The Protector

by Cristin Harber

  “Mary Poppins.” An outstretched hand reached toward the ground. “It’s time to move boots, babe. Get on.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Given how much Jane had questioned him before, Chance was surprised by the nanny’s willingness to jump on the back of his bike without a thousand inquiries.

  Was he sure he could ride a motorcycle?

  Could the bike hold two people?

  Chance was also surprised at the skill and speed with which she lofted herself behind him, considering she looked like she’d outmaneuvered death more than once.

  He didn’t have to tell her to hold on. She wrapped her arms around his waist. But jumping on the bike was one thing; staying on it was another. “Are you injured?”

  She shifted. “Um…”

  Well hell.

  “No,” she finally decided.

  Not like their plan would have changed much if she had been. He squinted at the approaching mob. The group stopped hesitantly, uncertain of who he was. If they were to capitalize on the confusion, they needed to leave now. “Are you going to pass out?”

  “Not right now. But, definitely later.”

  He snorted. “Good plan. Hang on.”

  Jane tightened her arms around his waist and buried her head into his back. Another body on the bike might push the ancient thing to its limits. That’d be fine, so long as they broke through the crowd. He throttled the bike and sped straight ahead.

  The group shouted and jeered, parting at the last second. Some hands grabbed for them as they burned dead center through the crowd. Someone fired warning shots, and Chance hoped the men on the other side of the mob would think twice before firing at them with others so close behind the bike. If not, their ride would be a short and painful one.

  Jane’s hold squeezed, and she cried, “Oh,” as hands continued to tear at them.

  “You’ve got it.” They bumped and skittered through the throng of people. Then he spotted his exit. “Almost there.”

  He banged a quick left, and they were free of the horde. But the rest of the camp wasn’t empty. Chance gunned the motorbike down a row of tents. He wanted to get closer to the fence line. After they passed another tent, he cut around a corner. “Shit.” Women and children and baskets littered the narrow aisle. “Move. Coming through.”

  Jane shifted. Her chin rested on her shoulder, then she squeaked and ducked down again.

  “Don’t worry.” He rocketed down a straightaway, angling his torso forward as though willing the bike to go faster. It was far from a smooth ride. Even if they’d been on flat asphalt, the piece-of-shit bike would’ve vibrated and jerked. Their ride was enough to give veteran thrill-ride seekers a run for their money.

  They broke free of the sea of tents. Ahead of them, only the fence remained, reaching endlessly on either side. Chance eased off the throttle, and they stuttered to a stop. He glanced over his shoulder, and while he didn’t see anyone, he could hear the sputter and whine of kickstarting motorbikes.

  Her limbs loosened. She inched from his back. “What are we doing?”

  “Planning our exit.”

  She shifted, glancing over her shoulder as he pulled out a pocket grenade launcher. It was locked and loaded with one charge. “Cover your ears.”

  Her hands tightened around his waist. “Are you insane?”

  “Probably.”

  Her hands broke from his waist, and he felt her bury her face between his shoulder blades, covering her ears.

  He pointed the handheld launcher at the fence. “Here goes Plan A.”

  The launcher fired, spitting smoke and kicking back in his hand. The grenade hit the base of the barrier fence. Even with the space he’d allowed, the reverb rolled over them. Jane screamed and cursed. He shielded his eyes from the brilliant fireball. If the locals had any question about where they’d gone, the large explosion would offer a pinpoint-location.

  “Hang on.” The flames licked across the dry ground cover. The smoke and dust cleared. He aimed them toward the hole in the fence, ballparking that it was large enough that they could fit through. But just in case… “Duck.”

  Then he barreled toward their only chance of escape.

  ***

  The man was an angel. A fucking insane angel. But an angel, none the less.

  There was no other explanation for Midas. He’d saved her from certain death. Jane looked over her shoulder. One by one, motorbikes slammed to a halt inside the fence. A cloud of dirt mixed with smoke and darkened the air around them like an ominous cloud.

