All I Want is You

by Cassie Cross

  I glance in Hunter’s direction and catch his smile before it disappears.

  “Is this the way you always operate? On the fly like this? You said earlier that you didn’t plan on introducing yourself to me the way you did.” A flurry of other questions fly into my mind even before he answers the ones I’ve just asked. “How did you find me? Would it creep me out?”

  “Not as much as the way the other guys found you.”

  My body shudders involuntarily. That this could’ve been going on for god knows how long without me knowing…an icy cold shiver works its way across my spine at the mere thought of being watched.

  Knowing what I know now, I realize that it’s going to take a long time for my life to go back to the way it was, assuming it ever does. Walking around oblivious, assuming I had my privacy…those days are over. But that’s a train of thought I can chase later, when I’m back at home in my bed and my life looks a little more like I remember it.

  “Then don’t tell me,” I say. “I don’t want to know.”

  Hunter tears his eyes from the road, watching me carefully. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure,” I tell Hunter. “Do my parents know about this?”

  Hunter shakes his head. “No. I thought it was best to limit the circle of people who knew what was happening, since we’re expecting to be able to take care of it pretty quickly. Did you want them to?”

  “No!” I say quickly, then take a deep breath to calm the panic. “No. They weren’t Carson’s biggest fans. They warned me of him, but I didn’t listen. I thought I knew him better than they did.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Turns out I was wrong.”

  “I understand that feeling.”

  “It’s a real bitch, isn’t it?”

  With a laugh, Hunter turns and looks at me. “It definitely is.”

  “You know, this is probably an awkward time to bring this up, but I can’t pay you for any of this,” I explain. “I mean, I don’t know what the hourly rate for private security is, but I do know that I don’t have it.”

  “It’s already taken care of.”

  I glance over at him with a raised brow. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that you don’t have to pay me.”

  “And your boss is okay with that?”

  He smiles. “I am the boss.”

  Oh, well…that was sexier than it should have been. I want to push him on it, but I decide not to, given that he’s put his life on the line for mine tonight. Asking about how he’s getting compensated seems rude.

  “I don’t really understand why these guys would come after me,” I admit. “Carson and I broke up a year and a half ago. It did not end well. That someone would try to use me as leverage over him…I don’t get it. He had to have said something that made them believe it, since I wouldn’t be here otherwise, but…”

  “There wasn’t a lot of time for him to get into the whole story,” Hunter says, drumming his fingertips across the steering wheel. “He didn’t come to me until it was almost too late. But I think that when someone’s as far gone as he is, they grab on to the last good thing they had and romanticize it, thinking that as long as they have that, they’ll keep a piece of the person they used to be. Maybe that’s what Carson is doing with you.”

  My stomach flips uneasily considering that possibility. It makes me feel unfathomably sad and angry all at once.

  “He didn’t want help, and I couldn’t give him what he wanted. I wouldn’t give him what he wanted, because it was too much.”

  Hunter nods sympathetically. “When someone’s drowning, you don’t have to let them take you down too.”

  The pain in his voice is unmistakable. “It sounds like you have some experience with this yourself.”

  “Generally, yes,” he admits. “Specifically with Carson.”

  That shocks the hell out of me, but the more I think about it, the more this whole situation makes sense. It’s a favor, not a job.

  “He’s a friend?”

  Hunter lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. “No. More like…a responsibility.”

  I’m not sure what to make of it, and I don’t want to pry, but I desperately want to know more.

  We’re quiet for a mile or two, then Hunter turns to me. “You aren’t going to ask?”

  “I want to know, but only if you want to tell me. If your experience with him is anything like mine, I imagine it’s not an easy story to tell.”

  “He was a friend of my brother’s,” Hunter says after a long pause. “Bobby liked to party, and Carson was new in town, looking for some friends. Bobby was always happy to get people involved in his lifestyle, and…it, uh…” Hunter anxiously rubs the back of his neck. “It didn’t end well for Bobby. I was hoping I could keep Carson from meeting the same fate.”

  After my own experience with Carson even before he hit rock bottom, I have nothing but admiration for someone who stuck around and tried pulling him out of the depths of his addiction.

  It’s mostly a losing battle, but every day you have to wake up ready to fight.

  “You’re a good person,” I tell him.

  I don’t know much about Hunter, but I do know that.

  “You know, you’re taking this pretty well.”

  It’s taken a good fifteen minutes for the heaviness between us to dissipate, but I’m glad to move on to a somewhat lighter topic. “It’s a little too surreal to digest at the moment,” I admit. “You probably won’t think I’m dealing so well when the fear insomnia kicks in tonight.”

  Hunter reaches out, places his warm hand on the sleeve of his jacket, which I’m still wearing. “You’re safe with me, you know that, right?”

  His eyes are incredibly earnest, even in the dark shadows of this beat-up old car. And the truth is, I do know that. Trust isn’t something that’s easily earned with me, but based on what he’s done for me this strange night, in these strange circumstances? Hunter definitely has mine.

  “I do know that.”

  He gives a decisive nod at my confirmation. “It’s okay if you need to freak out. You don’t have to pretend like you’re dealing if you’re not. I can listen, lend you a shoulder to cry on. Anything.”

