Chapter Thirteen
KINLEY
THE BACK of Abbot’s SUV is loaded with my art supplies and a couple more bags of my things. I worried he would give me a hard time about the amount of stuff I piled into his car, but he helped me carry everything out without a word.
We had to go to the FBI headquarters in Tulsa, switch to a different car to take to my house and then come back and transfer everything to his SUV in a basement garage. It was all very cloak and dagger.
Even though I’ve been gone for a short time, everyone was happy to see me, especially Dad.
He may come across as a crotchety old geezer, but he loves us and would do anything for us.
Mason took my new phone and programmed in a burner number and reinforced his previous order while telling me to call him if I need anything.
I know I’m usually a pain in their asses, but I think he misses me.
My niece, Gray’s daughter, Lainey Rai, hugged me hard. “When are you coming home?”
She turned twelve this year and is almost as tall as me. Sliding my hand down her back over her soft brown braid, I kissed her temple. “Soon. I promise.” She almost made me cry.
Now we’re on the highway and Abbot is quiet, lost in thought. I watch his profile for a moment before he briefly glances in my direction. “What?”
Tipping my head as I look at him, I sigh. “You’ve not said much, Special Agent. Are you mad?”
Another quick glance and he shakes his head. “No, why would I be mad?”
“I don’t know, maybe it’s just something about being stuck in a car with a man who is being quiet that gives an air of petulance or, I don’t know, ego goo.”
The smile I was trying to get lights up his face as he glances in my direction again before refocusing on the road. “Ego goo?” He says it slow like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.
“Yeah. Like the angry courtroom scene in the movie Ghostbusters, the toxic pink goo bubbles over, affecting everyone around it. Only in this case, the reason for the goo is you, being quiet, or stewing, or whatever men do, making ego goo bubble over and splatter.”
His smile stretches bigger the longer I talk, and I want nothing more than to kiss those perfect lips. “Baby, I can’t imagine what kind of three-ring circus is going on in that head of yours.”
I don’t correct him for calling me baby this time. I think he does it to push my buttons, but something about it makes me feel connected to him. I look out the window at the trees whizzing by. “You just leave my circus alone, it entertains me.”
When he pinned my hands against the wall last night, my panties instantly got wet, and I wanted him to kiss me right then. I wanted to feel him hold me against the wall with his body and feel those soft lips against mine again. I almost thought he might.
But he let go.
He didn’t want to, I could tell when he looked at my lips, desire was in his eyes. But he did.
The only good place to set up my easel is in the dining area, where there is a lot of natural sunlight.
He didn’t complain, he helped me carry everything in and told me he was waiting for my security (i.e.
: babysitter) so he could go to work. I assumed it would be Swan, but another guy steps through the front door.
This guy is tall like Abbot, with chestnut brown hair that is cut in a military buzz type of fade, and he’s clean shaven. They all seem to be well-built. He has friendly blue eyes with crow’s feet from laughing on each side.
My dander immediately goes up, my thoughts are on the men catcalling during the meeting the other day and the fact that this guy could be one of them.
I’ve never deluded myself into thinking that men are gentlemen all the time, or especially when there is a group of them together.
I have brothers, so I know men are assholes sometimes.
What pisses me off is being forced to spend time with men who I know were being assholes, they made it personal for me.
Did they know I could hear them? Maybe, maybe not, but I don’t fucking care, they were on the clock and, unfortunately, they were too stupid to make sure I was ignorant of their humiliating disrespect.
Sliding my eyes to Abbot, who is standing next to him, my heartbeat is loud in my ears as anger washes over me. He’s picked up on it and is watching my response to the new guy with caution.
“Ms. Harlow, this is Special Agent Corbett.”
The new guy steps toward me with his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Harlow.”
Not taking my eyes off Abbot, or acknowledging the new guy, I ask, “Was he part of the conference call the other day?”
New guy steps back and slides his hands in the pockets of his slacks, and in my periphery, I see him look down at the floor. He knows what I’m talking about, he was there. Nearly mirroring him, Abbot also slides his hands in his pockets and takes a deep breath.
He tips his head to the side, his eyes hard on me. “He was in the room, yes.”
The stare-down between us lasts a few long moments before I turn to set the box of brushes I’m holding on the dining table that I just spread a canvas tarp over.
I can feel Abbot’s sharp eyes watching my every move.
Wiping my damp palms on my jean shorts, I take my own deep breath and lock my eyes on Abbot. “Fuck you, Special Agent.”
