Chapter 20
Violet
Ford was impossible. And the worst part? I was starting to like that about him.
Every time I thought I had him figured out—calm, capable, protective in that annoyingly competent way of his—he’d blindside me. Like casually replacing half my wardrobe and ordering me new art prints for my walls. Or grinning at me like walking in a charity event together was some kind of date.
And damn it, a part of me wanted it to be.
The past few days had been a strange mix of chaos and quiet.
I’d gone from watching my life get torn apart to waking up in a place that smelled like coffee and Ford’s enticing cologne.
He’d welcomed me into his home without hesitation.
Protected me. Made me feel more safe and secure than I’d ever felt in my life, and he never pushed for more than I was ready to give.
He’d replaced my things and found ways to make me laugh again.
He treated my occasional prickly attitude like it was something to be charmed by instead of fixed.
He was thoughtful in ways that sneaked past every defense I had left and that scared me almost more than whoever trashed my house because I’d promised myself I’d never depend on anyone for anything.
Somehow, Ford had become the exception to the rule. I was in way over my head, and I worried it might already be too late to get out.
The morning of the walkathon, I woke up terrified. Not of the event itself, but of leaving the safety of Ford’s condo since I’d taken the last few days off work and kept myself holed up inside his place. I was oddly afraid of stepping into a crowd where anyone could be watching me, following me.
We had to get up before dawn, and even though I wanted to call Andrea for advice since she’d been in a similar stalking situation, I didn’t. I didn’t want to worry her. I just wanted…to not be afraid anymore.
“You can back out if you’re not feeling up to it,” Ford said as we got dressed, his voice calm and steady, clearly sensing my reserve. “Laney will understand.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head and refusing to let fear run my life. “I promised I’d be there.”
A teasing grin curved his lips as he tried to make light of the situation. “Really, it’s okay, not all of us have the stamina…”
“Ha, ha.” I rolled my eyes, tugging on my yoga pants, but the joke didn’t loosen the knot in my chest. I appreciated him giving me the out, but somewhere along the way, it had just become easier—and it felt right—to tell Ford the truth about what I was feeling.
I met his gaze and exhaled a deep breath. “Honestly, I’m scared to go out in this big crowd. I know it’s silly but I feel like whoever is doing these things is getting more brazen. What if this person’s next move is worse? What if they try to grab me and kidnap me?” I shuddered at the thought.
Ford finished pulling on his clothes and walked over to me, his hands landing gently on my shoulders. “Violet, nobody is going to grab you today. Not on my watch. I’ll be right there, at all times, keeping an eye on you. I promise.”
Something inside me unclenched at his words. I believed him. All this time I had told myself not to trust a man’s promises, and now here I was, trusting Ford’s.
I was so screwed.
We ate a light breakfast and headed out. When we arrived at the starting area, the early morning air buzzed with music and chatter. Laney was already waving us over, bright and enthusiastic as always, surrounded by a few others I recognized as some of Ford’s coworkers from the security firm.
A group of built men—all tall, broad-shouldered, obnoxiously handsome and shirtless—walking for Laney’s charity? Yeah, they were going to be the star attraction.
“You didn’t tell me this was a shirt-optional sort of thing,” I noted to Laney, jerking my thumb at Tate and the others.
“You’re always welcome to take yours off,” Laney replied cheerfully as she gave me a hug. “I’m sure Ford would love that.”
“Not where everyone else can see it,” Ford said beside me, and I couldn’t deny his territorial tone delighted me.
Tate, catching that, barked a laugh and slapped Ford on the shoulder. “Possessive much?”
“You have no idea,” Ford grumbled, but he was smiling.
I grinned, too, remembering our first time together, and how I’d goaded Ford by flirting with those other men at The Players Club by the pool.
We made our way to the starting line, and I tried not to feel overwhelmed, or spooked, by the amount of people around us. Ford was standing right next to me, talking to his coworkers, but my stomach was in knots.
“Are you okay?” Laney asked gently, her face etched with concern. “You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine,” I lied, forcing a smile. “Just nervous. You know…crowds.”
