Page 12 of The True Garza
True frowns as if something just occurred to him. “Wait,Bridge—you’re related?”
“Unfortunately.”
“That clown Charles, too?”
“Brother.”
“Hm. Small world.” He glances down at the folder in front of me. “You all filled in?”
I shrug and look to Sacha. “Am I?”
Sacha nods. “The gist is covered. We need to discuss the plan in detail and approve what you’re comfortable with and what—”
Someone’s phone rings.
True straightens from the table and gets out his cell, glancing down at the screen. “Gotta take this. Finish up without me. Bridge, meet me in the parking lot when you’re done.”
At his command, my pulse quickens and my belly dips with something darkly lustful. A shameful need to obey.
Lonny Bridge is inherently defiant. Rebellious. Everyone who knows me knows this. Order me none too nicely to do something, and I’ll do the complete opposite out of spite.
But, during the time I spent with True, I’d surrendered all control to him. After chasing a serial killer for months and losing an agent, my fiancé, and my father, I was exhausted, drained, withered. And giving up control to him had felt so,sogood.Freeing.
But I’m in a much different place now. Back to my old self—almost. So why’s my body reacting like this to the authoritativeness in his voice?
It doesn’t matter, though. He’s out the door before I can embarrass myself with a submissive response.
For the next fifteen minutes, Sacha and I discuss the plan. But my focus, at this point, is shattered. Like a bobble-head, I’m dumbly nodding to everything, and I know I should be asking questions, but…True Garza. His name is True Garza, and he works at Red Cage. And he’s married. This man that I never thought I’d see again, but deep downhopedI would. This man who had been a bright light when my world was so, so dark.
He was just here. In front of me. Close enough to touch. Caressing me with his eyes. Eyes that I’ve seen droop low with overwhelming pleasure in the throes of passion.
“Are you okay with that?” Sacha is asking.
“Yeah, yeah that’s fine,” I answer absently.
Deep chuckles.
Snapped out of it by that, I narrow my eyes at the men with amused smirks on their faces. “What?”
“You just agreed to shaving your head and getting a skull tattoo.”
“I’m sorry, what? Why on earth would I need to do that?”
Sacha is smiling. He has such a beautiful smile. “You don’t. I just said that to prove you weren’t paying attention.”
“I—”
“Don’t worry,” he says, flipping his folder shut. “I’ve seen it happen to stronger women. We call it the ‘True Effect.’”
There’s a ‘True Effect’? WhichI’mapparently experiencing?
Feeling exposed, I clear my throat. “I’ve no clue what you’re talking about.”
“No worries.” He jerks his chin to my folder. “My contact is in there. You can go over the information. If you have any questions, give me a call at any time.”
“So, we’re done here?”
“For now, yes.”
