Page 13 of Savage Protector

His impressive chest rose and fell in one deep breath after another. Pursing his lips, he blew out an exasperated sigh, then tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “And why is that?” he asked, his voice softer.

“No. Not yet.” I shook my head firmly. “First, you tell me what he told you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me. This is my fucking life,” I spat, jumping to my feet while gripping the pillow tight because I couldn’t grip his damn throat. What was it with men thinking their word was law? I was sick to death of it. “Tell me. What was his excuse?”

His broad shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh. “He said you heard things you weren’t supposed to hear and found out too much information about his business. That a rival family is after you.”

“That is complete bullshit,” I snarled, even though I wasn’t surprised. What did I expect? For him to go around admitting what he had done to me? What he had threatened? “I was a prisoner in his house and his personal punching bag whenever he felt like it. I ran the first chance I got when he was called away at the last minute and had to jump on a plane to LA for some reason. I wouldn’t know because he never told me anything about his business.”

“I suspected that,” he grunted.

Hope bloomed in my chest, dangerous hope, hope I was afraid to entertain. Hope was a heartbreaker. Hope could get people killed. It could make them walk with eyes wide open into a situation they would ordinarily turn away from.

“Thank you,” I whispered, holding the pillow close to my chest. “Thank you for actually thinking about it and not, like, blindly believing him.”

“This can’t last forever,” he warned, glancing out the window toward the parking spaces beyond it. “He’s already wondering why it’s taking me so long. I have a reputation for getting the job done quickly.”

“Why didn’t you tell him as soon as you found me?”

Turning his head to the side meant giving me a view of his chiseled profile. “Don’t worry about that.”

Fine, then. I was too busy staring at the impeccable lines of his face to listen hard, anyway. Not to mention his tanned, corded arms once he shoved his hands into his pockets. His shoulders stretched the cotton T-shirt he wore when they rose and fell in a sigh. He was a walking distraction.

“There are more important questions that need answering, such as why you really ran. Don’t bother lying,” he warned. “I know him better than you think I do, and I know the world he lives in. If anything, that’s why I knew he wasn’t telling the truth. But I need the truth from you, now. I don’t care what it is.”

“I left him,” I blurted out. “He told me he’d kill me if I tried, but I couldn’t stay. It got to be too much.” The lump in my throat silenced me for a second, but I swallowed it back. “He got to be too much.”

He offered no reaction. I had no way of knowing how he felt about this. Or did I? Because I had seen how far he took things with that pig outside the casino. I couldn’t make sense of the guy, much less of the way I couldn’t help admiring his back and shoulders in a tight, black T-shirt. “How long were you with him?” he asked.

“Six months, two weeks, four days.” He turned his head slightly at my precision. “I kept track. The first couple of months were great. He love-bombed the hell out of me. I understand it now,” I added with a derisive snort at myself.

“And that ended.” It was not a question.

“Yes. It ended.” The pillow in my arms wasn’t nearly thick enough to absorb the pain now flowing through me like hot tar—slow-moving, thick, burning my insides. I had to get rid of it, to let it out, or it would kill me. “By then, he had convinced me to move in with him since he had so much more room than I did. He told me I wouldn’t have to work anymore. He would take care of me. I was so stupid.” One tear hit the pillow, then another.

“You were hopeful, not stupid. There’s a big difference.” He wasn’t unkind when he said it. My wounded heart was almost fooled into softening a little.

Instead, I sat up straighter and drew a deep breath. “How did you find me, and he hasn’t?” I asked.

“I have resources at my disposal that he doesn’t.”

That’s hard to believe. I had seen what the man was willing to spend. Money practically fell out of his pockets. “Like what?”

Looking over his shoulder, he growled, “I don’t have time for this.” When I tipped my head to the side, narrowing my eyes, he rolled his. “I know a lot of people who know a lot of people. They can access information most people can’t… traffic camera footage, bank records, that sort of thing. I was able to track you here with their help. Dominic doesn’t have those connections.”

I dropped onto the bed again, hard enough to bounce slightly. “I didn’t know I made it that easy for you to find me.”

“Again, it was easy for me, but not for just anyone. Consider yourself lucky.”

Lucky? “We have very different definitions of the word,” I muttered with a dry, humorless laugh. “My luck ran out a long time ago.”

“You think so? Because from where I’m standing, your luck has changed for the better. Look…” He sighed, clearly frustrated and impatient. “There’s something you need to understand. I’m here to help you. You might not trust me, but I need you to try while I work this out. You think you can do that?”

“It’s a good thing you’re not a doctor,” I pointed out, heartsick and reeling as my world continued to shrink around me. How was I supposed to go back to living a normal life? And all he could do was urge me to trust him without a hint of sympathy. “Because your bedside manner would probably suck.”

“Good thing, then.” He turned toward me, and I forgot to breathe for a second. What was it about him? Maybe the compassion and darkness fighting for control in his every movement, every line of his body as he held himself rigidly. “I have a few things to take care of back in Vegas, but you should be safe here so long as you’re smart. Can you be smart for a couple of days while I try to work this out?”