One of many indications, if they could wade through the shit, their future was bright.

But first¸ they had to wade through the shit.

To that end, he tightened his hold on her before either of their breathing had evened and told her quietly, “Starting today, gonna put a man on you, baby. Everywhere you go.”

He felt her tense against him, he fucking hated it, but he kept going.

“He’ll be unobtrusive. But even with him on you, when I text or phone, want you to answer. If you can’t right away, do it as soon as you can. Yesterday you didn’t and it made me uneasy.”

“Okay, Nick,” she agreed.

He let out a breath.

Then he hit the next possible pile of shit.

“You sleep okay?”

She lifted her head and looked at him through the dark before dawn.

“Yes,” she lied.

He slid a hand up her back.

“Baby,” he started gently, “every night I’ve had you, you been restless.”

“I’m not a good sleeper.”

“Shit in your head?” he asked.

“I…” She stopped whatever she was going to say and answered simply, “Yes.”

“Can I help with that?”

She laid still on him for a beat before she dropped her forehead to his.

He slid his hand all the way up her back to tangle it in her hair.

“Livvie?” he called.

“I think you just did,” she said, sliding her head down so she had her nose pressed against the hinge of his jaw.

“Sorry?”

“Helped with that. I think you just did, Nicky,” she told him, words in her soft voice he felt hit him hard in the gut.

So his “Good,” was gruff.

They fell silent and held on.

Unfortunately, he had to roll her to the side and pull out of her.

“Shower time, Liv,” he muttered.

“Okay, sweetheart,” she muttered back.

He pulled them out of bed.

Having waded through that shit, he took them to the second best part of the morning.

Their shower.

* * * * *

5:22 – That Evening

Nick’s phone ringing, he took the call and put it to his ear.

“Sebring.”

“She’s got a tail on her,” Jed, the man he set on Liv that day, said. “Dude followed her from office to home. He’s hangin’ around, watchin’ her house.”

“He make you?” Nick asked.

“No,” he answered. “But he doesn’t look like he’s leaving.”

“Fuck,” Nick muttered, that itch creeping up his neck again, his mind hoping that this was what Liv told him it was, standard procedure. His bugs being pulled, his gut was telling him something else. Then to Jed, louder, “Thanks, man. Stick around, yeah?”

“You got it.”

Nick hung up then reengaged, calling Olivia.

“Hey, honey,” she answered.

“You had a tail. He’s watching your house.”

She didn’t reply for several moments before he heard a low, “Damn,” and he knew she’d gone to a window and tagged her watcher.

“I’m comin’ to you,” he said.

Her tone was sharp when she started, “Sebring—”

“He won’t see me,” he assured.

“Are you positive you can pull that off?” she asked.

“Yes,” he answered.

Again, she didn’t reply for another several moments before, “I’ll unlock the doors to the pool. Do you think they know I’m not around and that’s why I have someone on me?”

“No clue, babe. But we’ll keep better track of shit from here on out.”

And they sure as fuck would.

“Right,” she replied.

“I got some things to do at the office. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way. Also still got my man on you, he’s watchin’ your watcher. That situation changes, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, Nick.”

“Later, Liv.”

“’Bye, sweetheart.”

They hung up. He did the things he had to do, texted her, left the office and parked on the street three blocks from her place. He approached from the alley, went in through her back gate (doing it making a mental note to buy a lock for it) and entered the house through a side French door by her pool.

She was standing at the end of the hall, watching him approach.

He saw her standing there but mostly he was taking in her place as he approached.

He got within four feet—and it took him a while to do that—when he said, “Tell Jeeves I’ll take my whisky now.”

He watched her body twitch.

And he stopped dead when she busted out laughing.

Fucking hell.

Fucking.

Hell.

He’d never seen her laugh.

It changed her. Entirely.

Gone was his cool, poised, exquisite princess.

Her laughter was soft, even delicate, like her voice, but it transformed her face, the line of her body.

She no longer was the cool-as-shit, hot-as-fuck piece of ass only a half percent of the male population would have the balls to approach because, even if the promise of her screamed it was worth the risk, every vibe she gave said you’d crash and burn.

In her place was the sweet-as-hell, hot-as-fuck piece of ass it wouldn’t matter if you crashed and burned because she’d lay that hurt on you like velvet and you’d end up with her number anyway because you were invited to hang with her posse to watch the game.