Page 9 of Sniper

“Exactly.” I flashed a grin that only seemed to piss her off more.

***

“I’m not getting on that death trap!” She folded her arms and glared at my bike as if she was personally offended. “Where’s your car? Hell, where ismycar?”

I laughed. “Come on. You’ll love it. Put this on,” I instructed and handed her a helmet.

“Good thing I didn’t do my hair,” she mumbled and put the helmet on her head.

“Look at you, bein’ all optimistic and shit.” I shouldn’t have teased her as I fastened her chin strap, but I couldn’t help it. I told her how to get on, and how to hold herself before I got on the bike in front of her.

“Hang on.” I said before I revved the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

Luckily, she listened and obeyed—exactly what I liked in a woman. Katey held on for dear life at first, but by the time we arrived at The Breakfast Hut, her grip was more relaxed, and her head swiveled as if she was trying to enjoy the view.

“That wasn’t completely terrible,” she said as I parked up.

“High praise.” I nodded for her to follow me inside and we took a seat near the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front.

“Um, shouldn’t we sit someplace less sitting duck-y?” She wore a worried expression as she looked around in search of Ethan. “Or you know, grab some food to go?”

I laughed and shook my head. “Relax Katey.”

Her blue gaze narrowed. “Don’t tell me to relax. What are we doing here?”

We were interrupted by the arrival of our server.

“Hey there, Welcome to The Breakfast Hut, what can I get for ya today?” The smiling woman looked from Katey to me in anticipation.

“I’ll have the Big Bad Breakfast Jam and keep the coffee coming, thanks. For you babe?”

She blinked, then licked her lips. “Um, the breakfast burrito with a side of bacon home fries, please.” Katey was so polite even in the face of the shitstorm she was in, offering the waitress a broad smile. “Oh, an orange juice and I’ll take my coffee on a drip.” As soon the waitress walked away, she turned back to me. “So?”

“So what?”

She studied me and then leaned back in the booth with her arms crossed. “You’re delaying. Why?”

Dammit. “It looks like Ethan has gone off the grid and we need to smoke him out so you can get your life back.” There was no point lying to her. She was strong and she could handle it.

Her eyes darted around the diner searching for signs of danger where there were none. The diner was half-full with mostly familiar faces, too many muttered conversations going on around us. “He’s in hiding?”

I nodded, my expression blank. “You seem to be the thing he wants most Katey.” This was the part of the plan she would hate, but it was necessary, so I kept my tone serious yet reassuring. “So let’s dangle you out there and see if he pops his head up.”

“As bait.” She didn’t say it as a question or use that outraged tone, which meant she understood even if she didn’t like it. There was the faintest hint of humor in her voice, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

I understood it, I really did. “But this bait has protection.” I met her gaze with an unyielding promise. “Best case scenariois he shows up now and I put two bullets in his head and this is all over.” And we could get our marriage annulled before the ink dried on our marriage license.

Katey watched me for a moment longer, her blue eyes missed nothing. Then smiled—a small, tentative thing that didn’t quite reach the depths of her eyes but was enough to show she understood. “You say the sweetest things to me husband,” she teased lightly, her voice softer than it had been since I’d agreed to help Cal.

I found myself laughing. “I try.” It wasn’t just lip service, I meant it. The thought of protecting her from Ethan—and all that followed—was paramount. My role was clear, keep her safe, no matter what.

“So far so good,” she shot back just as our plates arrived. Katey dug in, days of refusing to eat had finally caught up with her, giving me an opportunity to watch her carefully. She was resilient, stronger than she realized. She’d done what she needed to survive, including marrying me and I wouldn’t betray that trust.

I watched her devour her breakfast and placed one of my pancakes onto her plate.

“You don’t have to do that,” she insisted, even as she reached for the maple syrup.

“I know. Eat up.”

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