  She swallowed hard over her dry throat. If Midas hadn’t blasted through the fence, they would both have been dead by now. “Why did they stop?”

  He glanced to his side. “That’s their thief-dom, and out here, we’re not worth the chase.”

  “Really?” Everywhere she went, she’d been chased.

  “It’s hotter than hell, and the sun’s just getting stronger. Limited resources.” They crested a small hill and he slowed as they rolled over the uneven path. “And me. I’m an unknown.”

  The Unknown. A damn angel. She believed it through and through. How, in that maddening maze of tents, had he known where to find her? There could be no other explanation. He had to be a divine miracle.

  Her body swayed. Maybe she was hallucinating.

  Because she’d already met Midas. He wasn’t an angel. Actually, he’d been more of a pain in her ass.

  “Whoa.” His hand reached back to brace her. “You okay?”

  “Sure…” Then the daylight turned black.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jane turned her head and groaned. Every muscle ached. Her tongue licked her chapped lips. Something was different. Her mind fought through the fog to wake.

  Softness brushed her cheek. Her hair pulled from her forehead, and her eyelashes fluttered. A low, deep voice urged her awake, but she fought against it. A headache pounded suddenly, and she thought she might get sick.

  Jane rolled to her side. Sore and dizzy, she opened her mouth. Nothing happened. Her stomach convulsed. She curled into the fetal position. The thrum of her heartbeat raced in her ears, and a reassuring hand rested on her shoulder, rubbing gently. Steadily, her racing heart slowed back to normal.

  The nausea abated. She licked her lips again, realizing the skin was chapped, but also free of dirt and grit. She opened her eyes. A small, smoldering fire of red embers burned in the dark. Jane propped herself onto an elbow, realizing it was nighttime.

  “You’ve been out for a while.”

  That voice. She jerked upright, but the quick move made her head spin in sickening circles.

  “Careful.”

  Jane let the spinning stop, and then she twisted to face Midas. Her foggy stupor vanished with squeaky-clean clarity, and the previous days flooded her thoughts. She recalled the hell and fear, and then the escape. After eons of processing what had happened, she whispered, “You saved me.”

  He offered her a canteen. “Drink. It wasn’t easy to hydrate you while you were going in and out.”

  Her fingers pressed to her lips, then skimmed over her cheeks. Her skin wasn’t covered in grime. She reached for the water, and the small container weighed down her hand.

  “You’ll get your strength back.” He rifled through a small pack. “A little more water, protein, and calories. You’ll be back to new.”

  Her arm quivered. She rested the canteen against her thigh and tried to remove the cap. Her stiff grip wouldn’t allow her fingers to close around it. Midas uncapped it with one hand, shifting to her side, and lifted the water to her lips.

  Jane drank like he’d offered nectar from the gods. Water dribbled out the corners of her mouth. She didn’t care, greedily gulping.

  “Not too fast.” He eased back, but her strength returned enough to grip his forearms and hold him in place. “Hang on. You’ll get more in a minute or two.”

  Her eyes burned, and if she hadn’t been dehydrated, Jane would’ve cried. “Please.”

 
“Too much too fast will make you sick.”

  She slumped onto him, and Midas propped her up with his arm around her back. Her eyes closed. “Water. It’s all I can think about.”

  Midas hummed. “Do you see the stars?”

  “I can’t open my eyes.”

  “There’s a constellation over there. Something that translates to something like ‘big fish.’”

  She grinned against his hold. “You’re making that up.”

  “Swear I’m not.”

  “Tell me more,” she whispered hoarsely.

  Midas hummed in thought again. “Don’t bust my ass if I get the details wrong.”

  She managed a small laugh. “Promise.”

  “In mythology, a fish saved the life of a goddess. Its descendants became stars, and that’s why some Syrians avoid eating fish.”

  Her eyes cracked open until she stared at the sky. Midas noticed and pointed. She couldn’t see a fish, and though she believed him. Still, she added, “I’ll Google that when I get home.”

