Page 32 of Twisted Devotion

Facing the woman again, I quickly rip the firearm from her weak grasp and toss it aside before grabbing her, my fingers digging into her shoulders until she cries out.

I waste no time snaring her gaze and compelling her to stand down and stop trying to harm Jackson.

She sinks to the ground, sobbing and clutching her chest.

When I glance up, I find Jackson is gone, having left the back door open. Minutes later, several members of the security team surround the lot and take the woman away. Dex is with them, so I tell him I’m taking Jackson home.

I walk back toward Jackson and pin him with a glare. I’m about to scold him for disregarding my instruction when he lifts his hand to my face and cups my cheek. “What—?”

“You’re hurt,” Jackson murmurs, frowning.

I blink at him, but I don’t move away from his touch. The warmth of his fingers grazing my tender skin, while mildly uncomfortable, is nice.

Oh no. No, no, no, no.

I swallow hard and break away from his gaze. “I’m fine. It’ll heal fast enough.” Moving out of his grasp, I inspect him from head to toe to ensure he didn’t sustain any injuries.

“I get that was an intense moment, but you really should refrain from checking me out so openly if you want me to believe you’re actually putting effort into our bet.”

I glare at him for several seconds. “I was—”

“I know what you were doing,” he says, the amusement faded from his voice, sincerity having replaced it. “You should feed,” he comments gently, and he’s right—it’ll heal my minor injuries.

“I’ll have Gloria send one to the house later,” I say as we walk to the car.

Jackson nods, glancing at me sideways. “You sure you’re okay?”

I shrug noncommittally. “This is the job, Jackson. That woman was nothing. The threat she posed was so small, it barely warrants the report I’m going to try not to fall asleep drafting.”Ugh.Saying it out loud makes it sound even less enjoyable than it’s going to be.

His brows knit, but he doesn’t say anything else.

“Let’s get going,” I tell him, forcing a smile as I get into the passenger seat, not having the energy to argue over who gets to drive. Once we’re both buckled, I let loose a sigh.

“What?” Jackson asks.

“We still need groceries.”

11

Walking around the grocery store with Jackson isn’t what I pictured when I took this job. Watching him push the cart and look at everything as if he’s never seen food on display before is . . . pretty hilarious. And after the evening we just had, it’s a welcome distraction from the tension in my muscles.

Evidently, Gloria does Jackson’s shopping, because he has no idea where anything is. Lucky for him, this isn’t my first time in a grocery store.

It’s a quick trip. After today’s attack, I want to get home as soon as possible, behind the barricades of Jackson’s home security team. We travel through the store, and I pick up what I think will be good enough to use to make for dinner. Keeping it low maintenance, I grab a package of chicken breasts, a box of penne, a head of broccoli, tomatoes, and jars of basil pesto and pasta sauce.

After we whip through the frozen section and Jax picks out three different flavors of ice cream—to which I don’t protest—we pay and carry the bags out to the car.

When we’re about twenty minutes from the house, I turn to him. “We need to talk about what happened today.” The grocery store wasn’t the place to do so, but now that we’re alone, he needs to hear it. “I shouldn’t have to remind you, but it is apparent I need to. You need to listen to me, Jackson. When I tell you to do something, such as going to get security earlier, you need to do it—without question or some stupid remark. Do you understand?” I don’t wait for him to answer. “Your safety is my job, which means while I’m on guard, I’m in charge of you. You need to get that through your head, or things could get dangerous very fast in a situation like we had today. Got it?”

Jackson laughs under his breath, and I fight the urge to smack him. “Easy, Red.”

“No,” I snap back. “You don’t like being told what to do. I get that, but you need to hear me when I say that I do not care. I don’t care what you do and don’t like.”

“I like you,” he says without taking his eyes off the road, and my eyes go wide.

Well, damn.I wasn’t expecting that response.

And he isn’t finished. “Your fire, your protectiveness of me, the way you don’t take anything from me . . . all of it. It’s very attractive.”

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