10. Christian
CHRISTIAN
Witchita, July, Present
G oddamn, she’s beautiful.
“Get in the car, Mila.”
Poor thing is fucking terrified, which could have something to do with the man I just ran over—I didn’t buy this car with a special reinforced steel bumper for nothing. Dear ol’ Jerry’s going to be feeling it if he wakes up from his little nap in the middle of the street.
It could also be because the man she’s been running from for nearly six months finally caught up to her.
“W-what?” she stammers as screams erupt from across the street to where the dipshit’s body crumpled. I’m sad to say he moves, meaning he didn’t die.
Asshole.
“Unless you want to wait here.”
Sirens a few blocks away is what gets her moving. She stumbles to her feet, clutching her backpack and hopping in the car. As soon as the door shuts, I’m peeling away, watching a few men try to chase after us in the rearview.
“Y-you—”
“Seat belt,” I order, not taking my eyes off the road. I’m going faster than I should be, especially with her in the car. She sucks in a wheezy breath, and I side-eye her. “And breathe.”
She’s shaking and a tear slips down her cheek, but she reaches for the seat belt, clasping it around her.
“Mila.”
She sucks in another breath, laying her head back against the seat and closing her eyes as if when she opens them, I’ll be gone.
“You-you hit that man,” she croaks, her hand resting over her racing heart.
Should have backed back over his ass, too.
Pulling up to a curb, I cut the lights, reversing right between two buildings in a narrow alleyway on a deserted street.
“Water.”
She stares at my open hand for a moment, still in shock, before I give up and just take the water bottle from her.
Exiting the car, I go to the front and pour it over the hood. When It’s finished, I toss the bottle in the back before going to the trunk and grabbing a new plate. When I return, Mila’s still jittery, though she’s breathing, at least. She stares at me with wide gray eyes when I fall into the driver’s seat like she can’t decide if she wants to run from the man who tried to kidnap her or run from me.
“Changed the license plate.”
“And . . . the water?”
I shrug. “He got blood on my hood.”
“You hit him.”
I look at her, my gaze sweeping over the dirt on her leggings, her hair in a wild array of tangles, and the tears still drying on her cheeks.
“He deserved it.”
“Is . . . he dead?” she asks after a moment.
“Hopefully.”
“How did you know I needed help?”
Because I know everything about you.
There’s a moment of silence when an ambulance passes, undoubtedly going to help Mr. Handsy where the tension is so thick, you could cut it with a butter knife. Mila shivers and even though I know it’s probably not from the cold, I turn the heat up.
“I would say watching a man chase you down the sidewalk was probably the first clue.” And the fact that I’ve been following her all day. “Where to?”
She stares at me.
“Mila,” I say calmly. “Where to?”
“What are you doing here, Christian?”
“Saving your ass, of course.”
“Asshole,” she grumbles, looking away from me. I watch another tear slip down her cheek, and she hastily wipes it away.
“I guess some things never change.”
“If you’re here to take me back, I’m not going.”
Another moment of heavy silence rings in the air between us. Five years of memories. A whole lot of fucking trauma. A .9mm bullet and the wound to prove it.
I cock a brow at her, a rush of tension flowing through me. Honey, vanilla, and fucking her . The combination that’s going to be the death of me someday.
I’d once told her to forget about me and move on with her life. I never expected her to actually fucking try.
Fucking poetic, isn’t it?
“Where are you staying?”
She stares at me as if the concept is foreign.
“Mila. Where have you been staying?” I ask again, and her gaze narrows.
“I thought I was never going to see you again.”
I fix her with a bored stare. We aren’t getting into that tonight. She’ll have plenty of time to hate me later.
When she realizes she’s not getting an answer out of me, she falls back into the seat with a huff.
“Just let me out.”
“I can’t do that, Mila.”
Pulling out onto the street, I merge with what little traffic is out at this time of night and start toward the motel. She doesn’t think to ask how I know where to go, and I’m glad.
Instead, she’s chewing on her bottom lip, glancing around us nervously as if SWAT is going to pop out of the manhole cover beside us at the light.
“You’re acting suspicious,” I tell her when she checks behind us for the third time.
“Sorry,” she rolls her eyes. “It’s my first vehicular homicide.”
“It’s only vehicular homicide if he dies. He’ll live. Painfully, for a while, but unfortunately, he’ll live.”
“You just said earlier you hope he died.”
“Hope and fact are two different things, little devil.”
“Don’t—don’t call me that.”
“Too far?”
She glowers at me, cheeks burning a pretty pink.
“Fuck you, Christian.”
“Good girl. The scared and helpless act was getting old.”
“I don’t want you here.”
“You shouldn’t be out alone.”
“Right,” she growls, and I love that I’m getting under her skin. It almost feels like old times. “I’m working on my teleportation skills. I’m sure I’ll have it down in no time.”
I cock a brow at her, and her cheeks burn when she turns away from me.
Little brat.
“People are dangerous, Mila. What do you think those men would have done to you if they would have gotten ahold of you?”
She rolls her eyes for the second time since she’s gotten into my car, and I have half a mind to pull her into the back seat and make them roll for real.
“I’m well aware of what they would have done.”
“Are you?”
“What do you want?” she snaps, angry tears pooling in her eyes. “Unlock the door.”
I chuckle darkly. If only she fucking knew . . .
“No.”
I barely register her slapping me until the sting bleeds across my cheek. I run my tongue over my teeth, and her eyes widen at the dark chuckle falling from my lips.
Fuck, I’ve never been so hard in my life. It’s been too fucking long.
“I’m sorry,” she breathes, backing up until her back rests against the door, her eyes brimming with tears. “Just let me go.”
She’ll learn not to apologize for defending herself, but for now, I relish in the soft purr of her voice, filled with fear for what I might do. There was a time when all I wanted to do was protect her. That need is still there, but it’s also tinged with the desire to see her beg for me. Plead with me.
Need me.
“Let you go? We’re just getting started, sweetheart.”
She glowers, tears gathered in her long eyelashes. Like a kitten denied milk.
“What do you want?”
“You.”
She shakes her head. “No, you don’t. You’re here for a reason, and we both know that isn’t me.”
“Does it matter?”
I know I’m being cruel, but I’ve had six months to fantasize about this exact moment. When the scent of her honey and vanilla is back in my space, clouding my judgment. When she’s staring at me with those eyes like fucking moonlight, and I can finally reach out and touch her.
She’ll never know what I did. She’ll never know what it took to leave in the first place.
“Forget about me,” she pleads, soft gray gaze desperate.
And then she pushes the door open and runs before I can even think about reaching for her. I lean back in my seat, watching her take off down a nearby alleyway.
I’ll let her run and tire herself out even more. It’ll ensure a smooth flight to where we’re going.
Unfortunately for her, this chase is over. Not that it’s not been fun, but I’m getting tired of seeing her starve herself. It’s time to stop running and pay the piper.
She put a bullet in my chest. Now, she’ll pay for it with her life.
I chuckle darkly to myself, shooting off a text before I pull away from the stop light. I’ll let her think she got away. Let her pack in a frenzy. Maybe I’ll even give her a head start.
Either willingly or by force, this ends tonight. Mila Carpenter will be mine whether she likes it or not.
I’m a Cross; when I want something, I make it happen.
“See you soon, little devil.”