Page 89 of Hide and Keep

I’m about to answer for her with some vague answer that three years could easily fall under but Ever beats me to it, saying, “Less than a month.”

Her friend saves me from voicing my thoughts by parroting, “A month?”

How did she come up with that answer? And why? Won’t that make my presence harder to explain when this next month comes and goes and I’m still by her side?

“That’s so long.”

Ever scoffs. “No, it’s not. It’snothing.”

I don’t understand. She been acting like every second I’m in her presence is a colossal inconvenience. She didn’t even want me under her roof for a single night. She tried sending my ass to jail just so I couldn’t. But now she’s saying a month with me around isnothing?

It’s not nothing, not even for me. I’ve only spent a few days with Ever and I’m already sick of her.

Out of nowhere, she releases a laugh unlike any previous ones, so much throat in it, that has my attention snapping up to see some motherfucker hugging her from behind, whispering something into her neck.

One of Ever’s hands appears on the back of his head, holding him to her.

The entire scene before me—sky, trees, people, every single fucking blade of grass—becomes red, a filter just dropped over my vision in an instant.

Get.

The fuck.

Off.

“Excuse me, miss, that’s no longer allowed,” I say as I approach the two.

They both ignore me, allowing me to pick up a bit of what the dude’s saying. Something about pickles.

What the fuck is the deal with the pickles?

“They’re in the car,” Ever’s telling him just as I rip her out of his embrace.

This time I do steady her, but I don’t bother removing my arms after she’s balanced, caging her in against me.

Dude eyes me harder than the brunette just did. “Who are you?”

Squirming, Ever digs her elbows into my ribs.

Through the sharp pain, I say, “Crue Brantley, Miss Munreaux’s personal protection agent, as well as the only one here with clearance to touch her. Until we identify Mr. Munreaux’s stalker, everyone is a suspect.”

Ever stills, but spins in my hold, the top of her head skimming my chin. As usual, she’s anything but calm as a whole-ass storm rages in her gaze.

“Nathen’s not dangerous,” she argues.

Him holding her so intimately felt pretty goddamn dangerous to me.

“Can’t be too careful,” I deadpan.

“Umm…that’s gonna be a problem, Zero,” Nathen says…I guess to Ever. Not sure why the fuck they keep calling her Zero though. The only thing zero about Ever Munreaux is my tolerance level for her bullshit.

Over Ever’s head, I tell Nathen, “It’s only a problem for those that lay a finger on my protectee without prior authorization.”

My threat hovers around us, making every muscle in the small group tense. Or maybe it’s just my muscles. I want to fight. I want to fighthim.

“Right! Well!” her friend—Scoops?—says with a clap and a strained laugh. “Ever, we’ll meet you over there.”

“That’s not true,” Ever argues as soon as her friends are out of earshot, and I finally release her.

---