  “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer, because I do,” I tell him. “But freaking out isn’t going to change the fact that tonight definitely didn’t go the way I hoped it would. And it won’t stop whoever’s shooting at me from shooting at me. It’ll just give you a distraction that you clearly don’t need, and it’s not going to make me feel better anyway.

  “So, don’t think that because I’m not freaking out that I’m not terrified. I am. I…was. But you asked me to trust you and proved that I could, so…that’s what I’m doing. Besides,” I continue, trying to break up my awkward ramble, “I figured after throwing your body on mine to keep me from getting shot that crying on your shoulder wasn’t the best way to repay you.”

  Hunter full-on smiles, more gorgeous than he has any right being at a time like this. “The offer stands whether you take it up or not,” he explains. “For as long as we’re together, and after, if you need.”

  “Thank you.”

  I don’t have much time to dwell on said offer, because Hunter takes a right onto a dimly lit street, and all of a sudden we’re back in some kind of civilization. It’s not much of a town from what little I’m able to make out, but it’s something. The neon sign for a diner lights up the corner at the end of a long row of what looks like a lot of empty storefronts. Another right takes us down a street littered with a few houses here and there, long stretches of road in between them.

  A left turn and a short ride down a narrow, bumpy gravel road later, Hunter brings the car to a stop in front of a cabin that looks like it has dubious structural integrity.

  “Stay here for a sec,” Hunter says, taking the keys and locking me in behind him.

  I have absolutely no desire to venture out of this car until he gives me the okay, so I do what he tells me to.

  Hunter w
alks along the perimeter of the place. It’s so tiny that he’s barely out of sight for more than a few seconds. He returns to the car, pops the trunk, and rummages around back there for a while. The car creaks as Hunter lowers the trunk lid, and then he opens my door.

  “C’mon,” he says with a gentle smile, holding out his hand.

  He pulls me up, and I shuffle my feet a little, thankful to have some good blood flow after being stuck in the car for god knows how long. He makes his way to the front door, a huge duffel slung over his broad shoulder, dragging a cooler in tow.

  He jiggles a few keys in a few locks, and when the door opens with a high-pitched squeal, he enters a code on the touch pad on the wall.

  “What is this place?” I ask, stepping over the threshold.

  “It’s a safe place,” he replies, dropping the bag by the floor and taking the cooler over to the kitchen, which is on the far side of the main living area—what appears to be the majority of this cabin. “And it’s what we’re calling home for the foreseeable future.”

  Even though it’s a little musty, it’s a whole hell of a lot nicer on the inside than you’d guess by looking at the outside. Don’t judge a book by its cover and all that.

  The cabin resembles a studio apartment, with a fairly modern-looking kitchen on the far side of the room. There’s a little bathroom off to the right. The walls are painted in a homey yellow, and there are pictures—photos of people and landscapes—hanging here and there.

  There are worse places to stay when you’re running for your life.

  Only problem is, there’s just one bed.

  4

  Hunter

  I keep an eye on Hayley as I unload the contents of the cooler into the fridge. She stands in the middle of the great room, hands twisted together, taking in her surroundings.

  “What do you think of the place?” I ask, dropping a bag of apples into the crisper.

  “It’s nicer than I expected,” Hayley replies. Her eyes immediately widen.

  She’s so refreshingly honest that I can’t help but smile. “I’m glad you think so. I want you to be comfortable here, so make yourself at home.”

  She blushes a pretty pink. “I didn’t mean to insult the place,” she explains quickly. “It’s just that looking at it from the outside, I wasn’t expecting it to be so nice on the inside.” She tugs a strand of hair behind her ear, presses her lips together, and looks down at the ground. “I didn’t make it any better, did I?”

  “It’s fine,” I tell her, putting a carton of orange juice on the top shelf.

  “We seem pretty off the grid. I can’t imagine anyone tracking me down here, so if your goal was to make me feel safe, then you succeeded. That it’s a nice place is just a bonus.”

  “It’s not much to look at right now,” I tell her. “It has a lot of sentimental value, though. I can’t get down here as much as I’d like, so I’m only able to work on it every once in a while. I’ve done what I could on the inside. Now I’ve got to work on the outside.”

  Hayley’s eyes brighten with surprise. “This is yours?”

  I nod slowly, totally amused. “Did you think we were at a random cabin in the woods, or…”

  “No,” she replies quickly, followed by a shrug. “I don’t know? I thought this was a bodyguard network safe house or something.”

  I laugh. “No. We do have a couple of safe houses we can use, but this was a little too last-minute to count on that. I had to do some quick thinking with you.”

  “Ah, I bet you say that to all the girls you bring here,” she teases.

  “You’re the only one I’ve ever brought here.” The admission slips out unexpectedly and hangs heavily in the air.

  We stare at each other a beat too long, then she breaks the silence with an amused huff. “You have Fort Knox-level security at this cabin in the woods you never bring people to?” She hitches her thumb over her shoulder, in the direction of the security system’s keypad on the wall by the front door.

  I close the fridge and cross my arms over my chest. “You don’t know much about Fort Knox, do you?”

