Page 12 of UnScripted

“Am I in danger? Is that why some guy’s been tailing me?”

“Yes. You can’t give him the slip like that again. Toad’s a good fella. He’ll keep ya’ safe when you ain’t here. I need you to do everything I say. Is that clear Devon?”

I swallow, “What kind of shit are you mixed up in?”

“It’s club business,” he answers, finally looking at me. “Christ! What in the hell happened to you?” He roars springing out of his chair.

I look down noticing the angry red scratches covering my arms. “It’s nothing, I was out jogging and took a shortcut.”

“Cut the shit. I need to know what happenedright mother fucking now!”

“Nothing. I went for my morning run and decided to cut through the cemetery.”

He hisses through his teeth, “Follow me.”

He leads me out of his office and down a hall off-limits to anyone who’s not a member of Creed. He opens a door, and I gasp as he lifts a storm trap door built into the floor revealing a wooden staircase that goes down to the dark.

“No. No way,” I shake my head as he gestures for me to go down.

A hand gently nudges my hip.

“I-I’m claustrophobic.”

“In. Or I’ll carry you down.”

I gulp, knowing he’s serious.

One foot hesitantly steps forward, he’s right behind me, the heat coming from his body warming my back.

I close my eyes, walking down the stairs step by step. His large arm wraps around my waist pulling me back against the front of his large frame. His head dips low by mine as he bends over me and reaches forward with one hand to pull on a hanging light.

“You doin’ okay?”

“Fine,” I squeak out, freaking out that he’s actually touching me. But freaking out even more at how my body’s reacting to the feel of his. A thousand sparks crackle and ignite, leaping across my skin and it makes no sense. Why this man? Why here? Why now?

I shake my head, moving forward, taking that last step onto a concrete floor.

“What is this place? A bunker?”

“I suppose so,” he shrugs moving past me down another small hall. It’s a maze of halls and rooms, like a modern-day underground hideout but this one is filled with food and ammo. He leads me to a small bathroom and flips on the light. “Sit.”

He opens the cabinet taking out antiseptic and cotton balls. My eyes follow as his huge hands dab each wound tenderly. But it still stings as the liquid antiseptic touches my skin. He leans down, blowing softly on my skin then dabs some ointment and places Band-Aids on top.

“There. All better. Now, are you gonna tell me what happened?”

“Some guy freaked me out. I got spooked and ran through the woods down to the road.”

“I figured,” he takes my chin in his hand, “don’t lie to me again. I can’t protect ya’ if you don’t tell me the truth.” He takes a deep breath, “Did he hurt ya’? Try anything?”

“N-no. But he had a gun. He was reaching behind his back, and I ran.”

He grips the sink so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if it rips right off the wall. “If anything like that happens again, you come to me? Got it?”

I swallow hard, knowing how many secrets I’m hiding from him and wishing I could just let myself fall forward to feel his strong arms around me again. Just one more time, before he learns the truth about who I am and why I’m here and stops looking at me like something he wishes he could have.

“Rog?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you single?”

“It ain’t gonna happen, sweetheart.”

“Why not?” I bite back, wondering what’s wrong with me.

“You’re jailbait, too young for me sugar. Besides, I don’t dip my stick where I work, especially inemployees.”

“I’m over thirty and I won’t be your employee past the rest of summer,” I reply swinging my hips as I walk away.

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