CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE CHLOE
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHLOE
NOW
Idon’t know what the most wild part of today has been.
Driving seven hours to get away from my ex and his crazy brother.
The fact that said crazy brother tailed me all the way.
Or that my bodyguard folded himself into my trunk for the trip, only to drive me straight back toward where I came from.
You know what? It's all been crazy as hell, and I’m ready to wake up from this nightmare.
The sun dipped beneath the horizon about an hour ago, but I refuse to ask Ryker if he plans for us to drive all the way back to New York tonight.
I also really need to pee because I caved and drank the energy drink he handed me twenty minutes into the drive, but my stubborn streak won’t let me ask him to stop.
This escape attempt has been foiled in the most spectacular of ways.
I squeeze my thighs together and try to think of anything other than my aching bladder, but we’re long past the point of no return. One pothole and I’m going to embarrass myself.
I wonder if I pee myself if Ryker will get frustrated and let me run. There’s merit to the thought, but something tells me that’s not going to be enough to deter him.
The crazy motherfucker spent seven hours in the trunk of my car. If that’s not a sign of his dedication, I don’t know what is.
I’m so distracted by my bladder that I don’t realize we’ve pulled off the main highway until we’re parking outside a motel.
Glancing up at the building, I don’t get the immediate impression that it’s run-down, which is enough to satisfy my need to stay somewhere clean.
“What are we doing here?”
“Sleeping,” he replies, shoving the door open and striding into the office.
I watch each confident step as he takes it, allowing my eyes to roam over his back, taking in the tattoos that peek out the top of his shirt. His wide shoulders stretch his shirt to its limit, and he doesn’t seem fazed by the cold wind that whips around him.
Where the hell did Camilla even find this guy?
He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met before, and I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by crime families.
He only spends a minute in the office before he returns with a key hanging from his fingers.
The door swings open and he ducks his head in. “You coming, or did you want to pee all over that seat?”
“How did you—” I cut myself off with a shake of the head. It doesn’t matter that he knows I need to pee, all that matters is that I’m about to get some sweet, sweet relief.
I tug my bag over my shoulder as I slide out of the car and follow him toward a room close to the office.
If I’d been the one booking the room, I would have asked for the one furthest from the road, but I guess it makes sense to be able to make a quick exit if need be.
The door is barely open when I push past him, dump my bag on the bed, and practically sprint for the bathroom, stopping only long enough to slam the door shut and lock it before finally dropping onto the toilet.
Once I’m finished, I wash my hands and take a minute to look in the mirror above the sink. I look like a wreck, but what would you expect after spending all day in a car only to end up a few hours from where we started?
I drop my head with a sigh.
Fuck.
What the hell am I going to do now?
Ryker thinks he can protect me, and maybe he can, but that doesn’t make the risk worth it.
Next time I flee, I’m going straight to the airport and getting the first flight to Europe. At least with an ocean between us, I’ll have a bit of time to work out my next steps.
It was stupid of me to think I could drive across the border and find safety. The only way I’ll ever escape is by disappearing.
When I can’t linger in the bathroom for another minute, I step out and take in the room I didn’t bother looking at on the way in.
One bed.
Of course there’s one bed, because why would there be two? Why would the universe give me two beds when it has the chance to fuck with me like this?
A smug smile tugs at the corners of Ryker’s lips, but he doesn’t say anything from his place in the center of the double bed.
He barely even fits on the damn thing sitting up, I can’t imagine his feet won’t hang off the edge when he’s horizontal.
“Something wrong, Chloe?”
I glare at him for a beat before taking in the rest of the space. It’s clean but basic, with just a small television resting on top of a set of drawers and a tiny table with two flimsy-looking chairs on either side of it.
Not even a couch.
My eyes slip shut, my chest aching with the need to cry.
Why does the universe hate me so fucking much?
What did I do in my past life to ensure me such terrible luck in this one?
I don’t realize he’s moved until his fingers brush my cheek with soft reverence, tilting my chin up until I’m forced to look at him.
“What’s wrong?”
A startled laugh tumbles from my chest before I can catch it.
“I think the better question is, what isn’t wrong?
Because my ex’s crazy brother stalking me, you hiding out in my trunk like a fucking serial killer, and then driving me right back to the place I was trying to run from all sound so right?
What about seeing my ex for the first time in a decade?
Or almost losing the only person in this world that pulled me through the worst time in my life? ”
It’s not until he wipes them away that I realize tears are rolling down my cheeks, the agony finally forcing itself out.
“Keep going,” he murmurs.
“What?” I whisper.
“Give me your anger. Give me your sadness. I can handle it, just let it all out.”
Pressing my eyes closed, I force a deep breath into my lungs before shoving at his chest with as much strength as I can muster.
He barely moves, but I do it again and again as rough sobs hiccup between us, each one hurting more than the last.
“That’s it, Siren. Give me all your pain,” he encourages me, even as I shove him again, this time forcing him back a step.
I’ve never considered myself a violent person, only ever resorting to it when my life has depended on it, but it’s almost freeing to release everything that’s been festering all these years.
So I keep going. I keep shoving. I keep crying. And then when I can’t take it anymore, when my body is so exhausted I physically can’t lift my arms, my legs give way beneath me.
I brace for the pain of my knees hitting the rough carpet, but I never do.
Strong arms wrap around me as Ryker lowers us both to the ground, holding me against him so tight it borders on pain.
I try not to think about the fact I can’t remember the last time I felt this safe or cared for or that it feels so fucking right in his arms.
I try to think of anything other than the way my body relaxes into his like it’s the most natural thing in the world, or how my racing mind settles whenever his arms are around me.
Because all of that would mean I have feelings for Ryker, and that’s one thing I absolutely cannot afford as my life implodes around me.