  Hayley grins.

  I walk over to the door and grab the black duffel I carried in with us, then drop it on the bed.

  “What’s in there?” Hayley asks.

  “One of my female agents guessed at your sizes and packed some things for you to wear.”

  She slides her thumbs along the straps of her dress. “You don’t like what I’m wearing?”

  She’s teasing me, but I can’t help myself; my gaze travels across her body. The dress teases me with the fullness of her breasts, makes me want to hike up the skirt and lick along her curves. Liking it is a total understatement, and it’s probably for the best if she changes out of it immediately.

  “I like it very much,” I tell her, my voice a little choked.

  She bites her bottom lip and looks down at the ground as her fingers play with the fabric. “Look, Hunter…we met in a pretty unconventional way, and I don’t want you to feel bad about what you had to do in order to keep me safe. I really do appreciate it,” she says as she takes a step back. “What happened at the club—me hitting on you, you pretending to hit on me—and after, in the alley, I just…I wanted to let you know that there are no hard feelings since none of that was real.”

  It’s unconscionable to let her go on thinking I didn’t mean what I did, what I said, but her life is in my hands. It’s better to not complicate things.

  “It was real for me, is what I meant. I wasn’t…” She shakes her head, seeming a little frustrated. “I’m not expecting anything from you, is all. Not that I think that you think I was, but just in case. I’m going to stop talking now.”

  She looks at me with hopeful eyes, and it takes everything I have in me to stick with my plan of not making this complicated. It would help me out greatly if she covered up a little.

  “Here,” I tell her, unzipping the duffel. “You must be tired.”

  “I’m kind of tired,” she admits a little too brightly. “But I’m not sure I’m going to be able to sleep.”

  “You need to try.” It’s been a long night, and the crash is going to hit her sooner than later. “There’s something in there for you to sleep in.”

  Hayley digs through the clothes, placing them in a neat stack on the bed. “Well, your agent did a great job at picking out stuff I would like,” she says, placing her hands on her hips. “But she did an awful job at putting pajamas in there.”

  “Really?”

  She nods. “Really.”

  I take a deep breath, then walk over to my chest of drawers and pull out a T-shirt. Seeing her in one of my shirts isn’t going to help this situation at all. I’m tempted just to ask her to sleep in the damn dress. “Here,” I say, handing it over. “You can wear this. The bathroom’s over there.”

  She snags a small toiletry kit from the duffel, takes the T-shirt and walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

  With Hayley occupied in the bathroom, I change into an old pair of sweatpants I had in my bottom drawer, then toss some sheets on the floor next to the door for me to sleep on. With nothing left to do, and impatient for Hayley to come out, I sit on the edge of the bed and text Davis to see if there’s any news.

  He replies almost immediately. We’re making headway quicker than I thought we would.

  I’m so wrapped up in my reply that I don’t hear Hayley coming out of the bathroom. Instead, I feel her eyes on me from all the way across the room.

  I look up and see her staring, mouth slightly open. I’d be amused at her reaction to seeing me shirtless if I wasn’t so caught up in the way she’s swimming in my T-shirt. The gray cotton cuts off on her thigh, just this side of indecent.

  “Shirt okay?” I ask, voice raspy as she tosses her dress over my jacket on the back of the chair by the door.

  “Yes, thank you,” she replies, seeming unsure of herself.

  “I’m gonna sleep on the floor. You can take the bed.
”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  She seems a little disappointed, which makes my gut twist in a way I’d rather not think about with her standing in front of me looking the way she does.

  “Oh my god,” she says, rushing over. “You’re bleeding!”

  I look down at the gash on my bicep and give a little shrug. “It’s not bleeding anymore.”

  Hayley’s eyes widen, and she places her palm on her chest. “You got shot?” She gently slides her fingertips along the swollen flesh around the wound, her touch soothing the sting that’s persisted the past few hours.

  “I got grazed,” I insist. “I’ve been shot before, and this is nothing.” Ruined my favorite shirt, but that’s about it. I place my hand over hers, giving it a gentle pat. “Don’t worry about it, it’s part of the job.”

  “It doesn’t look like nothing to me,” Hayley argues. “And it shouldn’t be part of the job!” She examines it closely with a cute look that quickly kills my annoyance with her blowing this out of proportion. “Are you just going to leave it open like that?”

  “I cleaned it up with the first-aid kit while you were in the bathroom.” This is mostly true. I did wipe around it with an alcohol pad.

  “Shouldn’t you at least put a bandage on it so it doesn’t get infected?”

  I playfully roll my eyes. It’s nothing, really, but it’s nice to have someone worry. To have someone take care of me. It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone in my life who did either.

  “Where’s the first-aid kit?” she asks.

  I make a play of reluctantly nodding toward the kitchen counter. She walks over, plucks out some sterile gauze and medical tape, then plants herself on the bed, next to me. The shirt she’s wearing rides up dangerously high, so I studiously examine the floor in an attempt to remove temptation.

  “You should’ve said something.” She rips open a packet of gauze.

  “There were more important things going on. If it’s a choice between tending to a flesh wound and keeping you safe, I’m keeping you safe.”