Chapter 3
Emory
Iturn all the locks and bolts on my apartment door. Then I walk into my kitchen, flick on the kettle, and collapse onto a chair.
Now I’m alone, it all washes over me.
My father’s old bodyguard is in jail. And he got shot.
Because of me.
It was so awful. When I looked in the rearview mirror, right before I screeched onto the highway, he was facedown in the dirt, a bunch of guards beating on him with batons.
Please let him be okay.
I still can’t get my head around what he did. He managed to break out of those heavy chains, and got himself shot because he needed to warn me…
His words bounce around my head.
You’re not safe here.
But how does he know?
And what’s he doing in a jail for dangerous prisoners?
I get up to make the tea, then I pace up and down, arms wrapped around my body.
He said he’s coming back for me. But how, when he’s locked up in a high security prison?
And what am I to him anyway?
Just his ex-employer’s little daughter.
Maxim was so kind to me when I was small.
I remember I used to clamber all over him, and he’d just sit there, like a tree, and let me do it.
And when I was older, he built me a treehouse.
He used to work on it when he was off shift.
He made it real nice and cozy, with a little table and a set of chairs to entertain my friends.
I didn’t have any real friends in those days—there were no other kids in the complex—but he always talked to my stuffed animals like they were my friends.
I’d invite him to tea parties, and he’d sit on the little platform, cross-legged, his huge bulk taking up half the space, pretending to drink from a tiny teacup.
Then one day, he left. He told me he was going on a long vacation. For a while, I was hurt. I thought he’d abandoned me, and I cried myself to sleep at night. But when I got older, I realized my father had fired him.
The one person in my life who’d cared for me.
I actually used to have a little-kid crush on him.
Suddenly, I’m smiling at the memory. He was kinda scary-looking—so huge, with a broad, hard face and fierce eyes—but I used to think he looked real handsome in the sharp suit he wore when he was on duty.
And I think I may have asked him if he’d marry me.
Gosh, how embarrassing. Hopefully he’s forgotten that part.
He looks different now, of course. There was so much sweat and dirt on his face, it was hard to trace the path of the years.
But there were a couple of big scars that hadn’t been there before—one through his cheek, the other cutting into the corner of his lower lip.
That massive, muscular body trussed up in an orange jumpsuit and shackled with heavy chains.
And those eyes, burning with desperation.
He’s still Maxim, though. Still the guy I thought of as my hero. Whereas—
I go to the bathroom, take off my heavy glasses and remove the contact lenses and false eyelashes. I swipe off my heavy eyeliner, then stare at my reflection in the mirror. I look way less badass without my disguise. And these days, it’s a shock to see the natural blue of my irises.
He recognized me.
With no hesitation. Not only do I look nothing like myself, but I was just a kid last time he saw me. Yet he knew me, right away.
Not possible, my rational brain tells me.
A strange feeling passes through me.… that tingle I felt when we locked eyes today.
A connection.
Like we belong together. Like all this time, we’ve been waiting to find our way back to each other.
I shake my head. What a stupid thought—
I have to go see him.
The thought hits me like a bolt of lightning.
I’ll find the prison where he’s being held, and go visit him.
It’s not a smart thing to do, by a long shot. But I have to know he’s okay.
My gut knots up. But if I do this, I’ll expose myself to more danger. I’ll probably have to show some ID. If my name gets flagged, I could be followed back to Perdue…
My thoughts churn and churn. I should get to bed.
I live alone right now, ever since my old roommate, Elinor, moved out. And that’s the way I like it. I can just about make the rent by myself—it’s not like I have a ton of expenses with my lifestyle—and I’ve got too many secrets and neuroses to share my space with someone else.
I check the front door three times; check the locks on the windows, three times. Check I’ve turned off the stove—also three times. I never used to have OCD, never used to be so darn nervy.
I climb into bed, and pull the covers up to my chin.
I’m so sick of being scared. Of constantly looking over my shoulder.
The day I went to the hairdresser’s and got my hair bobbed and dyed red, some of the weight lifted from me.
But it wasn’t enough. The government put me in witness protection, found me a little house, a new identity.
But they don’t understand what my father is like, how far his reach extends.
