Page 33 of Tactical Lies

August 19th

1:27 A.M.

She had to be crazy to have agreed to this.

Even as she thought that, Becca knew there was no other option.

Someone was after her because of her past connection to Connor, and even though it might seem like the smartest option was to put as much distance as possible between herself and her former boyfriend, she believed the opposite was true.

Who better to protect her from his enemies than Connor himself?

Already he’d killed for her, protected her, and got her out of the camp where she would have been gang raped and killed. He could keep her safe, that wasn't the issue, the issue was protecting her heart.

There was no way she could allow herself to put it on the line again.

What if Connor broke it all over again?

“Why don’t you go lie down, there's a bed in the back,” Connor suggested when she shifted uncomfortably in her seat again.

They were in a private jet that belonged to Prey Security, heading back home. The plane was nice, so much fancier than anything she’d ever been in, than she’d ever be in again, but she couldn’t enjoy it. Her emotions were all jumbled together in a tangled mess inside her chest, and she didn't have the energy to work on untangling them.

Being near Connor hurt more than the bruised ribs and lump on her head, but being away from him hurt more.

She was so tired of hurting.

If a genie came out of a lamp and offered her three wishes, her first would be to make it so she never met Dylan Sanders. Because then she never would have been raped, lost her foot, and got left with ugly scars, or lost Connor in the first place.

But longing for wishes was childish.

If there was one thing she’d been forced to learn over the last twelve years, it was that bad things happened and you had to learn how to accept them and keep moving forward.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll do that,” she agreed, shoving to her feet. The future was too uncertain for her to allow Connor to become her safe place again. They’d been there and done that and he’d bailed. Letting herself fall into old patterns could wind up yielding the same outcome.

“Hey.” Connor caught her hand as she moved past his seat heading for the bedroom at the back of the plane. “I’ve already contacted Prey, and they’ve started looking for Bella. If anyone can find her, we can.”

While she appreciated that the company he worked for was going to look for Izzy, she wasn't naïve enough to think that finding her would be easy.

It wouldn't.

In fact, it would be next to impossible.

“I appreciate it,” she assured him, gently tugging her arm free. If she let him touch her, she would end up throwing herself into his arms and begging him to never leave her side again, and that wouldn't be good for either of them.

Connor let her go, and she hurried down into the back room. There was a nice, big, comfortable-looking bed in there, and she climbed onto it and curled up in a ball in the center. It was much harder to be around Connor than she would have guessed if you'd asked her a week ago. He’d been right there beside her while they answered questions, supporting her, watching over her, ensuring she was checked out by a doctor, and that she ate and drank water.

He was taking care of her like he used to and every cell in her body screamed at her to give in and let things go back to how they used to be.

But they couldn’t.

You couldn’t go back in life only forward.

Despite her whirring mind, exhaustion quickly took over now that she was lying down and drifted off into a restless sleep.

“Pretty girl.”

Becca looked over her shoulder to see the man from the tent approaching.

She screamed.

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