Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

JACOB

I feel like a different man from the one who attended Emma's graduation party. That Jacob was savage in taking what I thought was mine. I didn't stop to think. So I've been spending the past six months diving deep into the world of perverts, devils, and evil bastards, leading several operations and taking several lives.

I thought Rafael almost had me. I went rogue chasing his operation. I almost got handed my ass by the big bosses upstairs, but I managed to escape with my job and my life. My body stings from the punishment he dished out.

All he wanted was a response, and he got one when he showed me that photo of Emma. She wasn't the focal point of the picture or his threat. Mike was, but I couldn't stop staring at Emma, her beautiful features. I had no idea there was a scumbag out there who'd happily take her life.

Sitting behind the wheel of my pickup, drumming my fingers against the steering wheel, I wait for Mike and Emma to emerge from the house. I don't think Rafael would be stupid enough to do this, but he's got a reputation for being petty and personal. Some men do what he does because they enjoy their product , the sick fucks. Others do it for purely financial reasons. Then there are the ones like Rafael, who do it for the feeling of power it gives them.

I will seriously have to tame my mind when Emma walks out here. I'm going to have to stamp on any desire. The memory of her body, the kiss of her slit before she made that awful ouch noise… Fuck, I need to bury it all: the passion in her eyes, the taste of her lips.

I flinch, turning at a noise, hand going for my hip. Mike frowns at me from the open passenger-side door. "You good?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say, seeing Emma at the periphery of my vision. I don't turn to greet her properly, my body already responding to her closeness. The pain from the beating fades to complete silence. All my body is willing to acknowledge is how close she is, sending savage signals throughout my body, telling me to claim her right now, ignoring her dad, ignoring my friend .

They stow their things in the back and then climb into the car. Emma sits in the back. I glance in the rearview. She's wearing a thick hoodie, her arms wrapped around her middle with the hood pulled up as she stares down into the footwell. She looks so beautiful, wrapped up, like a gift just for me.

I bite down so hard I almost cause myself pain, burying that thought with all the other deranged notions whispering through my mind, telling me to grab her, find a private place, and tear off her clothes.

"We should hit the road," I say.

"Yeah, we should be able to get there by sunrise." Emma looks up and makes eye contact with me in the rearview. She's got that confident-shy look on her face again, like the confidence is trying to bust through the shy shield. She stares a challenge at me.

"Yeah, we should," I reply, giving her nothing, making myself cold.

That's what I'll have to be now. I've tried avoiding her, only visiting Mike when I'm sure she's at her mother's. Obviously, I can't do that anymore, so I'll have to shut my feelings down instead. Even now, with Mike sitting beside me, the hunger tries to grip me. It's like I'm a vampire, and she's the only person I can feast on. I want her perfect, thick body so badly.

Mike gives me a tight look. I know he doesn't enjoy lying to her. I don't enjoy lying to him .

Starting the engine, I pull away from their house. Emma isn't an idiot. She knows something's up. This might be one of the few cases where imagination is better than knowing the truth. If she learned who Rafael was and what he'd do to her if he ever caught her…

I can't even think about it. It'll send me into a rage. I'd beat a hundred men to death with my bare hands before I let a single one touch her.

I drive through the night, Mike falling asleep, resting his cheek against his bag, and turning into the window. I think Emma is sleeping, too, before she sighs and says, "I guess you and Dad think I'm pretty stupid, right?"

I glance at Mike. He's breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling almost exaggeratedly. He's taking the news well, like I knew he would. He understands the realities of my profession, but I never meant to bring this hell back to his doorstep. I never intended to risk his daughter's life—my woman's life.

"I don't think you're stupid, Emma," I say.

Even to myself, I sound overly robotic, as if I'm trying too hard to be distant and cold. That's true, but I can't risk letting out even one percent of my feelings. If I do, it'll be game over. Then, it will all come rushing out. It will consume me, consume us both. I shift, my bandages rubbing against my back.

"So you expect me to believe we're driving down the highway in the middle of the night because… we just want to get to the cabin super fast? Just because? "

I grit my teeth, knowing I'll need to give her something more, but I can't tell her who Rafael is. I can't watch her face melt into pure dread as I explain what this monster would do to her. She doesn't deserve to hear that sort of pain. She doesn't deserve to experience that agony. I'll shield her from it.

"I think you know there's more going on. You know what I do for a job."

"I don't, actually," she says. "I know it's something mysterious, but Dad will never say."

I sigh. Speaking with her shouldn't feel this illicit, as if I'm breaking a thousand rules whenever I open my mouth. I feel like a real scumbag just by being close to her.