How ruthless and vengeful he is. I knew I couldn’t trust them to protect me.
After one of the agents handling his case disappeared in mysterious circumstances, I ran out on them.
Somehow, I found my way to Perdue Town. I’ve been so lucky getting the job at Sinner’s, and a friend like Elinor, and this little apartment. And I’ve even started sleeping at night.
But now—
A full-body wave of panic goes through me.
Maxim understood right away that my disguise wasn’t enough to keep me safe.
He says he’s coming back for me.
But how?
Please let him be okay.
I say it over and over, like a mantra.
There’s a blizzard blowing outside. Hailstones slamming against the windows. A brutal winter storm is raging…
My eyes snap open. I take in the dark ceiling of my bedroom. The silence.
There’s no blizzard. It’s midsummer. I was pouring in sweat today while I was serving the prisoners.
I was just having a nightmare, one of many. The clock on my nightstand says 4:48am. It’ll be getting light soon. I close my eyes again—
Tap, tap!
What was that? I jerk upright.
Tap, tap.
There it is again—something hitting the window.
Just like hailstones.
Ice shoots down my spine.
But not.
I want to pull the covers over my head and curl into a ball. So goddamn sick of being scared.
Something flips in me.
I leap out of bed and tear the curtains wide open.
And I scream as a pair of pale eyes stare back at me.
My eyelids flutter. It’s still dark and I’m lying on my back. There’s a smell of the outdoors and a rich masculine scent. I feel like I’m being embraced in someone’s arms.
What the hell?
My eyes open wide and I let out a gasp.
There’s a man’s face, peering into mine. Rugged. Strong features, with a broad, angular jaw. A scar cutting across his cheek and chin. Cropped dark hair and a five o’clock shadow.
Maxim?
“Emory, it’s okay. Relax,” a familiar deep voice says.
Adrenaline pumping through my system, I wriggle out of his arms and pull myself upright.
“W-what are you doing here?” My head snaps to the window. It’s closed, just like I left it.
“I climbed in,” he says. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
He’s wearing a white T-shirt and bright orange pants. The lower half of a prison jumpsuit. “You broke out of jail?”
He reaches for me but I pull away. My heart is going so fast, it’s making me dizzy.
“I needed to get to you.”
“B-but why? How did you—?” I exhale slowly. “You were right—I am in hiding. I didn’t expect anyone to recognize me.”
His gaze drifts over me, and his eyes turn tender. “You’ve done real well. It’s a good disguise, Emory. But it’s not enough. They can still get to you.”
I shake my head confusedly, desperate to understand. Did he follow me all the way from the chain gang? It doesn’t make sense. The last I saw of him, he was being shot. “Your shoulder—” I cry.
He pushes up the sleeve of his T-shirt, and my mouth falls open. Right there, at the top of his massive shoulder, where I saw the bullet entering—where blood spattered from the wound—is a small, old-looking scar.
“I heal fast,” he says.
“No one could heal that fast.”
“Emory—”
I shiver. Every time he says my name, my eyes automatically lock onto his. It’s like he’s calling directly to my soul. Like there’s an irresistible force connecting us. And I love hearing my old name, my real name on his tongue. I haven’t heard it for such a long time.
Maxim’s voice is tense, and I sense he’s about to tell me something important.
“I’m a shapeshifter. You know what that is?”
“Tell me,” I murmur, wanting him to say the words. Some layers of memory are beginning to separate out. Moments from the past—where he seemed to have fur spilling from the cuffs of his suit. Where his canines seemed longer than a man’s should be.
“It means I have an animal, right here.” He lays a massive hand on his chest. “I’m half-man, half-wolf.
Sometimes the man is in charge, but other times, the wolf takes over.
It means I’m strong. Almost impossible to kill with a bullet.
And I have enhanced senses. That’s how I found you here. I followed your scent.”
“You followed my scent?” I echo. “All that way?” I know it’s screwy that out of all the things he’s just told me, this is the thing I’m hanging onto.
He nods. “I’ll never leave you alone again, Emory.” His light-colored eyes blaze with intensity. With… yearning?
My breath shudders in my throat. “Why? What am I to you?”