  “I’d expect nothing less.” Then he quietly continued, explaining where the planets would be able to be seen if it were a different time of year.

  Jane listened, and his voice lulled her weariness away.

  “All right.” He eased the canteen to her mouth again. “Try not to drown yourself.”

  Her lips quirked. She’d almost forgotten her desperate need for water. This time, with newfound knowledge about the stars and some water already in her system, she drank more slowly.

  “Good?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Hungry?”

  She should have been. But her unsettled stomach rose at the mention of eating. “I’m not sure.”

  “Try to eat something anyway.” He removed a small package from the side pocket of his pants and handed it to her. “Protein bar packed with calories.”

  “Oh, calories. How I’ve missed thee.” Jane tore the dark green wrapper open and, after a few bites, wrinkled her nose and took a small sip of water. “It doesn’t taste that good.”

  He laughed. “Sometimes that’s not the point.”

  The little voice in the back of her head—or maybe, from in her stomach—told her to keep eating. Like Midas said, she needed protein and calories.

  He took the wrapper when she finished and then picked up a stick, poking at the red, glowing embers. “Are you cold?”

  Jane realized she was so out of sorts that her basic needs weren’t coming to mind. If it weren’t for this guy, urging her along, she might not have woken up, much less hydrated and fed herself. “A little.”

  He reached behind them and then added another layer of fabric over her legs.

  It was a robe like the ones she’d been given. “Thanks.”

  He nodded and studied the small fire. Jane listened to it crackle and watched how it cast an orange glow over his face. He was handsome, in a rugged sense. She couldn’t picture him in the posh world of the Thanes, wearing designer clothes and striking poses for Instagram, but he didn’t need that kind of pomp to showcase his sharp features.

  He had a strong jawline, a straight nose, and eyes that never stopped searching for danger. She recalled, from seeing him in the daylight, that they were blue. A deep, cobalt blue. Up close, she’d sworn there’d been flecks of gold. Tonight, his eyes were dark and serious. The corners of them had slight crinkles, as though he’d spent more time squaring off with threats than Jane could imagine.

  She shivered. His hand reached over, pulling her to his side and shielding her from the elements. The protective move reminded her of their escape, and her chill lessened. Little by little, the shivers stopped.

  “Do you want to go back to sleep?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure.” She leaned into him and realized she couldn’t recall anyone helping or sacrificing for her like Midas had. Not her parents or her friends. Certainly not the Thanes. She’d been the one always sacrificing to help others make up for the lack of caring she’d received growing up; it came naturally to treat people the way she wanted to be treated. But others didn’t always act the same way. No one would lay their life on the line for her. Except, this man had.

  And he was a stranger. Or, not. He was Midas.

  Overwhelmed by his selflessness, Jane wrapped her arms around him and hugged. He stiffened, obviously uncomfortable, but she didn’t care. She was alive and safe and had no one else to thank but him.

  He awkwardly patted her on the back. When she didn’t let go, choking on a grateful sob, he begrudgingly returned the hug as though that might do the trick. But she didn’t want to let go. The hug had gone on far too long. She didn’t care and could have hugged him for the rest of her life and still not conveyed how grateful she was. “You came back for me.”

  He shifted. “I gave you my word.”

  He did. She didn’t know why that struck her as a surprise. Finally, she released him with a self-conscious laugh. “No more torture. Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize.” He pushed her hair behind her ear and then repeated his question again. “Are you still tired? Do you want to go back to sleep?”

  Her head tilted. “What about you?”

  “Me?”

  She twisted to get a better look at his face. “Are you tired?”

  “I’m exhausted.” He chuckled.

  Her hand pressed to her chest. “Did you get any sleep?”

  “I will, but first wanted to make sure you didn’t die on me.”

  “Oh, well… I didn’t. Now you should sleep. I can…” She gestured to the dark blanket of night, having no idea what surrounded them. “I’ll stay up and make sure everything is fine.”

  His lips quirked and amusement danced in his eyes. “Generous, but I think it’ll be okay.”

