And now the messages are pouring in.
I glance at Penn, who’s thumbing through texts and emails, his jaw clenched. Not with anger—he’s overwhelmed. I know because I am too.
“Your DMs still blowing up?” I ask gently.
“Yeah.” He drags a hand through his hair. “Couple of old teammates. A bunch of strangers. That guy from SportsCenter called me a goddamn legend.”
“Most of my messages are people apologizing,” I say. “For not believing me. For thinking I made it up.”
Penn’s hand finds mine and squeezes. “They should apologize. And you don’t owe any of them a reply.”
Penn’s phone chimes and he goes still, reading yet another text message. “McLendon,” he murmurs.
I lean over and he tilts the phone my way so I can see Jacob’s message.That was gutsy and I respect it. You’ve made me rethink things. Maybe we can talk some more when you’re up to it.
My hand covers his wrist and I push the phone down until he sets it on the counter. His eyes meet mine in question.
“You have handled this in such a genuine fashion, you’re making a lot of people think twice about it. It will open a dialogue about hazing, responsibility and doing the right thing. I’m proud of you, Penn.”
There’s a flicker in his eyes, just a moment where it looks as though he might shut down on me, but it vanishes like smoke. Left behind is gratitude and he punctuates it by wrapping a hand around my nape and pulling me closer. His lips press against my forehead and when he pulls back, his expression is intensely serious. “I wouldn’t have done this had you not shown up on my doorstep. This is all thanks to you. My life has changed completely… thanks to you.”
Butterflies zoom around my belly. “I’m glad that’s something you can be thankful for instead of thinking I’m a pain in the ass.”
Penn laughs, a sound I’ve been hearing more and more. “You’re still a pain in the ass, but you’re my pain the ass.”
My lungs deflate, the air gushing out of me in a massive sigh of romantic swoon. I lean in to kiss him but the doorbell rings, and I jump.
Still a little skittish, but then I remember, we’ve been waiting on our ride to the airport. The team will be flying out to Edmonton, the start of a three-game road trip that will take all week, and Penn has insisted both me and our security teamtravel on the Titans’ plane. Admittedly, I’m pretty excited about this level of behind-the-scenes access.
Penn rises from the stool, taking both of our cups to the sink. “That’ll be our security entourage.”
“I’ll get the door,” I say, popping up, but he shoots me a look and I freeze.
“I’ll get it,” he says, a pointed reminder that things still could be dangerous.
He then shoots me a wink and heads to the front door. I follow along, my eyes passing over the luggage stacked there. A suitcase for him, and two for me, because I’m a girl and need more stuff.
Penn swings open the front door, and three figures stand in the morning light. We’d already been contacted by Malik letting us know that he’d be sending three agents to travel with us, along with photos of them so we could make sure who they were.
Ladd McDermott is tall and broad-shouldered, ex-military by the look of him, with sandy-blond hair and a square jaw that belongs on a billboard for tactical gear. He wears a navy Jameson Force jacket zipped halfway and I see the edge of a leather shoulder holster just inside. Greer Hathaway is a striking contrast—slim and composed with black hair in a sleek bun and intelligent eyes that look past Penn’s shoulder and sweep the foyer in one practiced motion. The third person is Jackson Gale, who gives off serious James Bond energy. He’s darker-haired with intense eyes that make you instantly aware nothing gets past him.
“Your car service has arrived,” Ladd says with a warm smile.
Introductions are made and then we gather our luggage, putting it in the rear of a black Suburban with tinted windows.
Greer takes the driver’s seat and Jackson the front passenger. Ladd goes to the third-row seats and Penn and I take the second row. It’s not lost on me that we are fully surrounded byprotection, although I’m not sure what could happen on the way to the airport. I doubt Jace or Peter or whoever is stalking us has the capabilities to take us out like this.
Greer pulls out and hits the highway. Jackson swivels in his seat to look back at us. “So, I heard this all started with you both just trying to do the right thing.”
“Tryingbeing the operative word,” Penn mutters with a shake of his head, but I see the curve of a smile that tells me the bitterness is left behind.
“Read the article this morning,” Jackson says. “You’ve got balls.” His eyes then cut to me. “No offense.”
I laugh, the first genuine one in what feels like days. “None taken. So, do you three work together often?”
Greer answers. “Ladd and I are married.” Her eyes lift to the rearview mirror to look at him and a soft smile plays on her face. “We’re fortunate that we get to do a lot of assignments together.”
“Married?” I glance over my shoulder at Ladd, surprised. “Did you meet on the job?”
