Page 53 of Pack Rivals: Part Two
“No.”
“Oh-kay,” he says slowly, “then I’ll just be keeping an eye on you from over here, making sure you’re all right.”
I swing my head around and waggle the knife at him again. “Oh no you don’t. You played the whole we-need-to-keep-you-safe bullshit before. I’m not falling for it again.”
“It wasn’t bullshit. We care about you. I care about you. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“It won’t.”
“Omega, you were just kidnapped from the hospital.”
A shudder runs down my spine. I’ve been trying my best not to think about that. To put it firmly out of my mind along with all the other crap.
“You know, rather than insisting on babysitting me all the time,” I say to him, “teaching me how to defend myself would be pretty darn useful.”
“You did a pretty good job with that doctor.”
I frown. “I’m serious. Courtney’s been more use to me than any of you guys. She has actually taught me stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“The eye gouging.”
He nods. “That’s sensible stuff.”
“But there must be more.”
“Bea,” he says, “how tall are you?”
“Five three,” I say. Silver raises an eyebrow. “In heels.”
“And I know you weigh practically nothing.” I snort at that but he continues with the steely stare. “Eye gouging is your best line of defense. I’m not going to waste your time teaching you how to throw a dude over your shoulder, because I’m telling you now, in real situations that stuff doesn’t work.” My frown deepens, and he sighs. “I’m serious, sweetheart. I once knew this man; he was a champion kickboxer. He got mugged on the street, tried to kick the dude in the head. Ended up with a bullet through his foot.”
“Is this meant to make me feel better,” I say. “Because I just got myself abducted, Silver, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life too scared to leave the house.”
“You don’t need to be. We’ll be watch–”
“I don’t want you to be watching. I want to know what to do!” I say with frustration.
He examines my face, his own not giving away the thoughts circulating in his mind. “Run,” he says.
“Run?” I repeat.
“If you’re ever in trouble, Bea. If the situation ever feels off, then you run.”
“Run? What kind of advice is that?”
“Good advice. A successful soldier knows when to stay and fight, and when to get the hell out. You’re fast. Nimble. Light on your feet. You could outrun a lot of people.” The skin beneath his eye twitches. “You could outrun me on a good day.”
I can’t help grinning. “I could.”
“Yeah,” he mumbles, “I have a hard time keeping up with you.” I grin wider and he adds quickly, “I’m a lot bigger and heavier than you.”
My gaze can’t help involuntarily flicking down his frame. He most definitely is.
“Okay,” I concede, “running it is.”
“But,” he adds, and I roll my eyes like a sulky teenager, “I think it would be wise to take up my offer. If this is how you want to spend your time,” he says softly, “then I’m more than happy to watch over you. Or if you’d prefer it wasn’t me, I can arrange for one of my men to come watch you instead.”
