Never Letting Go

by Tory Baker

  Never Letting Go

  Tory Baker

  Copyright © 2020 by Tory Baker

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Edited By: Kendra's Editing and Book Services

  Cover Design By: LJ with Mayhem Cover Creations

  Created with Vellum

  Dear Reader!

  Thank you so much for checking out Passport 2 Love!

  Thirteen authors have come together to work on a collaboration that will have you traveling the world from the comfort of your own home with twelve new books!

  Don’t worry about a passport and airline tickets! We will take you around the globe! From Vegas to Mexico to London, and all over!

  Now, are you ready? Yeah? Alright! Let’s do this! Up, up, and away!

  Love always,

  Passport 2 Love Authors

  Travel all around the world with us!

  Travel all around the world with us!

  Check out the Passport 2 Love Collaboration:

  Fly Girl by Aria Cole & Mila Crawford

  Resort to Love by Ja’Nese Dixon

  London’s Calling by KL Donn

  Dirty Prince by L. Nicole

  First Touch by Loni Ree

  The Do-Over by Mayra Statham

  Whoa! I Married the Pitcher! by Megan Wade

  Paging Dr. Hook Up by Mika Jolie

  Rocking Vegas by Regina Frame

  Stay Right Here by Terra Kelly

  Never Letting Go by Tory Baker

  Irish Whiskey by Tracie Douglas

  Contents

  1. Easton

  2. Cameron

  3. Easton

  4. Cameron

  5. Easton

  6. Cameron

  7. Easton

  8. Cameron

  9. Easton

  10. Cameron

  11. Easton

  12. Cameron

  13. Easton

  14. Cameron

  15. Easton

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Tory Baker

  To the friends that have become family, ahem… Jordan Marie, Loni Ree, Melinda Parker, and of course, Michelle McGinty.

  Chapter One

  Easton

  I need this break like I need a breath of fresh air. I’m bone fucking tired. Since the age of eighteen, it’s been nonstop deployments for too many years to count, in war-torn areas that aren’t for the faint of heart. Shit, just thinking about the amount of carnage left behind has me on high alert now. I’m lucky to have survived with only a few scars to tell the tale.

  After my last deployment at the age of twenty-seven, I was done. My mind, body, and soul couldn’t handle it anymore. I came home and began working with Slade and two other guys, Drake and Bridger, at Nighthawk Security. We all left different branches in the military, yet we came together to help others in need. Hell, none of us really knew what else to do when we got out. There wasn’t a whole lot we could do; being a trained killer isn’t really something you put on a resume. We were a lot like anyone else after working for Uncle Sam.

  Now, after three years, I’m ready to move on. I’m ready to branch out and do my own thing. No more long hours hovering over a computer, delving deep into backgrounds, watching security feeds, and hacking into networks night and day. I’m done, ready to become my own boss, only taking the jobs I want or deem necessary. My pockets are already pretty well padded; this will be more of something to keep me occupied.

  That’s why, before I even think about settling on a home to buy in the area, I’m staying at a hotel. Sure, it’s not very cost-efficient, especially when I just put a huge chunk of cash on my new office building, but like I said, I worked my ass off and saved as much as I could while in the military and even when I was working for Nighthawk Security. I basically lived like I was poor. How else could I spend money while working morning, noon, and night? But I’m not complaining. We all pulled our weight, but it just made me pocket every dime I could. And now, I don’t want to buy a house, then turn around, hate the area, and move all over again. I want to plant roots, something I haven’t done since starting my military career.

  So, here I am, checking into a hotel on the beach for the next three weeks while I scope out the area in Beaumont, Alabama, right on the Gulf Coast.

  What I wasn’t prepared for was the humidity. Shit, it’s as bad as being overseas in the desert. I’m pulling at my shirt, trying to cool off from the short walk from my car to inside. I swear to Christ, I was only outside for less than two minutes before I started sweating my balls off.

  I make my way up to the check-in counter, waiting my turn, when the concierge says, “Welcome to Oceania Resort and Spa on the Gulf Coast. How may I help you today?”

  “Hello, I’m checking in. It should be under Easton Reid,” I respond to her as my luggage is brought in by the bellhop. I could have carried the two bags I brought; all the rest of my belongings are in the storage area of my office for the time being. I didn’t want to unpack and repack. That shit is a nightmare. Besides, the max amount of time I’ll stay at any hotel is two weeks. The one comfort I have is my own bed, and I look forward to the day my head is resting on its own pillow again.

  “I have you right here, Mr. Reid. You’re in the penthouse on the East wing. Max will show you the way. Please, enjoy your stay.” Her name tag, pinned to her left shoulder, states her name is Samantha.

  “Thank you, Samantha.” I nod and grab the keycard from her, then turn toward the bellhop. He introduced himself as Max earlier. It goes against everything ingrained in my soul to follow his lead, but I have no fucking idea where we’re going at this point. I guess I should have done my own homework before picking out the hotel.

