Page 9 of August

She snorted. “You don’t really believe that and you know it.”

He muttered a curse. “Look, the man responsible for hurting Joe will pay. I know it’s not much, but justice will be served.”

A sniffle was her only response.

“Still... I’m sorry,” he said again, forcing more feeling into his words, letting his guard down an inch to prove to her that he cared. That she didn’t have to go through this alone.

“Thanks. I appreciate you saying that.” Although she sounded genuine, there was something else there. Emptiness, maybe. As if his apology couldn’t penetrate the pain surrounding her heart.

Maybe nothing would.

Ten minutes or so passed in silence. If Gigi was still crying, she was hiding it well. He didn’t touch the radio dial in case doing so would draw her out of whatever cocoon of comfort she’d found.

No one pulled them over, and very few vehicles were on the road. No threat in sight. Which meant he could relax a fraction and think. He had a few minutes, tops, before Gigi started asking questions again.

And he had no fucking clue where they were going other than far from here. Instinct directed him toward home. There was something about battling on your own soil that brought greater strength. But four months ago, Gigi had almost been killed in Seattle.

Home would be the first place the cartel would look for her. So the question was, should he try to hide her? Witness protection hadn’t done a good enough job at it—what made him think he could? Backcountry Protection Services had a couple of properties to choose from, one being a cabin in the woods. He could put her there, but really, hiding wasn’t sustainable. Their best bet was to stay in the city. He’d have backup from the guys there.

He couldn’t provide twenty-four-hour protection. Unless he moved in with her. Which wasn’t happening. Still, his mind drifted to the idea. Waking up next to Gigi, sharing a space with her, sharing his bed with her.

His dick grew hard.

Fuck. This was exactly what he didn’t need. A hard-on. He couldn’t think when all the blood from his head was below his belt. Couldn’t think when Gigi’s flowery scent floated through the car. When every subtle movement at the corner of his eye made him snap his gaze to hers.

Gigi did terrible things to him. She made him horny, jumpy, and flat-out stupid. It was that stupidity he had to watch more than anything, because if he wasn’t careful, his confused cock would end up right where he wanted it.

He’d already had Gigi. Their two-week fling had been fun, sexy, exciting... and heartbreaking. He’d fallen fast and hard for Little Miss Hastings, and if he was smart, he’d stay far away.

Only he couldn’t. Because he wanted her to live. That was the thing with caring about people. Correction. He didn’t care about Gigi in that sense. Well, maybe a little. But not wanting to see someone’s brains get blown out was within the normal range of feelings. Certainly didn’t mean he was still into her.

“Can we talk now or are you still too spooked?” she asked.

A muscle ticked at the junction of his jaw, he definitely wasn’t into Gigi anymore. Into getting her out of his hair, yes.

He nodded and summoned a professional tone. “Sure, Ms. Hastings—”

Gigi snorted. “Are you trying to pretend we didn’t sleep together?”

August rubbed his palm over his cheek. The problem was, he most definitely couldn’t forget the sleek curves of her body, the way her legs had clamped around his waist, and the warm, wet cavern of her delicious softness.

He cleared his throat. He’d keep his composure if it killed him. “I don’t live in the past. But I’ll call you Georgia if you prefer.”

She made a gagging noise. “Ugh. Please don’t. Call me Miss Hastings over that monstrosity.”

He smirked. He thought Georgia was a cute name, and it amused the shit out of him to know she disliked it so much. He tucked that valuable information aside to annoy her with later.

“My plan, Gigi, is to return to Seattle until we can get things settled. I suspect we’ll hear from the FBI and the U.S. Marshals. They’ll want to put you back into witness protection.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“It’s for your own safety.” He ground out the words. It took great effort to feign he believed them.

“Because that worked so well the first time? Absolutely not. I refuse.”

He sighed. He couldn’t blame her. But what she didn’t see was that her unwillingness to trust the authorities made her safety his concern. And the concern of Backcountry Protection Services.

Rami, August’s good friend and co-owner of the company, just happened to be in a serious relationship with Ivy, Gigi’s sister. So the odds of Rami not using their men to guard Gigi were slim to none. Matter of fact, he’d bet his left nut Gigi was his problem whether he wanted her to be or not.

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