Tears sting my eyes as he walks through the room and into the bathroom. After a couple of minutes, he returns wearing sleep pants and a t-shirt, and as much as I want to look away, to pretend to be asleep, I can’t seem to pull my eyes from him as he stands beside the bed, debating on whether or not he should join me.
Giving in, he huffs a sigh and climbs in on his side. I can tell he’s doing his best not to touch me, but with his size and the fact that I’m lying in the center of the mattress, it’s impossible.
The second his back hits the bottom sheet, I scoot closer, laying my hand on his stomach and my head on his chest.
A silent sob escapes my lips when he wraps his arm around my back and pulls me closer as if nothing horrible happened earlier. If I close my eyes and let my mind drift, I can imagine that he actually wants me here. I can picture him smiling at me when I wake up in his arms, rather than him being filled with the annoyance he’s been so masterful at hiding.
His t-shirt is cool against my skin, but it’s still warmer than I feel in my bones, so I get as close to him as I can manage.
“I’m sorry I kissed you.” I swallow when my voice comes out husky and filled with emotion. “It’s not fair to your girlfriend.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend, Sweet Mia.”
“Are you engaged?” The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them.
It’s not a far-fetched conclusion. Technically, I guess I’m engaged too.
He laughs, low and gravelly, the action making my head shake on top of his chest. “Not engaged either.”
“I heard your conversation earlier,” I confess. “There’s someone.”
“What was going on between Kirsty and me wasn’t serious.”
Was? Wasn’t?
Both are past tense, but I can’t focus on how that makes me feel. Analyzing over that would only lead to a bigger mess in my head.
Silence fills the room, but just as I’m convinced he’s fallen asleep, he speaks again, “I loved kissing you.”
My heart rate spikes, pounding against my ribcage so hard, I don’t doubt he can feel it.
“But you kissed me for the wrong reasons.”
I keep quiet, hoping he’ll say more. It doesn’t take long before my silence is rewarded.
“I’m sorry if I scared you. I was extremely upset that you put yourself in danger. And I can’t promise that I won’t respond that way again if you do something foolish, but I will never hurt you. I won’t put my hands on you or force you to do anything. Never. That will never happen where I’m concerned. But if I get agitated again, you only have permission to touch me, to kiss me if you want to, not because of some attempt to get me to calm down. Do you understand?”
“I u-understand,” I stammer.
He’s exactly right. I pressed my lips to his because I saw it work back in Miami. Gabi, a girl that got there the same day I did, chose that tactic instead of fighting the guys. Last I saw of her, she was sitting on the leader’s lap having a grand old time. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try the same approach with Ryan. He’s right, most of me didn’t want to kiss him, but even more of me doesn’t want to lose him either. My selfish heart wants all of his time, all of his attention, and angry men don’t stick around. Angry men stay late at the office and make lazy excuses for coming home half-drunk and smelling of cheap perfume.
I squeeze my eyes closed, convincing myself that Ryan and Jason are nothing alike, and if Ryan has a non-serious relationship with another woman, there’s nothing I can do about that. It doesn’t stop me from reminding myself that he’s here with me and has been constantly since I was taken to the hospital.
He loved kissing me but stopped it because he was aware that I kissed him for the wrong reasons. I want to argue, now that I’m thinking about it. Most of me kissed him because of what he suspects, but there’s a part of me that wanted to kiss him because he’s helped me so much. I wanted to kiss him because it felt right. I wanted to kiss him because lying against him every day and not pressing my lips to his was driving me crazy.
I want to kiss him now, especially after he took a stand and told me I couldn’t kiss him unless it’s for the right reasons. How idiotic of me to kiss him without his permission. What does that make me? Am I as bad as the men that pressed their disgusting lips to mine when I didn’t want it? Did I take something from him he wasn’t offering?
“Get out of your head,” he whispers after a minute.
He chuckles and pulls me tighter against him, then his hand starts that soothing run down my back over and over.
“I like you, Mia. I think you’re an amazing woman. I think you’re a survivor, and before long, you’ll be someone you can face in the mirror rather than avoiding it like you have been. I’m not one to give you the timetable on that type of recovery, but I’d be an asshole if I didn’t tell you that we’re leaving soon.” I stiffen against his chest, but he keeps going on. “I’ll have to leave for work. Sometimes that’s three days, sometimes it’s for weeks at a time. So I need you to work on being a little more independent, not because I’m rushing your recovery, but because I can’t leave my focus here with you. Worrying whether you left the room to eat will put me in danger. What we do is serious shit, and it requires all of my attention.”
I know he’s telling the truth. Flashes of the men in their swat-like gear and assault rifles fill my head every time I close my eyes. Ryan and his guys were the saviors, but the men in the compound had guns just as big, and more than once, I saw them turn those things on each other during an argument. Once, ten of us were forced to witness the massacre of three women on the front lawn.
“If you aren't comfortable here with the other women, then we need to start making arrangements to get you back home to your parents, or anywhere else you’ll feel safe. I can’t do my job if I think you’re sneaking off in the middle of the night and freezing to death.”
“What do you want?”
Asking the question brings a sense of foreboding, but if he’s wanting to lay all the truth out right now, I need to do the very same.
“I want you safe. I want you happy.”
“Where do you want me, though?”
“If it were up to me, you’d be right here when I got back, but I can’t be selfish. You aren’t a prisoner here. I don’t own you, and you don’t owe anything to Cerberus. You tell me where you want to be, and I’ll make that happen, no questions asked.”
I tangle my fingers in his t-shirt and let the tears of relief fall from my eyes and wet his shirt.
“Right here,” I tell him. “I want to be right here.”
Chapter 11
Scooter
Mia was missing less than a handful of hours, but Max won’t even make eye contact with me. He hasn’t said as much, but I’m certain he thinks I can’t take care of his twin.
I’m not walking away from her, but at the end of the day, I didn’t ask for this job. She reached for me in the hospital and hasn’t stopped since that moment.
Max acts as if I took her from him, like I’m just as bad as the men that snatched her from the mall. I know he’ll be involved in this latest mission to Venezuela, and then he’ll go back to wherever he came from. Maybe the absence of him constantly lingering around Mia will help her loosen up a little. She’s always on edge no matter how much I tell her she’s safe here. I think her brother watching her, expecting her to be okay immediately is too much pressure, and it’s only setting her back.