STEPHANIE
ELEVEN
There are worse things to crave than strawberries. Unfortunately, I can name one.
There’s an odd yet undeniable sense of abandonment when I wake to find James gone. He warned me, but I had convinced myself that the man risking everything to come save me again wouldn’t leave me with strangers.
I’m untethered, adrift, and I have been since I left the institute.
The desire to hide inside my brother’s apartment had been overwhelming, but I resisted the urge because that would have been trading one controlled environment for another.
Life isn’t about safety nets and carefully put-together itineraries.
It’s messy and chaotic, but that’s where you find adventure.
It’s what drives passion, something I’ve been missing for most of my adult life.
I’m terrified but ready. Fortune favors the brave, or so they say.
“Do you want fruit with your breakfast?” I call out to the two agents in the living room, talking in low voices as they point at a laptop screen turned away from me.
Camryn raises her gaze. She’s pretty, and I didn’t miss the way she tracked James with more than professional interest. I can’t quite put my finger on the emotion. I don’t think it’s attraction, maybe respect?
“I’ll take some fruit with my coffee,” she answers as she nudges Agent Thompson’s arm.
“Yep, my wife will be happy to hear I’m not living off junk food.”
“Perfect.”
I prepare three bowls and three coffees, already knowing their preferences given their addiction to caffeine.
Camryn likes hers strong with a splash of milk.
Agent Thompson enjoys what he says is one spoonful of sugar, but his grimace the first time I made it made me realize he meant one huge, heaped spoonful of sugar, which equates to three.
I slide onto the armchair and nibble at a strawberry as the agents devour their breakfast. It warms me when people enjoy something I gave them, anything from a well-prepared drink to some freshly cut fruit. Others waited on me for so long that it made me feel incapable.
After a few minutes of watching them frown and tilt their heads at the screen, I ask, “So what’s the plan?”
Camryn’s lips twitch. “The plan is to keep you safe while we neutralize the threat.”
“And that threat is Christopher Burnside?” My entire adult life, I’ve been given vague threats. It isn’t healthy for my mind. I need to know the endpoint because I refuse to be locked away.
“That’s right,” she says.
Agent Thompson stretches his arms in the air. “I need to get a little shut-eye while Hanson and Jacobs take over.”
Camryn flicks her hand in his direction, dismissing him.
“You should get some rest too,” I point out as she sips her coffee.
“I’ll debrief with the others, introduce you, and then do a quick sweep of the block.”
One thing I’m learning about this woman is that she’s dedicated to her job and, by extension, my safety. If the world had more people like her, perhaps it would be a better place to live. As it is, I wouldn’t even consider bringing a child into this world. I’m not sure my heart could handle it.
I hum as I grab my e-reader that James thoughtfully packed in my bag. At least the man knows my essentials.
“What are you reading?” Camryn wonders.
“Fantasy.”
“Like Lord of the Rings?”
My lips twitch. “No, like dragons, lightning powers, and an epic enemies-to-lovers storyline where the last people to know they are meant to be together are the leading characters.”
“Sounds enthralling,” she mumbles.
“I can’t read crime and thrillers. There’s enough of that in the real world.”
“Fair point. I consider it professional research, although I love a good cozy romance as a palate cleanser.”
I blink at the agent and her revelation. Interesting. I guess we all have layers, and deep down, Miss Camryn Sinclair is seeking a love match, someone to come home to, to lean on when she deals with the worst of humanity. I’ve had a taste, and it haunts my every waking moment and stalks my dreams.
The stairs creak and footsteps precede the two new agents who must have arrived while I was sleeping.
The woman is a younger agent with a blonde, sharp-cut bob, assessing green eyes, and a thin, pressed mouth.
The guy is older and stockier than Agent Thompson, with a shaved head and soft hazel eyes. He nods once at me.
“Ben,” he declares. No nonsense, I like that.
Everyone is dressed casually in jeans and muted-colored plain shirts, nothing that stands out. This way they can answer the door without raising suspicion and blend in with locals as they pretend to be on a pleasant stroll.
“I need to ask you some questions,” Camryn says as the guy goes into the kitchen and the other woman takes a seat next to Camryn.
“Your sleepwalking,” Camryn starts.
My shoulders tense. “Yes?”
“Is that a regular thing?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“It happens more often when I’m anxious.”
“And what should we do?” the other woman asks. “Should we wake you?”
“The best thing would be to install a lock on my bedroom door. My sleepwalking brain probably won’t be able to work it out in a new environment.”
“Too risky,” Camryn says.
“Then try to coax me back to bed, or even onto the sofa. I rarely remember anything from the exchange, but I believe I can talk total garbage.”
Camryn frowns. “There’s no truth in your words?”
“I wouldn’t say that, but they aren’t always clear.”
Camryn points at her laptop, drawing the other agent’s attention. “All the cameras are up and working. Motion detectors are alarmed, and they’ll track heat too.”
“Fancy,” I mutter. “Which reminds me, I need to check in with my brother before he ignites a fire under the MC and there’s a gang of burly bikers searching the country for me.”
Camryn pulls out a phone and hands it to me. I take it and shift to go upstairs. “His number is already in there. James’s too, if you need him for any reason.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t tell him where you are,” she calls out.
“That would be a feat, given I don’t know where I am.”
She chuckles as I slip inside my bedroom and close the door. I roll my shoulders and swipe to connect the call.
“Where are you?” Hunter snaps.
“Well, hello to you too, brother.”
“Stephanie.”
“How do you put so much weight into my name? Seriously? It’s like you’re chastising, judging, and coaxing me at the same time.”
“Location.”
“Safe house.”
“State?”
“Not a clue. But I ate some fruit which must be local because it was fan-freaking-tastic.”
“I don’t care about the fruit. Eleanor, can you trace the call?”
“Yes,” she sighs. “But I won’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
“The fewer people who know where she is, the better.”
“But I’m her brother.”
“Meaning if Christopher can’t track her down, he’ll be watching you. Think with your brain cells, not your heart.”
Hunter grumbles something incoherent in the background that sounds a lot like, “When did you get new piercings?”
“That’s my cue to go. Just wanted to reassure you I’m fine.”
I disconnect the call before I end up listening to noises no sister should hear her brother make. Another reason I can’t live with them.
I stand and move to the window in time to see Camryn striding down the path and looking over her shoulder up at me.
She really is an excellent agent, but is she a good woman for James? I know I’m not. Who would want me? The ugly thoughts tangle in my mind, the ones telling me I deserved it, that men won’t want me now I’ve been tainted. Who would want such a damaged woman who tried to take the easy way out?
Certainly not a man who has women falling at his feet with one look. Definitely not a man who has seen me at my worst. Absolutely not a man who is so far off-limits, we may as well be on a different planet.
Not James. Never James.
Then why is he the only face I see when I close my eyes and will myself to dream of a future filled with light and hope?
Why is it him that makes my heart race with excitement, not fear?
And why does the darkness that’s lived inside of me for so long find a place in his eyes, like he could handle all of me? Every salacious thought. Every wicked desire. Every fantasy that’s filled my mind.
Why, when I put him into those fantasies, do they no longer induce shame but hunger?
That’s what I am.
Ravenous for a man I can’t have.