Liberty Begins (The Liberty Series) by Leigh James Page B

instead: who is the asset John’s after? I still didn’t know, and I didn’t know how I was supposed to help. If we did catch someone, would he become a prisoner like Darius? What on earth would happen then?
    The other thing that was nagging me was my life back in Las Vegas, my job, my apartment. John had said that Cruz had agreed to me taking a leave of absence, but for how long? How long was this going to take? John had said that he would take care of my financial issues, my rent. For once, I trusted someone to follow through. Not only did he clearly have the means to pay my rent, but he was meticulous and alert. In my gut, I knew he wouldn’t let my financial well-being slip through the cracks. I knew he would take care of me.
    I’d never had that before, and it frightened me. So instead of being appropriatelyscared of John spying on me, or kidnapping someone, I was petrified of trusting, havingfaith, depending on him.
    This is what brought me to my most nagging question, the real ball in play here, the one I needed to keep my eye on. I shaved my legs while I contemplated it, happy for the privacy, for the hot shower, for the chance to think clearly. I wanted John. I couldn’t lie to myself: it was automatic, it was innate; it was completely out of my control. He was out of my league and I knew it, but I couldn’t help myself. And at some point, he was gonna get tired of me, find someone prettier than me and younger than me, like Tracey said.
    ButI missed him right now. It didn’t make any sense, but I needed to be near him.
    So the question was: What was going to happen? If we were on an assignment, what happened when the assignment was fulfilled? I couldn’t imagine myself going back to the Treasure Chest and my infested apartment, checking for bed bugs every night, alone again. Because now I would have another hole in my heart, even bigger than the first; I wasn’t sure I could take it.
    Just don’t think about it, I told myself. It’s been two days. I took a deep breath and turned off the shower. And I hoped whoever had hired John had told him that I needed a blow-dryer with a diffuser for my hair.

    I was in bed, in the gorgeous blush-pink tank top and pajama bottoms that someone had bought for me, when John came back. The small digital clock on my nightstand said it was just six o’clock, but it felt like midnight to me.
    “Hi,” John said, and sat down gently on my bed.
    “Hi,” I said, nervously. My stomach fluttered at his proximity. “How was your meeting?”
    “Productive,” he said. “How was your shower?”
    “Excellent,” I said. “I have the best smelling hair in the whole world.”
    He leaned down and inhaled. “Yes, yes you do.” He smiled at me. “I’m glad you’re comfortable, but you need to eat. We have a big day tomorrow.”
    “I don’t think I have the energy to go up to the big house tonight and see everyone at dinner,” I said, and it was true. And I didn’t have the nerve or energy to meet his father tonight — it’d been a long day. My talk with myself had made me weary. I knew where I stood now, and I knew I could face it all tomorrow, in the gentle light of morning, but tonight it was just too much.
    “I figured as much,” John said, kindly. “I took the liberty ,” John said, pausing for comedic effect, “of having your dinner sent down here.” He went to the door, opened it, and wheeled in a cart. On it was a chicken caesar salad, a steaming bowl of macaroni and cheese, a dark chocolate brownie, a bottle of water and a large glass of white wine. I love you , I thought.
    “Thank you,” I whispered.
    “Can I come back later?” John asked me, huskily.
    My heart started to race. “Of course,” I said, and beamed at him.
    “Lock the door,” he commanded, kissing me quickly and leaving my side. “I’ll knock, but check before you let me in.”
    “Yes, sir,” I said, smiling.
    “It’s so much more fun when it’s you saying that,” he said.