  As we walk toward the elevator, I take in the view around me. Everything is modern, sleek, and there are floor-to-ceiling windows with views of the beach on two sides, leaving you open to any elements known to man. I can’t help but think of every security issue it would breach. This is a nightmare of epic proportions, and I’m thankful as ever I’m no longer working personal security. This shit would give even me hives. I’d probably make Slade pick some other poor unsuspecting fool to do this kind of security because there’s no fucking way I would touch this with a ten-foot pole.

  We make quick work walking into the elevator. Apparently, this elevator is only used for the penthouse. I guess that’s to be expected when you’re paying three grand a night. Sure, it’s probably too much for one person. But then again, I wanted the floor to myself. No interruptions, no screaming, and no knocking headboards keeping me up all hours of the night.

  The elevator opens up to the foyer. This is a view I could get used to. On the twentieth floor, the only thing I’ll be worried about is the possibility of a sniper. One thing I did make sure of is that this place is the tallest building in the vicinity, and the only window view is oceanfront, so snipers shouldn’t be an issue.

  Max takes my bags and deposits them on the bench at the foot of the king-sized bed before returning. “Here you are, Mr. Reid. I hope you enjoy your stay. If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call.”

&nbs
p; “Thank you.” I hand him a tip, and he leaves. I’m left standing in an empty, oversized room, and it’s the most blissful fucking feeling yet. With that thought in mind, I head further inside to take in the space. All modern amenities are available, including a stocked bar, refrigerator, and even a pantry. I don’t mind eating out occasionally, but I did enough of that the first year working at Nighthawk. I had to hit the gym every day to counteract the garbage I was putting in my mouth. So, now it’s not something I’ll be doing for the next couple of weeks while I have this place booked.

  I head to the master bedroom, open my bag, grab my laptop, and head to the balcony. I may as well do some research for the afternoon. I figure tomorrow I’ll get out and survey the hotel since it will be my home away from home for the next few weeks. Maybe canvas the area and see what they have for entertainment. For now, though, I’ll start wading through potential places to live, check them out, and see what may come to be a forever home.

  The crashing waves, the smell of the salt clinging to the air, and the breeze coming from the ocean assault my senses as I open up the balcony door. I put my laptop on the outdoor couch that’s provided, head back inside, and grab a beer from the bar. My phone ringing stops me from twisting the cap open on the bottle of beer in my hand.

  I take it out of my pocket, knowing there’s only a handful of people that would possibly call me. It’s either my parents, Slade, Drake, or Bridger.

  “Yo,” I answer the phone when I see it’s Slade.

  “Damn, you aren’t even gone two weeks, and you’re already slacking?” Slade grunts into the phone.

  I’m not sure what the hell he thinks I’m slacking in, so I ask, “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Shit, you didn’t even call to let me know which building you secured. I had to hear it from Bridger, and the only way he knew was because he hacked into your account. Even then, he said it was like Fort Knox. Nice going on the fake business name you put it under, though.”

  “That fucker, I ought to shoot him in the damn cock.” I’ve always been obsessed with staying anonymous, a ghost in a world of civilians. That’s why I didn’t let anyone know, not even my closest friends. The less they know, the better for anyone involved. We could each potentially have a price tag on our head at one point in time.

  “Too fucking bad you’re hundreds of miles away. Don’t worry, he backed out and put your firewalls back in place,” he says with a laugh.

  “Gee, thanks. You really shouldn’t have.” I refuse to admit I should have told them, and Slade knows it. I hear the click of the door open. “Hold on a second.” I use my shoulder to hold my phone to my ear while I grab my gun that I took out earlier, and creep toward the door.

  “Housekeeping,” a soft melodic voice says as she knocks. “Oh my God. Oh my freaking God,” the woman in a hotel uniform mumbles on repeat. I guess that will happen when you have a gun pointed at you. I quickly put the gun down and click the safety in place.

  “Shit, let me call you back. Housekeeping is here,” I groan.

  I hear him chuckling in the background. “Later. Watch it out there, brother,” Slade responds.

  She sees the gun that’s now by my side. “I’m so sorry. I was told the penthouse needed towels. I promise I was only doing my job. I didn’t mean to intrude.” I take in her shocked face, her mouth pursed in an O shape. Her white uniform shows off every curve of her slim body.

  “I didn’t ask for any towels.” My voice comes out harsher than I expected. I’m not prepared for the way my body is reacting to hers.

  “I can, umm, leave these right here.” She has the towels on the side of her body as she uses her other arm to show where she can put them. I’m guessing she’s pointing to the bar top that she’s standing by, but with her hand moving back and forth and in every direction, she could mean anywhere.

  “You can put them in the bathrooms,” I concede, and watch her the entire way, taking in the way her hips sway back and forth with every step she takes. If she’s housekeeping, I think I’ll call for new towels on the regular, especially if she’s delivering them.

