’s seat.

“Took ya long enough,” Ghost said, from the bucket seat next to him.

“Sorry, had to wait for fuckface.”

Toth roared and Rami snorted. Ghost’s stoic expression didn’t change.

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