Page 80 of Painted Scars
I lean my head on his shoulder. “What else do I need for battle?”
His sigh suggests he’s been waiting for me to ask. “I’ve got people who can store backups of your digital files, hidden online as insurance. They’ll push your article through encrypted channels and spread it wide. Once people read it, this will be unstoppable.”
That settles that. Next topic. “How will I pay my bills? Clickbait doesn’t sell. I need advertisers.”
He clasps my hand and warms it between his thigh and palm. “Leave it to me. My people will funnel buyers to your book merchandise and move your brand like wildfire. But it must look organic. No ties back to my organization.”
“With what money?” I scoff. “I don’t have much in savings.”
He runs his fingertips along the back of my hands. “On the Romans’ dime. Consider it compensation from Blackthorn.”
“You’re on.” I love Grumpy Daddy’s dark little heart. “What about contingencies in case your people ghost me?”
“Smart.”
I love that he doesn’t fight me on that or try to convince me to put all my faith in him. Trust is earned, not promised.
“How about I move half your income into a company or personal LLC?” His voice switches from warm to clinical. “Low profile and minimal trace.”
His support means everything to me. “I don’t know much about investments.”
“I know a guy who happens to be the best,” Grumpy Daddy says. “They recruited him, he said no. They institutionalized him against his will, and he holds a heavy grudge.” His forefinger comes to my mouth. “And no, you can’t interview him. I won’t let you near him.”
I shimmy my shoulders. “Love it when you get all possessive and protective.”
“Bodyguard trope,” he teases, prodding his elbow into my arm.
I laugh and play with the button on my jacket. “Okay. But I want oversight over the paperwork.” I’m not going to give Grumpy Daddy all control. Certainly not over this.
“Then there’s the matter of personal safety.” Daddy crushes my hand, and I flinch. “Trigger-happy as your friend is, I don’tadvise shooting up any trespassers on your property or who approach you in the street.”
I slouch. “You suck all the fun from life, Grumpy.”
He gives me the sucker punch. “I know a little about the law, and the Romans know how to twist it in their favor.”
I sigh. “Fine. I’ll resort to kicking in the balls and pepper spray.”
He eases his grip and lifts my hand, kissing the back of it with a press to his visor, shooting dull sparks up my arm. “If things get bad, I want you with me or in a safehouse. We can move you around, so they’ll never find you.”
“And Josh?” My voice breaks on his name. “I can’t leave him.”
“He comes. Non-negotiable. Unless you want to leave him with your mother.”
Relief cascades through my sternum. “Thank you.” I tackle the next big obstacle. “What about my mom and friends?”
“They’ll have to disappear with you.” His tone softens. “And that’s a bigger ask.”
My eyes burn at the price I have to pay. I wanted the stalker fantasy minus the political thriller danger. Not saying goodbye to my friends, family, and my whole goddamn life.
“Then we don’t let it get that far.” My voice hardens.
“You’ll need burner phones with encrypted comms.” He shifts back into operative mode like it’s second nature. “Travel bags packed. Cash hidden somewhere they won’t look. Both off-site if they come snooping.”
“God, there’s so much to this.” I rub my eyes.
Grumpy Daddy clasps my chin and forces me to peer into the dark, reflective surface of his helmet. “Glitter Bomb, we do this onmyterms. No solo moves. I vet the source as a backup. I don’t want them planting false sources to discredit you.”
Shit. He really has thought this through.