"I work for an agency that deals with child traffickers on an international level. At first, I was in special operations, but then I founded a private company. We work in accordance with the government, but we can go further while Uncle Sam turns a blind eye."

"How haven't I heard about this?" she asks. "I mean, even online, there's no mention of anything."

She's been searching for me online, then. I can't think about her sitting in bed, maybe with some PJs that show off her thick legs, biting her lip as she searches me online. Goddamn it, Mike is sleeping right there . Yet I can't forget the way his daughter moaned and the way I left her, kneeling and covered in my release. What the fuck is wrong with me?

"That's on purpose," I tell her. "Officially, I'm living on my pension. I don't have a lavish lifestyle. There's no reason for anybody to suspect any different. Anyway, all the money goes into the company. There was so much we couldn't do when I worked for the Feds." My voice gets a rare tinge of passion. It's like, with my woman, I can let out some of this fire. Yet it's so wrong with her dad right across from me.

"The worst part was that we often couldn't bring the kids home. That's why I started the company. We build relationships with foreign police forces. We offer our help, and, honestly, Emma?"

"Yeah, I'd always prefer you to be honest."

She looks at me with intensity. I focus on the road to stop us from crashing. It's not as though there's any traffic to worry about, but just the sight and the closeness of her is almost enough to send me into an obsessive fury again. The way I grabbed her, owned her, fuck.

Stop .

"Sometimes," I go on, "I hurt those bastards way more than I'd be able to under Uncle Sam's watch. Explain to me why you should be able to break into a child's home, steal them, then live. Explain that."

She blinks, and I realize I'm letting out too much. Mike is still stubbornly asleep. He's always been able to sleep easily, a skill I envy.

"That's not right," she says.

I shift against the seat. I must wince a little because Emma asks, "Are you hurt?"

The grubby loft flashes in my mind, Rafael and the whip, the men staring. I had to time all of it so perfectly. I knew the shock would only give me a few seconds. I swept through the motions like a dance, smashing Rafael in the face, grabbing his gun, and shooting the guards who got in my way.

If I'd had time, I would've turned and shot Rafael, too. It would've been better than the lowlife deserved, but I had to focus on my escape, Mike, and Emma . If he even tried to hurt her…

"I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine."

Mike snorts from beside us. I think he's waking up. I'm half grateful for it because it means the questions will stop, but there's also something comforting about speaking to Emma. It makes me feel calmer than I have in a long time, maybe ever, especially after the madness in Mexico.

"Just a couple of battle wounds," I tell her.

"I guess that's the reason we're running, then?"

"Give me your theory."

"Okay, rude."

I chuckle. I can't help it as I drive down the ghostly highway. "Was I being rude?"

"I don't think you even realize it," she says with a grin. "I think it just comes naturally to you. You get this mean tone like you want to keep people away."

"Maybe that's what it's for," I say.

"Do you want to keep me away, then?" she says, a hitch in her voice.

I glance at Mike, leaning against the window, snoring peacefully. I don't think he's pretending to be asleep. I've broken into enough homes to tell when it's real, or somebody is lying too stiffly or alert, and then they spring up. Even this is fucked, having to wonder if my best friend is faking sleep.

I don't answer her question.

"Do you still want my theory?" she asks after a pause.

"Sure."

"You got into some trouble with some bad men. They threatened Dad. Now, we're on the run."

I sigh darkly. "I'm not sure your dad would want you to know that."

"Don't lie to me," she says. "I heard you before. It was your idea not to tell me."

"I didn't want to scare you," I snap.

"If we're in danger, maybe I should be scared."

"No, you shouldn't," I growl far too passionately. "You don't have to be afraid of anything, Emma. That's why I'm here."

I remember how Rafael grinned as she showed me the photo, thinking it was Mike my heart was hammering for. He grinned, flashing a gold tooth from the back of his mouth and a silver one at the front, giving his smile a strange winking effect.

"Shouldn't we call the cops?" she asks.

"The cops won't be able to do anything. Nobody would take this case. It's a threat made to scare me because their torture didn't work out. It doesn't tick any of the right boxes."

"Wait… torture? "

I'm so accustomed to the dark side of life that sometimes I forget there are civilians out there, regular people just going about their business. Innocent, beautiful people like Emma cringe at the idea of things that, to me, seem normal, the way things have always been and will always be. But nobody is as beautiful as Emma.

"That isn't important," I grunt.

"We can talk about it if you want," she says quietly.

"It's like not that," I tell her. "I haven't got all these feelings waiting to burst out. I'm not scarred or haunted by any of this. I'm just a machine; my function is to keep you and your dad safe."

"That's what you want people to think."

I grind my teeth, shaking my head, refusing to look at her in the rearview. If I did that, she'd see how right she is.