by Sienna Blake
I see these things too. For some strange reason I see my safety. I feel it radiating out from him when I’m near. His width is my shield, his arms that wrap all the way around me are my shelter, his mouth a balm that smooth across my every ache, even the ones no one can see. He protects me. Who protects me from him?
I break eye contact and look away. I can’t stand to look at him any longer. It hurts too much. I go to rub my eyes but my left hand is caught on something that clinks. I frown as I look down. A pair of silver cuffs chain my wrist to the side of the seat.
Muthafucker.
“What the hell, Caden?”
I can see a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “To make sure you don’t run. I didn’t think you’d let me put them on you while you were awake so…”
My mouth drops open. “I am not going to sit here cuffed like some kind of criminal. Undo them right now.”
“Nope.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
I start tugging furiously at the seat with both hands. I’m going to break these damn things off if it’s the last thing I−
“Stop that.”
“Let me go then.”
“Not a chance. You’re in my custody. Under my protection. The cuffs stay.”
“I don’t want your God damn protection.” Liar. “Let me go right this minute or I’ll scream.”
“No one can hear you, sweetheart.”
“Except for you.” I inhale, lean forward and let out all my frustration into a long, loud scream right into his ear.
I can hear Caden cursing over my banshee shrieking. He jerks away, his right shoulder coming up to try and block his eardrum from my assault.
He swerves the car and I’m thrown back into my seat, the rest of my scream lodging in my throat. He brakes hard at the side of the road. I fly forward and I think I’m going to hit the dashboard. His arm is there to hold me back, protecting me.
Dust flies around the car, fogging up the windows in a burnt orange haze.
“Jesus, Caden, what the−”
He grabs my face with his hand, shutting me up. His fingers dig into my flesh firmly but not enough to hurt. “You listen here and listen good.” He glares at me. “You are getting my protection whether you like it or not and I’m keeping you safe even if it God damn kills me. I shall do so however I see fit. If I see fit to handcuff you to the seat, which I do by the way, I will handcuff you to the God damn seat. And you will sit there and you will shut up and you will accept it. You got that?”
A lump develops in my chest right where my traitor heart sits and I struggle to breathe around it. For a moment, as I gaze into his eyes, shiny with emotion, I could swear that he cares about me more than just a job. I could swear it. I nod my head as much as I can while being trapped in his hands.
His features soften and I become too aware of how close our faces are and how his eyes have found my mouth. I don’t dare move. He swallows and his fingers loosen. I swear my skin is so sensitized to his touch I can feel the loops and whirls of his fingerprints on my skin. I fight a shiver.
“Are you hurt?” he asks as he glances over me.
“I’m okay.”
“Are you going to behave?”
“Maybe. Are you going to take these cuffs off me?”
“No.”
There is no point arguing with him. I slump back in my seat, crossing my arms as best as I can with one hand cuffed to the seat. “Don’t think you’ve won, Caden Thaine.”
He snorts. “Never. I know I can’t win with you.”
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
He pulls the car onto the road and we’re off again. I glare at the rushing landscape outside my window, cursing every tree and every shrub that flies past us. I glance at the clock on the dashboard. It’s just past nine, which means that only hours ago, Caden and I were dumping a body in the river after I had shot dead a man who worked for Jacob Tyrell, the man I’m running from. I had to kill him. I swear. I had no choice. He would have taken us to Jacob if I didn’t which would have meant a very painful death. Him or me. You would have done the same if you were me.
It still doesn’t make the guilt go away completely. It’s still there underneath the surface like a stain that has sunk into the depths of the carpet, fading only from sight.
Jesus, was that only earlier this morning?
A few hours before that, Caden had abducted me from my boss Dixie’s apartment. Or should I say, old boss. I can’t go back to work for her anymore.
And a few hours before that, I had stumbled into a drug smuggling operation owned by the Tyrells and found Caden amongst them.
Did that all really happen in less than twelve hours? How everything can change in just one day.
Caden clears his throat. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Why do you care?” I hear him growl and I quickly add, “Yeh, I slept okay.” Sleep was beautiful. Peaceful. Sleep is the only reprise from my life.
“Good.” He taps on the steering wheel in an off-beat. “Good.”
I rub my arms as if I’m trying to rub off the awkwardness that sits around Caden and me. It feels weird and I hate it. I don’t know what has caused it.
I lie. I do know.
I remember Caden’s admission last night… he’s a police officer working undercover. He found me so he could find Jacob. I’m a job. And he’s part of the system that I hate. Part of the very system that screwed me over in the first place.
You see, when I ran for the very first time, I didn’t run away…I ran to the police. They told me they would protect me. They told me that they would arrest Jacob and put him behind bars where he couldn’t hurt me or anyone else anymore. They told me, if I testified, they would put him away for life.
They lied.
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Acknowledgements
To my family, who love and support me. P.S. You’re not supposed to be reading this book!
To my gorgeous friends (you know who you are), who understand when I say, “Sorry, I can’t, I’m writing” for the umpteenth time, but continue to love me and invite me to things anyway.
To my beta readers, Caroline, Dani, and Jacqui, for your priceless feedback.
To my editor, Christie. Thank you for showing such enthusiasm from the start. And for working on this book even though it is SO different from all my previous ones.
To the writers in my life, especially the Sunflowers; thank you for your advice, encouragement and support. It means the world to me. P.S. Keep writing.