by Em Petrova
“Sloane?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you ask if I have a dog?”
She didn’t speak at first. Finally, she said, “I was thinking what a normal guy you seem like.”
“Normal? You mean boring.”
“Not at all. I just wondered if you have a family you sit down with on Thanksgiving and share a feast with or if you go home after work and take your dog for a walk.”
“I haven’t been to a family dinner in years.”
She raised her head off his chest to stare at him. “Are you estranged from your family? You all look so happy in the photos.”
He noted how she twisted her lips on that statement and amused himself for a moment thinking of her drawling out y’all.
“No, I’m on good terms with my parents and sister. She works in DC as a financial analyst, and sometimes we meet for the day and bike or hike in a state park.”
She lowered her head to his chest again. “I wish I had Scarlett in my life.”
His heart tugged. “I know you do, Sloane. And I swear I’ll pull down all my powers, yank all the strings I have, to find her for you.”
“Thank you.” Her voice sounded thick. After several more minutes drifted away, she whispered, “I’m so tired.”
“It’s part of being on the run.”
“Just how many women have you saved?”
“I don’t only protect women. I guard men and children as well.”
“How many would you say in total?”
His mind flipped through several images like looking through a photo album. A man grateful to return to his family safe and whole. A child found and reunited with her mother. He couldn’t begin to guess at a number. Did it matter?
“Not enough,” he rumbled. “Not nearly enough.”
Chapter Seven
Driving ten miles into a town for supplies made North on edge. Sloane saw it in the set of his shoulders and the way he firmed his jaw. He didn’t like taking her into the open, but leaving her behind wasn’t an option, he said.
He stopped the car in front of a small grocer nestled in a one-stop-sign town consisting of a gas station, the grocery store and a hair salon.
“This looks quaint,” she commented about the brick façade and hand-painted sign over the door.
“It’s been here forever. All right, let’s get this straight.” He pivoted in the seat to face her. “Pull your hat low over your eyes and don’t look up. Got it?”
The man returned to an all-business demeanor that made her wonder which side of North she’d see on a daily basis if they were in a relationship.
To prove she could handle the simple request to pull her hat down, she did so now. The battered old straw hat belonged to his mother, found on a shelf in a closet at the cabin. He helped Sloane choose her outfit as well, saying he wanted her less Hollywood star caught on vacation and more tourist. She wore her own workout shorts and North’s T-shirt knotted at the waist. He’d also told her to wear her hair tucked up on her nape.
The ball cap he sported didn’t look like his style, though it did a good job of covering his sandy locks, though she wondered if a human existed on Earth that wouldn’t look twice at Bodhi—man or woman. The guy oozed control and power in a way that commanded notice.
“C’mon.”
When they walked up to the front of the shop, he kept an arm around her. Inside, he grabbed a basket and moved quickly through the aisles, gathering staples that would provide several meals for them. Luckily, they only crossed paths with one customer, and she was too busy wrestling her toddler to give them much notice.
At the checkout, Sloane kept her head dipped, pretending to peruse the mints and gum. After Bodhi paid for their order, they hurried out to the car.
He ensured she was seated before dumping the bags on the back seat. All of a sudden, she felt tension rolling off him.
Bodhi slammed her door, and somehow the car automatically locked with her inside. Breathing heavily, she stared on as a man approached. Bodhi held up a hand. The other man didn’t back away. Then she saw Bodhi reach for his weapon. He pulled it from his waistband.
At the same moment, a second man sprinted from the tall hedges lining the parking lot.
“North!” she shrieked.
He spun toward the danger—not away from it. She registered this as she saw the man graze him with a knife. Blood bloomed red on his tanned skin, and her stomach flipped.
North gripped the attacker’s arm and flexed it into an angle, obviously snapping it, even if the guy’s scream of pain wasn’t enough proof. She pasted both hands over her mouth, helplessly looking on as Bodhi finished off the man who’d knifed him.
He whirled and fired on the other. She didn’t see him fall, because at that moment, Bodhi jumped behind the wheel and stomped the gas pedal. They backed out at lightning speed and took off down the country road.
“You’re hurt! Oh my God.” She reached out for him, but he placed a hand out to stay her in her seat.
“There might be more. Fuck, I led you right into an ambush.” He shook his head as if holding a mental conversation. “No, I didn’t have a choice. I had to confront them there. I couldn’t have them following us to the cabin.”
“He stabbed you!”
“It’s a graze.” He didn’t flinch or indicate in any way he bore an injury. “I’ll take care of it once I get you to the cabin. Fuck!”
The remainder of the drive, she held her silence, sensing Bodhi didn’t need more distractions.
“They must have followed us as far as the corners yesterday, but we lost them. They hung around just waiting for us to return,” he mumbled as if to himself.
“Who are they? Is this Flint’s doing or—”
He shook his head. “It’s fallout from the movie.” He finally shot her a glance. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, but you’re not!”