“We’re connected. Don’t you feel it?”
I get that tingle again. I do.
I study his features. Time has made his face more rugged. Now his face is no longer covered in dirt, I can see a bunch of smaller scars, too. But, to me, he’s even more handsome than before.
I feel like… I want to be held in his arms. Like I want those firm lips to press to my own. Like I want to feel him deep inside me.
But he’s Maxim. My childhood hero. I shouldn’t feel this way about him.
“I’m going to protect you,” he says. “Keep you safe.”
Protect me. Okay, that’s what he means. Just like he used to.
But he just broke out of jail.
“You came all this way.” I indicate his bright orange pants. “Wasn’t it dangerous?”
He shrugs. “It was nothing.”
“But won’t they come after you?”
He sighs. “They will. I was working undercover. I did a deal with the DA in exchange for my brother’s freedom. He’s in a shifter max-security prison.”
I blink, absorbing the information. Sounds like the Maxim I knew—generous, self-sacrificing.
He reaches for my hand, and I let him take it.
Electricity seems to flow between us. I used to grab onto his hand when I was a kid, wrapping all my tiny fingers around one of his huge ones.
But this is different. I imagine those huge, callused hands stripping off my clothes, running all over my bare body. Touching my breasts, my—
I’m so glad he can’t read my thoughts. Can’t tell that there’s a very inappropriate ache between my legs right now.
“You need to leave with me, now, Emory. There’s someplace I can take you, that no one knows about. You’ll be safe.”
Safe. That sounds like heaven. And if Maxim promises I’ll be safe, I believe him—
A stab of realization hits me in the gut. “Wait—you said your brother is in prison?”
He nods.
“So, he won’t get out if you don’t hold up your end of the bargain?”
“It’s done.”
I gasp. “Maxim! You have to go back!”
“Forget about it. I made my decision.” He holds his hand up to counter any arguments. “You can live a sweet life someplace quiet,” he continues. “Out in nature. Reading books.” He crooks one of his thick eyebrows. “You still like reading books, right?”
“More than anything,” I admit. “But I find it hard to relax these days.”
That look of tenderness fills his eyes again. “I’ll help you relax. Get back to your passions.”
My heart thuds. Is he imagining staying with me in this secret place?
“Go pack a bag and let’s get out of here.”
I close my eyes and think about being with Maxim. Protected. Connected with him.
Then I think about all the danger he’s going to be in if he stays with me. How his brother will be stuck in shifter max security jail, whatever that is.
“I can’t,” I tell him. “I have a life here. My boss needs me in the kitchen.”
He stills, then shakes his head in incomprehension. “Your safety is the most important thing. Your boss can find a new employee.”
I sigh. “I just can’t, Maxim. I’m sick of running.”
He gets to his feet with a growl of frustration, then he paces around the room, hands laced behind his head. “That’s your final answer?”
I nod. “It is.”
He stops pacing and his lips quirk. “Guess I’ll just have to be your personal bodyguard.”
“No—!” I yelp. I didn’t anticipate this. “Not happening.”
He shakes his head, pretending he’s sad. “It’s one or the other. Your choice.”
His jaw is jutting out, and he looks hard, uncompromising. There was a reason why he was my father’s most senior bodyguard.
“And what if I choose to just take my chances instead?”
“No!” he barks. “Your safety is my responsibility, now, Emory.”
I stare at him in awe. He’s so powerful. Used to getting things his own way.
After being alone for so long, having to choose between a series of shitty options, being bossed around like this is…. refreshing.
And not only that—it’s as arousing as hell. I can feel that my panties are damp and my nipples have turned to aching pebbles.
Oh, shit—and I’m only wearing this flimsy tank-top and shorts. Cheeks warming, I fold my arms across my chest. Please don’t let him have noticed. He’s going to think I’m a total pervert.
“What’s it to be?” His voice is gentler now.
“You can be my bodyguard,” I mutter.
“Good girl.” He says it slow and caressing, and now I feel like I really want to be his good girl. Hell, I want to be his…
My breath catches. What do I even mean by that?
I have no idea. All I know is that the way he looks at me ignites a fire inside me that’s going to be near impossible to put out.