Page 13 of Vow to Protect
“The only agenda I have, is to get away from that man.” She nibbles on the side of her thumb. “It was stupid of me to think you’d help, for her, for your daughter.” Her voice thickens like she’s wrestling with despair.
My temper cracks at the mention of Tilly. She’s one topic strictly out of bounds. “What’s that supposed to mean?’ I seize her elbow, looking her up and down.
Raen teeters on high heels, wide eyed and startled.
Wet lips and feminine fragrance.
Alluring and vulnerable.
I crack out my neck. As much as I admire the woman’s fight, I’ll leave her to rot if she exposes my daughter. “Do not bring my daughter into this,” I grit out in caution. “She’s off limits.”
“My sister might have been lost in this world. She might have hated the person she’d become, but the one thing that made her proud was that little girl of hers. That was the only good thing that came from her tragic life. And you, Mr. De Courcy, she trustedyouwith her.” She glares at me as if I’m despicable. Her hands tremble, and she jerks back, freeing herself from my snare. “The same man who turned his back on me when I asked for help. You’re as heartless as the monster who locks my door every night and promises me nothing, not even a tomorrow. I have no idea what he’s planning to do with me tonight, tomorrow or even next week.” Fingertips pad the necklace, emotion thick in her voice.
Her chin dips, and she sighs in defeat. The melodic rhythm of her thrumming pulse invokes a carnal energy that dares me to hug her. It’s a disorientated emotion, more concentrated than love and more distinct than hate. I won’t let her cloud my number one priority––being a father. Backing her into the wall, I cage her quaking body. We’re inches apart. Hellishly close.
“You’re not locked up now. Why would he treat you differently if he’s not fucking you? You have the opportunity to run.”
Her eyes pop with a look of horror. “Don’t be fooled by all this. Icouldrun away, you’re right. If I make it past his men. They watch my every move. I’m surprised he hasn't ordered them to escort me to the washrooms.” She stills for a beat. Black pupils flash like she’s reliving a nightmare. Her palm hovers over the extravagant display of wealth and control spanning her chest. A shiver runs down her spine, showering her arms with visible bumps. “I told you before. I have no identity, no cash, no bank cards, no family, no car—where the hell would I go, and how would I get there? And then, when he finally tracks me down, I’ll be…” Her breath catches. A sheen of desolation glosses the restless green of her eyes. “I can't leave this country. I’ve nowhere to go and no one to save me. That deranged psycho takes pride in studying his enemies and chooses the right time to strike.” She gulps back wishful confidence only for it to shatter in a tremor.
Her vulnerability catches me off guard. She's not a liar or a scammer, just a hapless beauty begging for a free ride out of hell. I tip into her, as if our lips will meet, because in that second, I fear they might. It’s a flicker of insanity. Lethal unwanted desire.
“I’ll help you, Raen. You have my word.” A total eclipse takes place. My grudge towards this world kneels down before me. I’m prepared to kill any bastard who hurts a single hair on this woman’s head. “Once I get you away from him, I’ll organise a DNA test. But be warned, If you’re lying to me, I’ll hand you back to him myself,” I lie, resisting the sick urge to keep her for my own ungodly devices.
A quick flicker of havoc shadows her green gaze. It compels me to draw back, collect my senses and regain control.
I regret the evening she will spend with her tormentor, but I can’t work miracles. If I snatched her away now, trouble would follow me home. “Give me time to sort something out.” I check my watch. Tilly will finish her bath any minute now. It's important that I’m home for story time. No excuses. “I have to go,” I say in a gruff whisper.
She nods, her forehead drifting closer and lips glistening. Metal slams against the wall and a bluesy rhythm strums. Light splits the shadows. Raen lurches sideways, like we’d never been close. I can’t describe the sudden dark aura of fury vibrating from her entire body. It switches to sinister the second she hears her name.
“Raen?” A hand snakes her waist. Her face blanches as she feigns a smile and rolls into the man who brought her here. “Who have we got here?” An icy gaze scrutinises my fine suit and shaded features, lingering on my golden ring.
I guess women would find him attractive, some might say pretty, but his observant eyes are steely and vacant. A coward cloaked in riches. Clearly not born into wealth or status. The expensive clothes do not make the man. And this man is nothing without his false throne. I’ll happily abduct his prisoner and knock off his crown.
Zatruc, my ringside adversary, eyes me with recognition. He doesn’t say a word, staying a step behind the man I can only assume is Blaine Casey.
“Nobody,” she replies, forcing courage and trying hard to disguise trembling hands. “He dropped his phone, and I picked it up for him. That’s all.”
The guy winks at me, quirking his mouth to a wry smile. “Better luck next time. She’s a beauty, isn't she? It runs in the family.” His fingers squeeze either side of her mouth, stretching her regal neck. Smug bastard. “She scrubs up well with my priceless collar around her throat.” He sneers, the show of valued assets clearly directed at me. “Our guest is waiting patiently in the bar. Let’s go.” With a snap of his fingers, he turns away, expecting her to follow.
Black rage creeps up my legs, into my core and flares out to my curled hands. I manage to clear my throat, acting unperturbed, and glance at my phone. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to sort out a rat problem.”
“You look familiar.” Blaine’s thin lips twitch, and his eyes narrow.
I discreetly read an incoming message.
FOX: Affirmative.
I shrug casually. “You don’t look familiar to me at all.”And you’ve signed your fate.
Blaine contorts his lips to a thoughtful twist. I sidestep the shit show of authority, lowering my lashes once to Zatruc.
It takes all my resolve to walk away from her. To leave her in the hands of the enemy. But I do, I saunter into the piano bar with the gait of a man who can take on the fucking world, one filthy rat at a time.
I sitat the round lacquered table in the rich man's paradise staring at the flute of champagne. It’s an odd thing to be envious of how bubbles are so happy and free. They simply fizzle up to the surface, reaching freedom or their end, both just as liberating.
There was a time in my life when everything was that simple, when I could walk alone without fear, eat alone without hate and sleep alone without the aspiration to drive cold steel into a man’s heart.
It’s been well over an hour since I bumped into Brett, with those eyes so dark like the deepest shade of midnight and glittering with amber stars of hope that reach a whole extra dimension. I didn’t mean to drift into his gaze, not intentionally. He’s given me his word. I pray that it’s worth its weight in gold. The concept of a man swooping in to my rescue fills me with equal measures of self-pity and relief.