“I’m fine.” His tone adopted a hard edge. He drove up to the cabin, looking all around for hidden dangers, and she bit her lower lip to restrain a cry of fear. Someone attacked Bodhi. Cut him.
All because of me.
It didn’t matter that Bodhi was doing his job, protecting her at all costs to his personal safety. He wouldn’t be hurt if not for her.
A call came in, and he brought the phone to his ear. “Clean them up, and question the one I left alive. Get men surrounding my property within the hour.” He stuffed the phone into his pocket.
Shudders ran through her. She folded her arms to hold herself together. The minute he stopped the car in front of the cabin, she jumped out and ran around to help him from the vehicle. When she saw the gash in his upper arm and blood flowing freely down his elbow, she clenched her teeth with determination.
“Get inside.”
A faint smile tipped the corner of his lips. “You’re ordering me around?”
“Yes, dammit.”
Once in the cabin, he walked into the bathroom and reached into the linen closet, coming out with a plastic box containing medical supplies. He set it on the vanity and began rummaging inside.
“Let me.” She shoved him out of the way. “Tell me what you’re looking for.”
Again, that faint smile tinged his hard lips though it vanished quickly. He turned the water on and ran a washcloth beneath the spray. While he dabbed at the wound, she got out the supplies he told her to. Looking at the array of gauze, antiseptic wash and ointment didn’t frighten her. However, seeing the long, thin package containing sutures left her legs weak.
“You’re not going to a hospital?” she asked.
“No.” He didn’t look at her as he ripped open the various packs and laid everything out on a fresh towel. Finally, he spared her a glance. “Sloane, go. You don’t have to watch this.”
She wavered on her feet. “You intend to stitch yourself?”
“Yes. Did you think I would ask you to do it?” He shook his head.
She steeled herself. “I’m not leaving. I’ll do whatever you
tell me to.”
Watching him clean the wound wasn’t easy for her, but she handed him gauze to dab at the blood. When he fit his lower lip under his teeth and took the needle to his flesh, she gripped the vanity’s edge. Then realizing she might be better off not standing, she sank to her knees beside him.
North drew the first stitch through his skin, closing the first millimeter of gaping flesh. She didn’t realize she issued a noise until he looked up at her. The depths of his eyes revealed concern.
“You’re not going to pass out, are you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Good. I need you to clip the suture after I knot it.”
She had no idea how he managed to create the intricate knot let alone one-handed.
“You have medical training?”
“Enough to stitch myself or someone else and perform CPR. If you need rescued from a burning building, I’m afraid I’ll have to call the fire department. That’s above my pay grade.”
His attempt at a joke brought a tense smile to her lips. He nodded toward the scissors on the towel. “Go on and clip it just above the knot. Don’t cut it too short.”
“Okay.” She did so and found simply snipping some thread didn’t terrify her as much as she feared.
He began to create the next stitch. By the time he finished, she guessed he’d have twenty to thirty.
“How did you do that?” she asked after two more.
He glanced at her. “Do what?”
“I didn’t sense you were nervous in the store. Only when that man ran at you in the parking lot.”
“I wasn’t nervous in the store—only cautious. I’m surprised you knew I was tense in the parking lot. I’ve been trained to hide that.” He issued a short chuckle.
“Is this like the SEAL training where they put you in extreme situations and monitor your pulse rate?”
“Something like that.”
“I see.” She continued to act as his assistant until the final stitch.
Yes, she did see—that she didn’t know these dangers the way she knew the ones Flint presented. It was also glaringly obvious she couldn’t handle this and Flint at the same time, which meant she must drop one danger for the other. Her quest to find Scarlett needed to sit on the backburner until this eruption about environmental issues all blew over and she could walk the streets safe again.
The idea of giving up on her sister nearly gutted her. She firmed her jaw. I’m not giving up. I’m only putting her on hold.
Still, it didn’t set well. What bothered her more was that other people got hurt. Bodhi got hurt.
She stood and began boxing up the unneeded supplies. He watched her from his seat on the toilet for a moment before placing a hand on her forearm.
“Sloane. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in your mind.”
Her throat worked around a sudden lump there. She met his stare. “I think…”
Just say it. Send him away.
“I think you should leave me with someone else, Bodhi—the police or FBI or…”
“Christ. You’re trying to protect me?” He slicked his fingers through his sweat-damp hair and then sent her a piercing look. “I’m not going anywhere, Sloane. I’ll see you safe…and I swear I won’t fuck up again.”
* * * * *
It struck him that she didn’t think he could protect her. Hell, if he couldn’t keep her safer than this, what right did he have to call himself a member of The Guard? He might as well condemn himself to a life of maps.
She left the bathroom, and he watched her go. It shouldn’t piss him off and cause a pang of hurt all at once, yet her loss of faith in him stung far more than the fresh knife wound and stitches he just placed in his arm.
After shoving to his feet, he moved to the sink and washed his hands again. In the other room, he heard the door close quietly and knew Sloane shut him out.
