Page 33 of Beautiful Soldier

A few black-clad bodyguards jog down the wood steps, approaching the car with guns drawn. Johnny turns the interior light on in the car, and they stow their weapons away, coming toward us in earnest now that they know we’re friends and not foes.

A guard wrenches my door open and hauls me to my feet. I step away from him as he does a cursory once-over, injury shopping. I wave him away, and by then, Johnny is beside me, pulling me to him.

The guards take over from there, leading our captive to a barn-like building to the west. I can’t imagine the horrors that await him there as I’m sure they’re way more adept at interrogation.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Johnny says.

The structure in front of us is a beautiful two-story log cabin. It’s so homey looking that the backdrop highlighting all the bodyguards stands out. This could be any family’s weekend cabin. Especially since it’s deep in the woods where no one else is around. I can’t even imagine where the nearest neighbor is.

Johnny leads me up the front stairs to a wrap-around porch. He pulls open a storm door, and I’m greeted with more wood inside, coupled with soft lighting and rustic fixtures. Don’t get me wrong, everything is new, it’s just designed to look old and lived in.

I immediately fall in love with the place. It couldn’t be more different from the tower. Instead of the sterile white and steel, it’s warm and inviting.

“Where are we?”

“Our safe house,” Johnny explains. “We only use it in emergencies, such as when we can’t access the tower.”

I run my hands through my hair, my fingers getting stuck in a rat’s nest. I give up and toss my hair over my shoulders.

“Up here,” Johnny says. He takes my hand, gently holding my fingers. “We’ll get you washed up, so we can see your injuries better.”

“What about you?” I ask, looking him over from head-to-toe. “Did you get hurt?”

He shakes his head. “Mag drew all the fire. I backed him up, trying to pick people off, so you could get away.”

“I tried,” I tell him. “The guy jumped me.”

He pulls open a door at the very end of the hall on the second floor, and we move into what must be the master bedroom. The huge space boasts an enormous bed in the middle of the room. Behind me, Johnny turns the light on and a fan whirs overhead. Beyond the bed, sliding-glass doors lead out onto a back deck.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

“Gorgeous,” I tell him. It’s the perfect place I would’ve conjured up for myself when I just want to get away. To escape somewhere where no one knew me.

After a moment, he pulls me in the opposite direction. The harsh light of the bathroom illuminates a modern bathroom that somehow goes with all the other rustic design elements. Johnny drops my hand and moves to a whirlpool tub that looks big enough to fit three people. He turns the faucet on, checking the temperature, before turning toward me.

“I’ll grab you some clothes,” he says. “And I have to make a few calls, but I’ll be right here if you need me.”

I nod, and he moves forward, pressing a chaste kiss to my forehead. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

I wind my arms around his waist, dropping my head to kiss the top of his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay,” I say over his skin.

“One of these days, I’m going to tell you that you don’t have to worry about anything and mean it.”

I close my eyes, wondering when that day comes, what that point in time might look like? I can only hope it doesn’t include people trying to kill us but does include three other gorgeous men.

That’s what I would call perfection.

13

After lingering in the tub, scrubbing down from head to toe until all the dirt and grime has disappeared and my hair is finally untangled, I find a towel on the edge of the tub, wrap it around my body, and emerge from the water.

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve taken a bath, and I have to admit it was relaxing and perfect.

I pad out to the master bedroom and find a stack of clothes on the bed. They’re just joggers and a plain shirt, so I pull them on even though they’re a couple of sizes too big. I cinch the ties around the waist and roll up the hem, so the pant legs aren’t dragging over the floor as I walk.

Sticking my head out the door, I listen for Johnny. He said he had to make a few phone calls, but he never came back.

I retreat down the stairs, but no one is in the house. It’s empty. The ticking of the second hand on the clock above the living room mantle sends shivers up my spine. I hug my arms to myself as I peer out the front door. The lights are on in the barn where Mag took our captive. The functional part of my brain warns me that I won’t like what I see in there, but the dysfunctional part of my brain tells me it doesn’t matter. I’m just as deeply involved as the rest of these guys, and I don’t believe for one second it’s a coincidence that the moment Johnny gets back from Chicago, someone tries to blow up the tower.

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