My bare feet are loud on the hardwood as I quickly walk down the hall to the room I’m staying in. I hear a long breath of frustration behind me.
Fuck him.
How did I get here? All I wanted was to enjoy a night out on my birthday. That’s all.
Tears prick my eyes, but I take a deep breath, fighting a crying jag that is knocking on my ‘bitch let me out’ door. I won’t cry in front of him, I don’t know any of these people, and I won’t let them see me break down.
Curling my fingers around the edge of the door, I push it closed as I walk through, stopping at the edge of the bed to cover my face. I won’t let them see me cry, goddamn it.
The door doesn’t shut like I expect it to, instead, I hear it click closed softly behind me, and I spin around to see Abbot standing in front of the door with his hands on his hips.
He’s so fucking sexy. His dark slacks hug his hips, and the sleeves of his maroon dress shirt are rolled up to expose the veins on his forearms like little rivers under the art on his skin.
But I hate him.
“Get out.” I say calmly.
“No.” The response is immediate, and he doesn’t move a muscle.
We stand facing each other in an intense stare-off. Pressing my lips together, I swallow the lump in my throat and breathe through the pressure in my chest. When I think I’ve got my emotions under control, I say, “Fuck you. I hate you.”
He doesn’t move or say anything, he just stands there, waiting. His dark eyes watching me. I fist my hands and lower them to my sides.
“Isn’t it enough that I had to watch someone die?
Then a man breaks into my house, probably planning to kill me, then I’m taken from my home and separated from my family.
” My chin starts to shake. “Now you want me to trust men who give men a bad name?” I swing my arm out to the side in the direction of the living room and raise my voice. “I don’t know him, Abbot.”
He’s becoming blurry behind the tears filling my eyes.
“I hate this. You promised you would shield me. I don’t know him!
” I almost yell the repeated statement and choke on the sob that breaks from my chest. “You can’t just bring me here and…
I hate you.” A tear spills and runs down my face, and I swipe it away quickly.
“Fuck you.” I whisper as I turn my back to him and cover my face, pissed off that my anger is getting the better of me, which makes the tears come uncontrollably faster.
Strong arms wrap around me, and I feel the heat of his body pressed against my back. My hands are trapped over my face in his embrace, and I take deep, measured breaths to control the tears.
“I hate you.” It comes out as a shaky whisper before a soft hiccup.
“I know.” His voice is low and soothing next to my ear, the deep baritone vibrates against my back.
He’s silent for the longest time, his cheek against the side of my head, holding me as I work through my emotions.
Then, his warm breath is next to my ear.
“You’re right. I’m sorry, it’s a lot. I’m used to this life, but I forget that you’re not.
” His big palms close around my upper arms, his grasp strong with calluses scratching against my skin.
With his body wrapped around me, I feel safe and secure.
“I told you I would shield you, and I am. I swear I would never do anything to endanger you or make you uncomfortable. The offending men in the room with me that day won’t come near you, I won’t let them.
Agent Corbett was in the room, but he’s not one of the offenders, he’s not like that. ”
Lifting my face from my hands, I cross them over my chest, inside the safe prison of his arms, and look at the window across the room. “I want my life back.”
“I know you do, baby, but you have to be patient. Try to trust me. I’m working on it, I promise.”
His breath on my cheek is hot, and his spicy scent is wrapped around me with his warmth. Something quivers low in my belly as his words break through the anger, dissolving it. Letting my head fall back against his shoulder, I take a deep breath, enjoying his strength.
His chest is rock hard against my back, his body is practically flush against mine. He feels good.
One of his hands caresses my arm, slowly sliding over my skin, up and down. “Better?”
“Only if you promise not to tell anyone you saw me cry.” I follow that up with a sniff.
“I promise no one will know you’re human.” He kisses my temple with a chuckle, and we both freeze simultaneously, the gesture very intimate. I move my head to the side slightly to see what he will do next, but I’m disappointed when he lets go and steps away from me to put his hand on the doorknob.
“I have a meeting in less than an hour. Will you be okay here with Agent Corbett? I’ll try to cut out early today.” His voice is back to its usual stern, professional tone.
Turning to face him, I look over his features. His poker face is back. He’s shut me out. Disappointment washes over me, and I nod my head.
He does something he doesn’t usually do, he looks away from me before he nods. He never looks away. I feel even farther away from him than I did just seconds ago, it’s like a light goes off, and I’m standing in the dark.