It’s for the best. Letting his shield down and taking her to bed had shifted something between them. Life existed on balance. Even here in this cabin, he saw it many years. Spending a couple weeks together as a family, playing in the salty ocean, would eventually wear them all out. His father would grow more withdrawn and irritable. Then his mother would declare it was time for them to pack up and head back to their lives.
Later, North connected the dots and concluded that humans required down time as well as periods of productivity—the balance.
He’d played with his ward, leaving their tenuous bodyguard/ward relationship teetering on one leg. Sloane might have seen him as her lover rather than her protector, and now that leg had been kicked out from under them.
She asked me to leave her.
He shook his head and splashed water on his hot face. Stitching himself up drained the energy from him, but he needed to make it through a lot more hours left in the day.
Maybe he really should consider handing her off to someone else. He could go after these bastards one at a time without the worry of her protection.
No. I won’t go.
When he accepted his post with The Guard, he hadn’t taken the job to sit at his computer and locate people on maps. No, he took the job to protect, rescue, save and fight dirty until the final end.
He dried his hands on a towel, took one more glance at the bandage covering his arm and went in search of Sloane.
As soon as he spotted her curled up in his mother’s favorite striped armchair, his heart gave a kick. The dip of her head, the weight slumping her shoulders, made him feel even more like an ass.
He skirted the coffee table to crouch before her. She refused to meet his gaze.
“Sloane. I’m not going anywhere. I took this job, and I’m dedicated to keeping you safe. You’re my responsibility—I won’t walk away.”
Her eyes flicked up, the depths swirling with something he couldn’t name. That dark itch to feel her head tucked beneath his chin almost made him reach for her. He controlled the urge.
“You don’t have to like it. Many of my wards don’t like me, and that’s fine. I’m not trying to win a popularity contest—just keep you alive.”
Her lips twisted, and he latched his gaze there. For a full five heartbeats, he thought he’d lose the battle and kiss her. One brush…one taste.
One more kiss meant he’d never escape these emotions she stirred up in him.
She reached toward his injured arm. Long seconds ticked by, though her fingertips never met his skin. She withdrew her hand, but not before he caught it and crushed it in his own.
He latched on to her stare. “I’m fine. This is far from your fault, Sloane. You hear me?”
She ducked her head, though he saw the tears glistening in her eyes.
“Hell.”
He pulled her off the chair into his arms. She didn’t resist, which made him more concerned by how vulnerable she seemed. For a long moment, neither moved or spoke. Finally, he stood, drawing her to her feet with him.
“You know what my mother used to suggest on rainy days when we were bored?” he asked.
She tipped her head to look at him. “What?”
“Monopoly.”
Her lips twitched.
“I challenge you to a game.”
Her brow puckered. “I don’t remember the rules.”
“I do.” It took some effort, but he released her from his hold and let his arms drop to his sides. “Why don’t you clear those old magazines off the coffee table, and I’ll grab the game from the closet.”
She didn’t move at first, and he noted how she stared at the bandage on his arm. A woman like Sloane took responsibility for her sister and for other young girls, so it made sense she saw his injury as her fault. Backing away so she didn’t see him as anything more than her bodyguard would be best. Could he?
He crossed the room and located the board game in the closet, along with some old fishing tackle and a rubber ball on the floor. After he returned with the box, Sloane sat cross-legged on the floor while he pulled off the lid. It took a few minutes to
set up, and he reminded her of the rules as he sorted money.
They made two plays each before she spoke. “Do you play games with all your wards?”
He jerked his gaze up. Play games? What was she referring to? Peering at her closer, he attempted to read the meaning behind her words, though she gave nothing away. Not for the first time, he wondered how many of her responses were acts.
He decided honesty would be best. “I haven’t played Monopoly in years. The last time was right here, in this room. I was the shoe then too.” He dropped her a wink.
She rolled the dice and moved her scotty dog five spaces.
“Actually, I haven’t been in the field on a mission for a while.”
Her attention centered on him. Fuck, sometimes he forgot how stunning she was—especially when she looked at him like that.
“This is my first mission I’ve taken in months.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I was out with an injury, and then I guess I let myself get comfortable behind a desk.”
“What happened? Does the scar on your stomach have anything to do with it?”
He nodded. “My leg too. A situation got out of hand. I took a bullet in the stomach and one shattered my leg.”
She issued a soft breath. “That must have been scary.”
“I wasn’t scared on my own behalf, Sloane. I only feared for the ward I was protecting.”
She leaned forward, listening intently. “You have no regard for your own life, do you?”
He considered the question. “Of course I do. I just come further down the line.”
Her reddish brows shot up. “If your ward is first, who is second?”
“My brothers and sisters in the agency.” He reached for the dice. “I took an oath.”
Leaning her spine against the sofa, she seemed to mull over this statement for a minute. At last, she said, “I’m sorry for asking for your help with Lauren. I shouldn’t have—”
He tensed. “I never would have let you go alone. And I never will again.”