Page 99 of The Sniper
What can I do about this anyway?I’m not the man for her.She doesn’t want some guy with a mortgage and three thousand dollars in the bank.Tiffany is going to marry someone rich and famous.Some tech tycoon.
An actor.
A musician.
Someone who meets her at the same level she is at and fits into her world.
I wonder for a moment what her world really is.I know she’s close to her parents, and I heard her giggling on the phone to Rebecca, a friend in London.
Sadie is her PA, and they seem to have a great relationship, but obviously, it’s a business one.
Then there’s Nadia.That same uncomfortable feeling returns.I don’t know, the friendship feels forced and based only on proximity.
Jessie said she likes Tiff and that I’m an idiot.
To be fair, I’m an idiot in Jessie’s mind at least four times a year.
I secretly like that the two of them hung out that night, even though my emotions were all over the show.
I wish I’d stayed.
I wish I’d drunk tequila with her and kissed her again, then taken her back to my place and pretended for just one night that she belonged to me.
What would Dad tell me to do?
Cut my losses and set my sights on a girl who can cook good Southern food and wants a family.
I don’t even know what Tiff actually wants when it comes to a relationship and family.Of course I don’t, because I shouldn’t even be thinking about these things.She was a client I was tasked with protecting.
Instead, I fucked her.
I know how damn lucky I am Josh didn’t kick my ass down the road.
I’m going to call one of those support groups.I want to heal from this.I want to know I’m not alone and that there is hope I can push through it.
Jesus, what am I doing lying here stalking Tiffany, pretending she needs my protection.
She doesn’t.
The boys have got this.Noah, Ryder and an entire team of paramilitary experts are down there working this job.I should go home and—
What the fuck?
Something catches my eye.I adjust the scope and wait for my eyes to adjust.
What the hell?
My body stiffens as I accept I’m not imagining this.I just saw...there.And there.And there.
Fuck, this isn’t good.
I rip my phone out of my black cargo pants and punch Noah’s number again.Ring, ring, ring.
Three, no four men—fuck, I think there are six—slide on black caps and position themselves around the perimeter of the event.
Goddamn you, Noah, answer for fuck's sake.
I hang up.Then dial Ryder’s phone.