Laney’s expression softened. “Ford told me what happened. When he asked me for help replacing your clothes, I got the whole story. Don’t worry. You’re safe, okay?” She looped her arm through mine. “You’ve got the best security in the business all around you, plus me.”
Her voice was so warm and certain it made something tighten in my throat. Laney might not have been military trained like her brother or father, but she was still Ford’s sister, and anyone who underestimated her would undoubtedly regret it.
“Thanks,” I murmured, feeling less stressed.
The starting buzzer went off, announcing the start of the walkathon.
The crowd surged forward, and Laney tugged me along, her arm still hooked in mine.
The walkathon wasn’t nearly as intense as a marathon.
Just a few miles, an easy pace, the kind of event meant to bring people together for a common goal of raising money for a good cause.
The Vegas heat climbed fast, though, and we stopped often at the watering stations along the way.
Laney eventually released me, fanning herself dramatically. “Too hot for emotional support handholding,” she said, grinning.
I laughed and nodded, and she stayed close by my side, so I was flanked between her and Ford.
She chatted about things going on in her life, and somehow managed to make me laugh when I hadn’t expected to.
She complimented me on my taste in art, and when she asked about my job, I tensed at first, but to my surprise she was genuinely curious, not judgmental.
She wanted to know all about dealing cards, and how I did the private parties. It was nice to talk to her. I liked Laney a lot and knew she was someone I could be friends with, outside of Ford.
We were about two-thirds of the way through the walkathon when we stopped at one of the tables handing out water and snacks.
“Thanks,” I said automatically, not really looking at the volunteer’s face as I took the paper cup they handed to me containing Gatorade. It was too crowded and everyone was trying not to jostle everyone else as they gathered around the table.
Just as we started to walk away, someone bumped into Laney and she stumbled, her drink spilling all over her hand and the ground. “Ahh, crap.”
“Here, take mine,” I insisted since I wasn’t overly thirsty, handing her the cup before she could protest. “I’ll grab another one here at this table.”
At the next stand, a group of kids with painted faces were passing out drinks.
“Thanks,” I said, accepting a cup from a smiling young girl with her face painted like a cute cat.
Laney chugged hers in one go, then pulled a face, almost gagging. “Ugh. Still hate Gatorade.”
I blinked at her in surprise. “Then why drink it?”
“Because I need the electrolytes,” she said, laughing.
I laughed too, shaking my head, then took a long drink of mine.
It was cherry flavored and cold, the sweetness cutting through the dryness in my throat.
Laughter and chatter pressed in around us again, but something about Laney’s silence made me glance her way.
She looked pale, and she was clutching her stomach.
“Laney?” I touched her arm. “What’s wrong?”
She swayed slightly. “I feel…dizzy,” she murmured.
Panic immediately gripped me. I glanced around for Ford, who was nearby but talking to an older man he seemed to know. And while all the other guys had stopped while we’d gotten something to drink and surrounded us, they were still a few yards away.
“Ford!” I called out, getting his attention immediately.
He was beside us in an instant, alert and focused and concerned when he saw his sister’s queasy expression.
One hand gently gripped Laney’s shoulder, the other scanning the crowd like he expected a threat to materialize.
I felt the same way, troubled about the fact that Laney had drunk my Gatorade, only to end up not feeling well after consuming it.
“I’m fine,” Laney protested weakly, but her voice didn’t match the words.
Ford guided her to the curb as she wobbled on her feet, and caught the attention of one of the medics stationed nearby. “Sit down,” he ordered, his voice calm, but firm.
I sat beside her, my heart hammering. Tate appeared, thrusting a fresh bottle of water into my hands for Laney while the rest of the guys from the firm formed a protective semicircle around us.
“What happened?” Ford asked sharply, his eyes flickering to me for answers while the medic took Laney’s blood pressure and tended to her.
“She drank my cup of Gatorade,” I explained quickly, guilt already rising in my throat like bile. “I gave her mine because she spilled hers, and now she’s sick.”
Ford immediately understood what I was insinuating. “Did you see who handed you the drink?”
I shook my head, my stomach churning. “No. Do you think that someone—” I couldn’t finish the sentence, unable to say tried to poison me and got your sister instead?
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” he said, but I could hear the edge of fear beneath his control.