Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Of course, I know that. I know he will never hurt me.
His hand still feels heavy when it comes down on my shoulder. He doesn’t curl his fingers into me or around my upper arm or anything. There’s nothing forced. It’s just his hand and the slightest pressure. It’s comforting. I want to close my eyes and let him guide me, let him tell me what to do now, and let him inform, plan, order, and save me.
It’s all wrong, but I need a minute to catch my breath. No, I need at least an hour before I’m not a wreck. I’m still barely holding it together, and by holding it together, I mean breathing and not barfing.
“Let’s go inside.” His voice is deep and kind, but it’s the tone that gets me. It hits me deep in the belly like an oddly soothing bomb blast, and I know how insane that sounds. “I think you need to tell me everything.”
Why the heck would I do that?
He guides me with that protective hand, and as we walk through the door, I realize he’s angled to completely shield my body with his. He’s in natural protector mode, and I find myself doing more than just giving in. I want to be protected. I want him to be the shield that stands between me and the world until I can pick myself up. It’s not something I’ve ever asked for. I thought being tough was the only way to survive and get through all this. Even if I wasn’t tough, I thought I could fake it until I was, even if I was just faking it for myself.
Okay, myself and my family.
“How much is everything?” I whisper, my voice coming out all funky and wrong. It’s as wobbly as my legs and stomach.
“I need to know all of it.” He locks the door and double-checks all the locks even after he just slid them into place. The first thing he does is pick my phone off the kitchen counter and check that all the cameras are functioning.
It’s all very levelheaded and…professional.
Like he’s done this before.
Like maybe this is what he does in his other life.
I find just enough of my sass to throw my head back and try and be brave. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”
He nods and checks the cameras one more time before setting my phone down. Then, he crosses his arms so his muscles bulge in that bloody sinful T-shirt. “You don’t have to, but you will because I’m going to keep you safe. I’m going to make this right for you and help you get your life back.”
Chapter eight
Beau
Everything I thought I knew about this woman was wrong. I’m now dead certain of it.
All this time, we’ve been after the wrong person. She didn’t change her identity and run from her old life to lay low until she could make good on her escape. All this time, she’s been the fall guy…err…girl, and the real evil has been out there running wild and free in the world.
Why didn’t I see this coming?
Right. Probably because of the mountain of evidence that I was shown before I agreed to this job.
Ignacia is trying to pick herself up in the kitchen by doing normal things like turning on the kettle and throwing two god-awful chai tea bags into two of her pretty floral mugs.
I’m over here on the other side, pretending to be waiting with a level head, while inside, I’m a hot, fuming wreck. That bastard could have abused her physically, emotionally, or in other ways. He’d obviously hurt her because she was shocked he found her. I know what a frightened, cornered animal looks like. I’ve seen that expression on too many of my clients when I get there. A few weeks in, they start to reclaim their lives back. I don’t do it for them. I just give them the tools to help. Also, knowing I’m there to stand between them and whatever dangers and trials they’re facing truly helps.
It’s rare that I have to enter into bone-crunching mode. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever broken a single bone unless it was in my own body, and the few times have been sports-related scenarios. That little douchebag brought all the impulses for carnage out of me. I would have loved to pick him up, snap him in half, and let both those halves beg this woman for her forgiveness.
Alas, I know that’s not the way problems are solved, even if they fucking should be. I didn’t do anything but protect Ignacia like she was a client or—or Sam. That’s her real name. But I have no right to use it. She hasn’t given me permission. She hasn’t given me anything about her real life yet, but she’s going to because I asked. Because she needs help. There are zero options right now.