I release her and for a moment she just stares at me, a mix of turbulent emotions in her eyes, before her chin dips and she steps around me. I want to pull her back. I want to follow her. I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted so many fucking things as I do with Pri all the damn time.
The bedroom door shuts behind me, and the room’s attention is fixed on me. Savage grins and grabs what has to be his sixth donut. “It’s getting hot in here,” he sings, quoting what I think is supposed to be an old Nelly song. “I want to take off all my clothes.”
“Please don’t,” Adam says, as the bedroom door is already opening again.
I shift my footing to bring Pri into view as she motions up and down her body. “I feel like I stand out in this outfit,” she worries. “Red and pink?”
“Would you ever dress like that?” Adam asks.
Her brows dip. “Well, no, but—”
“Then you’ve already answered your question,” Adam replies. “You don’t look like you. That means you look perfect.”
She inhales sharply and concedes. “If you’re really certain.”
“I am,” Adam assures her.
“If only you were that agreeable with me,” I comment.
“I have a reply in my head,” Pri says, “that I’ll save for that warm and fuzzy moment when we’re alone.”
“I’m sure I can’t wait,” I reply dryly, and the truth is, I can’t fucking wait.
“You look good, chica,” Savage chimes in. “I’d let you live. Eat a donut,” he adds. “Live your life. We’re going to make sure you keep it.”
“Stop talking, Savage,” I say.
Adam motions for me to sit. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can stop listening to him talk.”
“Agreed,” I say, claiming the chair.
A few quick minutes later, Pri is drinking her coffee, watching me transform into Adam’s vision of a new me. Soon, I’m sporting salt and pepper in my goatee, while I’m wearing a top hat, a thick double-breasted jacket, and some kind of pointed-toe black shoes.
Savage, of course, offers his commentary. “You look like one of those creepy professors at the universities that fucks all his students and then claims he didn’t.”
“Thank you, Savage,” I say tightly.
He raises his cup in my direction. “Just keeping it real, man,” he says, while Pri laughs, but the sound is strained, almost choked.
She’s nervous and dressing up like strangers isn’t helping. Her laughter fades and her eyes meet mine, and the tension between us is just too damn taut. She’s pissed and stubborn and there is a fight in our future that cannot be avoided. I’m going to save her life even if she hates me for it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
ADRIAN
I’m about ten seconds from pulling Pri into the bedroom and kissing the hell out of her, or just plain kissing her right here in front of everyone when Blake returns from outside. “Let’s get the fuck out of Dodge,” he calls out, and just like that, the moment between me and Pri is lost.
Suddenly the team huddles around us, and as it should be, Blake’s focus is on Pri. “I want you to walk through the lobby,” he instructs her, “and ask the doorman where the nearest Starbucks is. Walk to that Starbucks and go inside. It’s a block down and a block to the right. It’s close.”
My objection is instant. “No,” I say. “I don’t want her out in the open on her own. I’ll go with her.”
“Nada, man,” Savage interjects. “You two together is an assassin’s wet dream. Two paydays in one place. Split up. You need to split up.”
“It’s the right move,” Blake argues. “And our team is spread out along the path we have her traveling.”
“Damn it,” I murmur, scrubbing the back of my neck because they’re right, but the memory of Logan following Pri into that bathroom is crystal clear and pretty damn awful. “Her purse is gone. She needs a new one and a gun to put inside it.”
“Ask and you shall receive,” Adam says, producing a pink handbag. “A loaner from Luke’s wife, Julie.” He hands the purse to Pri. “There’s a baby Glock inside. I realize, based on the weapon you carry, that isn’t your favored handgun, but that’s the best we could do on short notice.”
Pri blinks and accepts the bag. “She loaned me a pink Louis Vuitton you can no longer purchase? Now I really need a bodyguard. Or to bribe her to keep it.”
“Check the weapon,” I say because I know Pri well enough to know that she’s talking about the purse to distract herself from what comes next, and I can’t let her entertain that kind of headspace. Not now. Not when I need her to be ready for anything. “Make sure you’re comfortable handling it.”
She settles the purse on her shoulder and removes the Glock, checking the ammo with a skill that I’m certain no one in this room misses. “It’s good,” she declares. “It’s a little large for my hand, but I’ve practiced with one a few times. I can manage.”