Page 17 of Romancing His Heart
At the sound of her voice, I mime a karate chop while jumping out of bed. The sound of breaking dishes and metal hitting the floor moments later has my pulse in overdrive even as my brain catalogs everything around us.Goddamnit.
In the span of two seconds, I’ve gone from prone to the offensive. My target once again, it seems, is Red, who is standing inches from me, white as a ghost.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I place my hands on her upper arms. When she flinches, I quickly hold my hands up, palms out in surrender. “Sloane? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
Biting her bottom lip that I can see is trembling, she shakes her head no before answering verbally, “I’m fine.”
A quick nod of my head and I turn in place. “Fuck.”
“It’s okay, really. Just, why don’t you … Ah, get back in bed. You don’t have any shoes on, and there’s glass everywhere.”
Glancing at the floor, I realize I’m still in my boxer briefs and nothing else.Isn’t this my house? Don’t I own some damn clothes?“Red—”
“Come on, let’s get you back in bed before you cut your feet.”
Before I can argue, Sloane is tiptoeing through the room and guiding me back to the bed like a toddler.What the hell happened? Did I fall asleep?
“Emory said you’ll likely be in and out of sleep for a while as your body catches up,” Red informs me, once again answering my silent questions. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have startled you like that.”
“This isn’t your fault, Red.”
A broken smile hits her face and sucks all the air from my lungs. “Oh, Loki. It’s always my fault.” She says it in jest, but I can feel the weight of her words. “Come on, hop in, and I’ll go grab you more dinner. Super sticky, just for you.” She winks, but her eyes aren’t smiling.
I’m not sure what to say to that. I don’t know her, but her words sit heavy in my gut, regardless. While I’m contemplating my next move, she slips from the room, and I’m sucked back in time.
“We’d like you to consider entering the Nightingales.”
I flip-flop between Mr. W and Special Agent Anderson.
“He’s fifteen years old,” Mrs. W interrupts.
“We understand, but surely you know his IQ puts him well above his peers,” the female agent asserts.
“Maybe intellectually, but he is still a fifteen-year-old boy,” Mrs. W says with all the authority she can muster.
“Sylvie,” Mr. W sighs gently, “let’s just hear them out, okay?”
“Clint. He’s just a child,” she repeats, her lip trembling.
“A child that will have adult decisions to make. Decisions we need to be equipped to help him make.” Turning to me, Mr. W places a hand on my shoulder. “Loki, this is just information. We’ll decide what to do with it together, okay? Nothing needs to be decided tonight, or tomorrow, or even next year. These are just options. One option out of the millions you have ahead of you.”
I’m interrupted from the odd memory by the sound of the doorbell. Everything in my body wants to scream at Sloane not to answer, but rationally, I know we’re safe here. I made sure I locked this building down when I bought the place. Security went into overdrive when I left for my last mission.My reactions aren’t in line with reality.That realization has me scared in a way I haven’t been since I was fifteen. Unfocused minds lead to unstable situations.
I sit up in bed and hear whispers of a conversation coming from the entryway, but I can’t make out words or recognize voices.
“Just give me a minute to make sure he’s awake, okay?” I hear Sloane say as she enters the room with a broom and dustpan.
“Who’s here?”
“Sylvie.”
“I thought I was on lockdown?” I grin. I know very well no one says no to Sylvie Westbrook.
“Well, it’s Sylvie Westbrook. Are you going to tell her no?”
“Fuck no.”
“Loki Kane,” Sylvie admonishes from the depths of the apartment.
