Page 117 of The Anchor Holds

I never let my guard down, never stopped expecting him to strike, knowing it wasn’t over. But life with Elliot in Jupiter, andbeing around my family had a way of sucking all of the urgency from me. It promised an idyllic version of life that I’d lingered in for too long.

I swallowed the last of my martini, fighting to keep my composure. Elliot was not going to sense my unease. He couldn’t.

“They’ll be around here somewhere,” I assured him, putting my glass and phone down to untie the sash on the robe I was wearing. “I’m assuming you don’t need glasses to see this.” I gestured down to my naked body.

Rather sad to resort to using sex to distract Elliot from the assassin for the Russian Mob who’s toying with him, but I didn’t know what else to do.

And I was hungry, desperate to suck the marrow of what remained of my life with Elliot.

The life that was already taking its dying breath.

He just didn’t know it yet.

Elliot snatched me by the waist, slamming my naked body into his clothed one. He cradled my cheek then ravished my mouth. “I don’t need glasses to see you.”

Then he got on his knees so he was eye-level with my pussy. I trembled as his hot breath met my already tightened core.

“But I’m going to have to get a closer look right … here.” He spread me apart to expose my clit, leaning forward to lay his lips on it.

My hands tore into his blond curls as I let his mouth drag me away from thoughts of Jasper, thoughts of death. Of endings.

For the moment.

“I’ll do the shrimp and another Bud, sweetheart.”

I looked at the vacationer with the sunburned cheeks and the slight glaze to his eyes, his buddies looking much the same. I’d watched them get louder and more obnoxious with every passing sip.

“You’ll do the shrimp, but I’ll reconsider the Bud if you drop the ‘sweetheart’,” I scowled at him. I wasn’t a waitress; I didn’t need his fucking tips. My man needed an extra set of hands, so I’d offered my own before I even understood what I was signing up for.

The patron looked properly chastised, his friends laughed and berated him.

I waited for him to try to save face by insulting me, my expression daring him to try. But he sheepishly mumbled an apology and broke eye contact.

I shook my head, hiding my smile.

It was my favorite sport, showing men what was underneath misogynistic bravado… Which was nothing much.

As much as my bedside manner and general disposition was not built for any kind of public service job, I was actually having fun playing waitress for the night. Plenty of locals were dining in that night, most of whom not only knew me by name but smiled at me like they weren’t scared of me and actually liked me. Elliot’s and my relationship was common knowledge by then, since I was often working at the bar when he was tending to it, because he was really into public displays of affection and because the town was small, and people were nosy.

Instead of being annoyed by the questions, compliments and general small talk, I … enjoyed it. It was likeInvasion of the Body Snatchers, except I was turning into an almost-pleasant person because of Elliot’s influence.

As I began to walk to the kitchen, a cold breeze kissed the nape of my neck, signaling the approach of fall. For once, I wasn’t longing for summer to end.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

My step stuttered as I froze in place, clutching my notepad and pen, not turning right away.

He’d caught me unaware.

He’d caught me … happy.

Carefree.

As if he’d sensed when I might be at my most vulnerable. That was impossible. Logic dictated that he’d had me watched and had chosen that moment carefully. He’d waited.

Before turning, I took a breath, my mask of indifference in place even if I didn’t have any of my other weaponry. No expensive suit. I dressed up when I was working at the bar, but it would’ve looked comical wearing six inch heels and a designer suit while waiting tables. Plus, it’d hurt the shit out of my feet. I’d gone for jeans and a linen shirt, unbuttoned to show an expensive lace bra. Diamonds, always diamonds. My hair wasn’t in a slicked bun, it was down, wild. Free.

My makeup was much the same as it always was, although I hadn’t slathered on enough foundation to make my face look flawless and porcelain. You could faintly see the freckles on my chin, emerging after days in the sun with Elliot.

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