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“Someone’s mowing our lawn.”
I frown down at him. “Who?”
“Some guy.”
Some guy.
My eyes go wide, and I skirt around him.
“Don’t come outside, okay?”
“Why? It’s just some guy,” he says behind me as I push through the front door, and sure enough, there’s Carson in a black freaking tank that shows off all his muscles and ink and makes me bite my lip and my body wake up in ways that it hasn’t in a really long time, and when he sees me, he cuts the mower and pushes his sunglasses up on his head.
Jesus, he’s scarier than he used to be.
But I know that he’d never hurt me.
“You don’t have to do this.”
He frowns and looks around. “It needed to be mowed, so I’m mowing it.”
I shake my head. “But you don’t have to. I can do it.”
“Now you don’t have to. I’ll hire a company to do it from now on.”
“Carson—”
Before I can complete the sentence, two big black SUVs roll up in front of my house, and I start to hyperventilate.
The last time this happened, my whole world exploded.
“No. Fuck, they found us.” I turn to run, but an arm bands around my waist, and Carson’s lips are by my ear.
“They’re my men, baby,” he says gently. “You have nothing to be afraid of. I promise.”
I stop trying to get away and wipe tears I didn’t even know were flowing from my cheeks as I turn back around.
“Christ, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I should have warned you.”
“Warned me of what?”
He takes my hand and leads me down to the sidewalk, points to one of the vehicles. “This one is yours.”
“I have a car.”
“I’m sure it’s done well for you, but it’s not good enough anymore. This one is armored, and you’ll have a driver. The driver and the other man with him are your guards. You’ll keep two men with you at all times.”
My jaw drops, and I look up at him, stunned.
“Carson, you can’t—”
“I can. And I did.” He frames my face, and I want to melt into him. “Listen to me. All of the other wives have the same detail. We all insist on it because we won’t be careless with our women ever again. We learned that lesson when I lost you. I have enemies, Rina. More than you can imagine, and the way to hurt me is by hurting you and Charlie. You and I know that better than anyone, and it will not happen again.”
I want to argue. The independent, stubborn part of me wants to tell him that he can’t just come here and change my life like this. That I’m in charge of what happens with me and Charlie.
But I’m also not stupid, and I can hear the urgency in his deep voice.
“This is Bacon,” he says, pointing to one of the men, and my eyebrows climb in surprise. “And this is—”
