Page 51 of His to Protect

I despised it.

I wanted to rip it off her.

Her disbelief at a man’s kindness was just one more reminder, a red flag, that Trina hadn’t had a decent man in her life to show her the way, though.

It was that thought that made me grit my teeth together, and I glared through the windshield.

“And Boomer will be okay?” she asked, turning to face me. Fear and exhaustion lined her eyes, and it wasn’t from lack of sleep.

This woman was tired. Tired of her life, tired of running.

I didn’t blame her.

“I swear to you, sweetheart, Blue is always at Tyson’s house and will treat the large oaf like he’s her child. She doesn’t have an unkind bone in her body.”

“You’re right.” She sucked in a breath and squeezed my hand, entwining our fingers together. “I’m just worried.”

“I know, but Boomer isn’t something to be worried about. He’s in good hands and he’ll be safe. Just like Tyson and I will ensure you will be, too.”

She rolled her lips as if wanting to say something, then changed her mind. With her free hand, she leaned forward and began flicking through the radio stations.

I let her have the distraction.

“What are you doing?” I asked when she settled on a station that sounded like squawking. Horrific, tinny, squawking. Squawking like a flock of birds dying a slow and painful death.

“It’s country music.”

“Uh, no.” I was teasing her. I couldn’t care less what she listened to, even if I might need to bleach that sound out of my brain later.

“Uh, yes,” she said, turning to me with wide eyes. “You drive, I choose the music. If you’d let me drive—”

“No chick drives a car when a man is in it. It’s un-American.”

“Then the passenger gets to choose the music. It’s only fair, and fortunately for you, you’re in luck,” she teased back. “Because I’m patriotic and country music is the most American thing you can listen to.”

I thought of a thousand rock bands that were more American than the crap making my ears bleed. The Doors, Eagles, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Rolling Stones, just to name a few off the top of my head.

“Whatever. I’ll deal.” I looked back out the front window, keeping my eyes ahead.

But a smile stretched my lips as her light, tinkling laughter filled the car, making the country bullshit she was forcing on me bearable.

Almost.

—

Trina eyed the check in my hand and I watched her fighting back tears.

“This is the smartest thing you can do.” I draped my arm over her shoulders, pressing her to me. “If he’s following you, you know he’s got someone trying to find your car.”

“I know.” She sniffed and nodded, swiping her fingertips over her cheek. “I’ve had that darn car for so long, it’s hard to say goodbye.” She looked up at me, eyes glimmering with more tears, and whispered, “Boomer and that car are the only things I have…from before.”

Which explained why she was driving a car several years old and not brand-new. I would have thought Kevin wouldn’t want her in anything except the best. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe she drove something better around town in Kentucky. But the fact that she kept hold of this one thing just proved how much fight she had in her when it was important. I never wanted to ask about the car before, but hearing it from her then made it feel like a wrench was tightening around my heart.

I held out the check we’d just gotten for her car. With as much as it was, she could buy anything she wanted. “Think of this as a fresh start. Leave everything behind”—I smiled—“except for Boomer, and move on from the past.”

“Right.” A spark of determination gleamed in her shining eyes and she wiped away more tears. “We’re moving on.”

I pushed down my smile. “Yeah, we are.”

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