I see a tall man in all black sprinting down the private road on the backside of the property. I take off after him, adrenaline fueling every step. I must eliminate the threat.
The man cuts a sharp right onto the main road. I follow him, desperate to close the gap between us. He stops in front of a black car parked off to the side, partially hidden by a tree. I push myself to reach him before he opens the door, but it’s too late.
He climbs into the car and takes off, tires squealing and leaving behind the smell of burning rubber. I chase it for a good fifty feet, but it’s no use. At least I got the license plate number.
I wipe a hand down my face, catching my breath before scanning the area for any more clues. Spencer and I haven’t talked much over the last few days, and her father is being dodgy every time I call him for a check-in.
I don’t think Marcus is behind this. He’s not capable of harming his daughter. However, I do think he knows more than he’s telling me. I’ll get to the bottom of it, but for now, I have to move Spencer to a safe house.
On my way back to the house, I call the Watchdog Protection office, getting Colton on the line. He may come off as someone who goofs around too much, but the man is serious about the important things. In fact, the fucker is downright lethal when pushed to the edge. He also knows everyone and has what feels like unlimited connections.
In under five minutes, Colton has located a safe house a few hours away, courtesy of one of his many contacts. If I didn’t know he was such a solid guy, I’d think Colton was shady as fuck. As it is, I’m glad to have him part of my team.
After giving Marcus an update via text, I finally head back inside to check on Spencer. The poor girl looked absolutely terrified, but at least I know she’s safe. The fucker didn’t get near the house and I’m taking her away from here. I have to keep reminding myself of that as I walk down the hall and knock on the bathroom door.
“Spencer?” I ask, trying to be calm and soothing for her.
When all I hear is a shuddering breath, I snap, swinging the door open to make sure she’s okay. What I see absolutely guts me.
Spencer is standing in the far corner, leaning back against the wall. Her eyes are rimmed in red, tears staining her pale cheeks. She’s whimpering and shaking almost violently, her breath shallow and choppy. Spencer has her arms wrapped around her middle like she’s trying to hold herself together.
“What’s wrong?” I demand, taking a few steps closer to her.
“I-I-I…” she hiccups as more tears spill over onto her cheeks. “D-don’t...like...s-small spaces,” she manages to stutter out in-between her frantic gasps for air. “Panic attack,” she adds, her voice barely above a whisper.
I close the distance between us, though I stop short of touching her. I don’t want to crowd her, but I’m not sure what to do. Fuck, how do I make it better?
“What can I do? What helps?”
The terrified, trembling angel looks up at me, those brown eyes of hers pleading with me to make it better, to take her fear away.
“Compression,” she whispers.
"Compression?" Spencer nods then squeezes her arms around her middle. Suddenly it clicks. "A hug?" She sniffs miserably and then nods her head again.
I’ve never hugged anyone before, but that doesn’t seem to matter. She’s wrapped up in my arms in the next second.
6
Spencer
Logan holds me close, his whiskey and pine scent filling my lungs and calming me down ever so much.
He’s so freaking huge his body completely engulfs mine in the warmest, most comforting hug I’ve ever had. I bury my face into his chest, wanting to be closer somehow. Logan tightens his hold on me, surrounding me with his strength.
“Am I doing it right?” he asks softly.
Despite my pounding heart and racing thoughts, I find my lips pulling into a smile. The beastly bodyguard is surprisingly sweet.
I nod as I cling to him, letting his steady breath and the beat of his heart bring me back from the edge of fear. He strokes my back, his fingers gliding up and down my spine. I didn’t think Logan was capable of being so gentle, but here he is, holding me like I’m the most precious thing in the world.
I take a moment to soak up everything he’s giving me, then reluctantly pull back from him.
Logan drops his hands to my hips, still holding me close but letting me have some space. I look up at those severe blue eyes of his, surprised to see them full of worry. He stares at me for a long, heavy moment, then surprises me further by pressing his lips to my forehead.
Closing my eyes, I savor the feeling of his tender kiss. I have no idea what this means, only that I need it. I need him. Need him in a confusing, terrifying, all-consuming way that settles deep in my soul.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs onto my skin, pulling me into his arms once more.
I melt into his embrace as more tears pour down my cheeks. I don’t even know why I’m crying, but it doesn’t matter to Logan as he combs his fingers through my hair and gently rocks me back and forth. I’ve never felt so cherished.
Can I stay here forever?
Logan grunts and squeezes me tighter. “You can stay here as long as you want.”
I should be embarrassed I said that out loud, but his response soothes my anxiety. Everything about this man soothes me. He'd protect me from anything and fight off my demons if I let him.
We stay like that for long moments until I stop shaking and can breathe normally again. This time when I step away, he lets me. Until my knees buckle, that is.
Logan scoops me up in his arms and I automatically curl up into his chest, burying my face into the side of his neck. He carries me into my room and gently sets me down on the comfy couch in the corner.
He stands back and runs his hands through his hair before looking around. “Stay,” he grunts at me. I nod and watch him leave, tucking my legs under me as I curl up on the couch.
A few moments later, Logan has the big fleece blanket I keep in the living room for movie nights. I sit up slightly and reach out for it, touched that he remembered it’s my favorite. Instead of handing the blanket to me, Logan drapes it over my shoulders and proceeds to wrap it tightly around me.
“Compression,” he says, pulling it tighter and nodding with satisfaction. God, this man. He’s ruining me. “What else? What can I do? Is there a list?” He looks at me expectantly, as if I have a checklist of things that make me feel better.
“No list,” I whisper, not trusting my voice.
Logan’s lips form a straight line and he grunts once more. “I’ll work on one.”
His response is so serious, so matter-of-fact, I have to smile. I like the idea of him having a list of things about me, no matter what it is.
“Maybe you could sit next to me?” I ask softly.
Logan immediately stops pacing and joins me on the couch. I lean against his arm, but Logan wants more than that. He pulls me into his lap, blanket and all as if I weigh nothing. My arms are trapped in the blanket cocoon, but I don't care. I don't feel suffocated, I feel safe and protected for the first time in so long.
After a few moments of silence, Logan clears his throat. “Why do small spaces give you panic attacks?” he murmurs.