Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“How do I know if I can trust you?” I challenge softly, my voice carrying the weight of more than just this moment. It’s not just about my mom—it’s about me. How much of myself am I willing to trust him with?
But he lights up with a genuine laugh, and it eases some of the tension knotted in my chest. “I’m one of the good guys, remember. Special Agent Tony DiNozzo. And you’re Ziva David. And as long as I’m around, I promise you don’t have to do this alone.”
His words settle over me like a blanket. I don’t know why, but I believe him. I believe that as long as Dom is here, I’m not alone. It’s a dangerous thought, one that makes me feel safe and seen in a way I haven’t allowed myself to feel in a long time.
Dominic Dunn is starting to feel an awful lot like my safe place. And that might be the most dangerous thought I’ve had yet.
But even that isn’t enough to stop me.
“Okay, Tony. I guess we’re going out.”
22
Hannah
1:00 p.m.
After we finished up breakfast, Dom ran home to grab a few things and switch out his unmarked Camaro for a fancy black Range Rover that had me raising my eyebrows in puzzlement the instant I set eyes on it.
It’s a fantastic car—was a dream car for teenage Hannah, in fact—but I’m pretty sure the price tag has six figures attached to it. Not exactly what you’d expect a detective from Metro PD to be driving.
Sherry, on the other hand, hasn’t stopped talking about how great Tony’s car is since Dom helped her get into the back seat while I was locking up the house to leave.
Now we’re heading down the highway toward an unknown destination, and all Dom’s told me is that it’ll be fun and laid back. I hope he’s right. Taking my mom out of the comfort zone of our farmhouse and access to every single NCIS episode ever created is something I haven’t done in a very long time.
“Any hints on where we’re going?” I question, looking over at Dom as he takes the next exit, which says Belle Meade.
“Do you like parties, Hannah?” he answers my question with a question, and a little smirk flickers on his lips when he glances at me out of his periphery.
He takes a right turn into a very affluent neighborhood in Nashville. But I shouldn’t be surprised—Belle Meade is known for being where the money is. In fact, my father knew that very well. He actually built quite a few houses in this area back in the day.
“Do I like parties?” I repeat with a snort. “I guess that depends on what kind of parties we’re talking about.” I meet his eyes conspiratorially for a brief moment, both of us fully aware that I’m referring to a specific caller by the name of Waylon. His version of a party is something I hope to never experience. Hell, just thinking about that caller has anxiety clutching my chest. Last I heard, Dom and Shane were actively tracking that guy down to question him, but I don’t know anything else.
I start to open my mouth to ask him for an update on Waylon, but my mom is quick to change the conversation to NCIS-inspired thoughts.
“Oh, Tony, you’re so funny,” my mother cuts in with a laugh from the back seat. “Of course Ziva loves parties, especially where you’re involved. Surely you haven’t forgotten how much fun the two of you had together in Paris.”
“You’re right, Sherry,” Dom agrees with an amused smile, his eyes flitting to the rearview mirror to meet my mother’s. “Though I think Ziva was a little pissed at me for killing her boyfriend back then.”
I blink several times, genuinely surprised that Dom’s response is actually right on point.
“Yeah, but Rivkin was corrupt,” she answers through a scoff. “I honestly don’t know why it took you so long to realize, Ziva. He might’ve acted pro-American, but he was a snake.”
“Tell me about it,” Dom agrees and flashes a little grin in my direction. “From the moment I met him, I knew something was off with that guy.”
My mom goes back to looking out the window as Dom drives us down a perfectly paved road in a clearly rich neighborhood within Belle Meade. But I am mostly fixated on him. When he meets my eyes, I convey all I need to with a furrow of my brow.
“I’ve been doing a little research,” he comments and tosses a wink in my direction.
“A little?” I retort on a snort. “You’re, like, over one hundred and thirty episodes deep, my friend.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to fall asleep after a long day of detective work.” He shrugs. “And I haven’t watched all of them. There’s this fandom group I joined online that’s filled with experts,” he answers, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I asked one guy to give me a rundown of all things Tony and Ziva. Clearly, he followed through.”