Page 11 of The Ruthless Guardian

At the gate… Oh yeah, someonewashere. "Reaper, one of the members." Reaper actually got to be a member faster than I did, and I didn’t think that would be possible. He practically skipped prospecting because he protected Pres’s daughter.

"Members of what?" Phoebe says softly, drawing me back to the conversation we’d be having if I could pay attention.

"The club."

Phoebe blinks. "Josiah, you're not making any sense."

Why is she calling me that? Nobody calls me that. I haven't heard that name in nine years until today. "The club… The Restless Kings. It's an MC."

"But what does thatmean?"

"Motorcycle club. We're a motorcycle club."

"Like the ones on TV?"

Shit, that’s right. She’s not from around here. She has no idea what the club is or who we are, but I don’t know how to compare what we are to anything she’s familiar with. "I don't watch TV,” I tell her. “I don't know."

She melts lower, scrunching herself up until she's down on the floor in the shape of a pencil with her arms all the way above her head. It's a position that should be innocent, but it's been a long time since I've had a woman this close to me for an extended period of time and it's starting to sink in. We're sharing a space, the beautiful girl and I. And it's a confined space. There's only one bed so she offered to take the couch.

"You can't sleep on the couch." It wouldn’t be right for me to let her sleep on the hard couch while I sleep in my bed. We’ll figure something out, but I don’t like the idea of her being far from me.

She frowns and stays silent until her face relaxes again. "I need snacks."

"That sounds fucking amazing." The munchies are hitting me and a snack sounds like the best thing on the planet right now. I force myself to my feet and hold out my hand for her, pulling her up and pointing for her to go ahead of me up the stairs.

She starts, puts her foot on the first step, then pulls back and looks at me. “What if someone’s up there?”

My eyebrows pull together as I stare down at her. Her reactions are starting to bother me. She’s really fucking paranoid, for one thing. Her anxiety rivals mine when I first moved into the safehouse, and she doesn’t trust that it’s safe. That’s probably because she didn’t handpick every item and she’s only been here a couple hours, but it bugs me. I’m not sure how to prove the security of this place to her.

“Who’s after you?” I ask gently, trying not to send her spiraling again. I don’t want to scare her, but I really need to know. I need to know what I’m protecting her from to do it the best I can. And so I can kill the bastard, because that also sounds like the best thing on the fucking planet.

“I can’t tell you,” she whispers back, giving me a big-eyed look that begs me to stop asking. “Are you going to kick me out if I don’t?” She’s afraid ofme, and I hate that more than her secretive behavior.

“No.” I stomp up the stairs as my high fades away into anger. I don’t like that she doesn’t feel safe here. That’s kind of the whole fucking point of this place. I’m going to have to find a way to prove it to her, and in the meantime, I’m going to have to have Doc bring her some anti-anxiety meds or something. She can’t be walking around constantly on the brink of a panic attack.

And I’m not going to kick her out if she doesn’t tell me. That sounds ridiculous. If she’s in so much danger she’s afraid to even confess what caused it, she doesn’t need to be one the outside. The medicine Doc has me on formyparanoia makes me able to handle certain things, like a new girl in my house without knowing all her secrets, but it doesn’t take it away completely.

Something is still fucking wrong, and I’m not going to be very comfortable until I figure it out.

Chapter Nine

Skids

“Here’s a blanket and a pillow. If you get cold, there are more blankets in the closet at the top of the stairs.” I wish she would agree to switch with me and sleep on the bed, but maybe it will only be for tonight so I won’t have to feel so bad. Maybe tomorrow I’ll find what I couldn’t today, kill the fucker that scares her, and send her on her way.

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything else you need?” I feel like I’m forgetting something, forgetting to offer her something or provide something, but I’m not sure what it might be. “If you want to shower or anything, go for it. And if you get scared, you can come and wake me up. I won’t be mad.”

She nods her head, looking nervous and I don’t know how to take that from her. I feel protective of Phoebe, like it’s my job to keep her safe, and I’m frustrated that I’ve sequestered myself away from the world and other people for so long that I have no idea what to do to make her feel comfortable here with me.

“Can I do anything else for you?” Maybe she knows what I’m forgetting, unless the thing I’m forgetting is to fuck off. Am I crowding her space? Making her uncomfortable?

She shakes her head and gives me a grin. “I’m fine. You’ve done everything. I’m just going to lay down and try to get some sleep.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Phoebe.” The unaccomplished feeling is still nagging at me after she bids me goodnight and I head upstairs. I couldn’t find anything in her records and that’s bothering me. Something isn’t right about her story and the information Iwasable to dig up. It just doesn’t make sense.

The ceiling over my bed doesn’t have any of the answers either, but I don’t stop staring at it just in case, mentally rearranging file folders of hints. Phoebe is fucking terrified of whoever might be looking for her, and I don’t like it. She barely ate at dinner, but that’s probably because we raided all the snacks and ate our way through two bags of popcorn and a big bag of cheese puffs.

---