  Her brow furrowed. “You can’t stay awake indefinitely.”

  “I’ll close my eyes and get a little rest.”

  Good. She nodded. Though who would keep an eye out for… everything and anything. “What if something or someone—”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll hear if anyone comes close.”

  “What?” Her furrow deepened. “You’ve got superhero hearing?”

  He laughed. “Maybe.”

  Jane pursed her lips. “You’re awfully confident.”

  “We’re in a good place, and I set up a few hair-trigger traps should anything slip by my superhero faculties.”

  Her lips twitched, and relaxing somewhat, she couldn’t shake the feeling they shouldn’t sleep at the same time. “What about…” She recalled the howling animal from across the camp fence. “Coyotes or cougars. Whatever they have out here?”

  “We’ll be okay.”

  Sleep beckoned, and she wanted to believe. “Midas.” She fought off a yawn. “I haven’t come this far to become someone’s dinner.”

  Midas tilted his head and urged her bed down. “I won’t let that happen.” His voice gentled. “Promise.”

  “There you go again. Who makes so many impossible-to-keep promises?”

  “I do, MP.”

  Mary Poppins. She felt a stab of guilt for being so difficult with him now and when they were with Teddy. “I’ll just rest a little.” She pulled the robes up like a blanket, tucking them under her chin. “Make sure you sleep too.”

  He positioned close. They weren’t touching, but she sensed his proximity. And, she sensed how much larger he was than she’d realized. Taller, broader, stronger. It reminded her of how she’d called him Hercules.

  “Good night, Jane.”

  Her insides warmed, and she didn’t know why, but his steadfast voice made her smile. “Good night, Midas.”

  The still night hung low, dark. There should’ve been a cacophony of sounds, but she only heard the faint crackle of the fire embers. For as tired as she was, the night wasn’t ready to release her to sleep. Silence dangled between them like an unfinished conversation.

  “My name is Chance.”

  She fel
t his whisper as much as she’d heard it.

  “Chance Evans.”

  She wondered how sharing a name could seem so personal. “Good night, Chance Evans.”

  “Sleep tight, Jane Singleton.”

  She grinned then shivered, not 100 percent sure that she was that cold. Jane rolled onto her side and pressed her back against his side. Chance pulled in a slow, deep breath and then let it go. Her eyes closed, and she finally felt like she could almost fall asleep.

  He repositioned and hooked his arm over her side, molding his body against hers. Her shivers faded. A small smile curled on her lips as she finally drifted to sleep.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The desert grew so cold overnight that if Chance had any light, he would’ve seen his breath puff out in front of him. But as the first rays of daylight began to break over the horizon, he knew that would change. And quickly.

  Until then, he stayed close to Jane. She’d slept more soundly this time. He’d caught a few Zzzs on and off as well. When he woke the last time, her head rested on his bicep like he was her pillow and his leg was thrown over her thigh.

  Given the circumstances, staying close was always a good idea. But that wasn’t the reason he didn’t move. Holding her warmed him from the inside out. Then again, he wasn’t within his right to touch her like that. There was no need to tangle their legs to keep her warm. Chance grit his molars and lifted his leg from her thigh.

  Jane mumbled in her sleep and turned to face him. She cuddled and nuzzled herself into the crook of his arm, and son of a bitch, he liked that the testy blonde had a soft side. He liked a whole hell of a lot about her in addition to her attitude, and if he wasn’t very careful, the way she curled her body to his would make him hard as a rock.

  He closed his eyes and tried to find sleep again, knowing it wouldn’t come. It wasn’t that he’d had enough rest. The warm tickle of her breath against his skin would keep him wide awake.

  Chance wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. The inky black sky showed wisps of purple in the east. Dawn would eventually arrive, and he hoped it took its time. There had never been a time when a woman rested in his arms for the basic need of safe sleeping. She didn’t care about looks. She wasn’t there because they’d gone to bed. She simply needed him to protect her while she rested. He liked that.