Page 57 of Her Guardian
“R-really?” she asks, blinking away more tears.
“Yep,” I answer truthfully. “Made it feel like you were with me. Plus, you keep me up to date on all the developments I’m not aware of. I don’t have time to read the fucking news.”
“Okay.” She nods and forces a smile. “If I hurry, I might be able to break the news about what is written on the wall again.”
That’s better. She may not be excited about it, but at least she’s got something to focus on besides me. I won’t be so lucky. I’ll be thinking about this gorgeous woman every second I’m away from her.
I walk Sarah to the side door of Salvalagio, hug her, and make sure she’s safely inside before I return to my SUV.
Leaving her hurts more than I’d like to admit.
But it’s time to get to work.
CHAPTER 22
Sarah
My podcast used to be the only exciting thing in my life.
Especially after Lea’s grandmother died and she became withdrawn for a while.
Now I’m sitting in the middle of my bed with my air pods in, and I have an exclusive that will keep my podcast trending, but I don’t even want to hit the button to go live.
I have to. Mainly because Boyd asked. Because he wants to listen to mylovely voicewhile he prepares to murder a dozen members of the Bratva. I’m supposed to talk about murders, not be the soundtrack for them.
I take a deep breath, load my list of recaps, and hit the button.
“Are you ready for another exciting live edition ofTrue Crime Minutes?” I say excitedly like I always try to do. “I’m your host Sarah Parker and I’ve got another hot exclusive about the MafiaPrince Killer! Let’s just say… in Las Vegas? Sometimes you go Double or Nothing!”
I’m glamourizing murder. Turning someone’s dead son into a sensational headline. I’ve always felt a twinge of guilt about that, but the guilt seems heavier today. Probably because I saw the dead body this time in person. Well, he was under a sheet, but I saw enough for that image to be imprinted on my mind for the rest of my life.
“But first, let’s go through the recaps!” I continue.
The listeners grow and grow as I ramble off my recaps. I’m building momentum for the big story that’s going to be trending on social media as soon as I say it. Not just in the true crime circles now. I’m getting attention from some major media outlets. I’ve even ignored a few requests for interviews on bigger podcasts. They just want to grill me about my sources, so I’m not going to entertain any of them. Especially when I’m the one creatingtheircontent right now.
“And several hours ago, the Mafia Prince Killer struck again! This time, he killed a young man named Miguel Moreno. The Mafia Prince Killer has never moved this fast! But if that wasn’t unusual enough, there’s more…” I pause for dramatic effect.
I don’t give my listeners a chance to catch their breath after revealing what is on the wall. I immediately launch into what I know about the Bratva murder. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to bait people along and keep them listening while I go through everything else. More recaps. Theories. Viewer questions. I’m not in the mood for this podcast, but I make a production out of it.
There’s only one listener I really care about. Big Boyd. He’s immediately on my mind when I’ve distracted myself as long as I can with the podcast and have to end it.
“Be careful, Boyd,” I sigh, reaching for my vape. “Please be careful.”
I’ve seen Boyd in action. I shouldn’t be as worried as I am. He was right—a couple of bullets probably wouldn’t stop him. They might just piss him off even more. But reality is more concerning than bravado. It would only takeonebullet to end his life, if it hit the right spot.
I don’t want to lose him. He’s brought me to a place in my life I never thought I’d be. Last night, I dreamed about having a baby. A boy that looked like an itty-bitty Boyd in my arms. I had a ring on my left hand, too. A beautiful diamond solitaire, and while it was never said, I knew it was from Boyd.
“That dream won’t come true if you get yourself killed, Boyd,” I mutter, taking a few puffs of strawberries and cream. “Maybe it’ll never come true, but…”
I lay my head against the pillow, put my vape on the nightstand, and close my eyes.
I’m not supposed to dream about engagement rings or babies. I’ve been fine on my own. Or I kept telling myself I was. Maybe it’s because Lea’s life is moving forward, and mine isn’t. Maybe it’s because the most incredible man I’ve ever met made mehis.
I’m asleep before the thoughts get too deep.
Then I’m dreaming about Big BoydandLittle Boyd.
I wake up to the sound of my phone. I panic, because I didn’t mean to fall asleep, and scramble to pick it up.