  Chapter Two

  Cameron

  “I’m so screwed,” I mumble to myself as I scurry into the master bathroom. When I got the call on my walkie-talkie that the penthouse needed towels, I dropped what I was doing and went right away. Sure, I’ve only been working in this position for a few months, but even I know the importance of the penthouse. When a client asks for towels, drinks, or food, you drop whatever the heck you’re doing, and you bust your butt. They do not wait, at all.

  The gun pointed at my head almost had me fleeing the room. I pushed through, though. I need this job more than anything. I’m so close to finishing my schooling to become an Ultrasound Technician I can taste it. I have this last semester to finish up, and then I can do my internship and kiss cleaning up after people goodbye.

  It doesn’t take me long to put the towels away. What I do, though, makes me stop in my tracks. I look into the mirror above the vanity, fix my ponytail that was falling out, straighten my uniform, and blow out a puff of air. “You’re an idiot, Cameron Ann Greene. No rich, hot guy is going to want anything to do with a glorified maid. Not to mention, he had a gun pointed at your head. You’re definitely an idiot.” With one last look, I turn on my heel, not looking where I’m going, and run smack dab into the hot guy himself. If he’s heard what I said about myself, I will be mortified.

  “Oomph,” I let out. His hands grip my shoulders, and a tingling sensation overwhelms me. I can’t tell you when the last time someone actually touched me, even if it was to help me from falling on my ass.

  “Are you okay?” he asks. My head tips up, and I can see he’s bent down to look into my eyes. I’m met with the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen; they remind me of the color of fresh-cut grass after a stormy night. His hair is styled in that way so it looks messy, short on the sides, longer on the top, and it’s a deep blond color. And the smirk he has plastered on his face is enough to have me weak in the knees.

  “Yeah, I’m so sorry. I promise I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll be going now.” When I take a step back, his hands slide down mine, leaving goosebumps along the way, causing a ripple to glide through my body.

  “Thank you, Cam.” His voice has a deep baritone to it.

  “You’re welcome. Wait, how do you know my name?” I question. He points to my left shoulder, answering me. I can feel a flush overtaking my face, so I shake my head with a smile. “Whoops, definitely having a moment. If you need anything, a number to reach me is available in the living room,” I rush out while heading to the front door. “Why did I say reach me? Duh, it’s housekeeping in general,” I murmur under my breath.

  “I’ll be seeing you around, Cam,” I hear him say as the door closes behind me. I never responded to him, but one thing is for sure; the occupant in the East penthouse suite has my toes curling. I wonder if he’s a member of the mob, or in the military. Or I know, maybe he’s a mercenary. My imagination runs wild with what he could possibly do for a living and why he’s staying in the penthouse by himself for two weeks. I was nosey enough to glance at the bedroom when I made my way into the bathroom to place the towels in their rightful place. Two bags were at the foot of his bed, one big suitcase and a smaller bag that looked more like a laptop bag. There was no woman around, no children, not even a friend. He’s definitely a mystery.

  My walkie talkie sounds out loud and clear on my cart, but this time it isn’t for me. “Thank goodness. I’m not sure I can take another catastrophe today.” I look at my clipboard, looking to see if Mr. East Penthouse has a name to put to his face, and man what a face it is. My eyes took in his whole body; his skin was lightly tanned, his strong jawline was sporting a five o’clock shadow, and he had muscles that were apparent but not like some of the gym rats you see all over the place. No, you can tell he doesn’t spend seven-plus hours a day at the gym like some of the other hotel goers do. They’re on vacation, but t
hey don’t take a break even from a gym. Sometimes, I wonder if they’re even human. My idea of a vacation is lazing around and doing nothing. Not working out every single day.

  “Well, look at that. Easton Reid is his name.” I roll the name around on my tongue as I push my cart to the next room. My mind is stuck on the meeting of the handsome stranger as I work down the lists of rooms that need to be cleaned first. I put my headphones in at my next stop and get lost in my work. It’s hard work cleaning hotel rooms, more than I ever thought before. Somedays, there are two of us to a room, but for the most part, it’s just me by myself. I don’t complain, though. Working with someone else can be more of a hassle than it’s worth.

  When I went to Easton’s room, I was in the middle of finishing the last of my three rooms left to do on my shift, calculating that I have a couple of hours until I can make it back to headquarters, take care of the laundry that’s in my cart, and then call it a day. Today seems like it’s taking a toll on my body. That could partially be because I almost peed my pants when Easton Reid pulled a gun, but regardless, the muscles that I don’t always use are aching today, not to mention my feet. “What I wouldn’t give for a massage,” I mutter to myself as I walk into the next hotel room.

  The stench of liquor, smoke, and sex permeates the air. I nearly wretch. Zooming out of the room, I take in a breath of fresh air before I look for my mask. Once I find it, I secure it in place, knowing this is only going to get worse before it gets better.