4. Chapter 4

4

S he stabbed me.

I'm trained to see things. I can spot a shooter in camouflage, or a deer on the side of the road while driving. Point-blank, I'm very good at finding things that are hidden within plain sight. So, Blake having a knife completely shocked me. I hadn't expected her to have a weapon, let alone use it. And most of all, I wasn't prepared to be turned on by her stabbing me. Pain isn't new to me. The look on Blake's face when the blade slid into my skin, realizing what she had done, was both beautiful and the saddest thing I've seen.

In the military you see a lot of men become scared when faced with danger. Unsure if they'll pull the trigger. Although Blake was scared, she was aware enough to protect herself. It wasn't until she looked up and saw me, that there was that glint of regret. It was small, but still there, nonetheless.

I couldn't figure out what caused her to freak out like she had. I had just pulled off to get gas before we drove for a few more hours. Blake had been passed out, twitching against the door but asleep. Now she flinches at every bump we hit and when I lean too far into the middle. She keeps her hood over her head, only glancing at me when she thinks I can't see her .

It's kind of cute when she peeks over and catches me already looking at her. She always frowns and rolls those big green eyes at me.

It's not until a few hours later that Blake throws something at my head, and I jerk the wheel. I wasn't sure if I was more embarrassed that she spooked me or that I was so caught up in my mind that I wasn't paying enough attention to my surroundings. So much so that I missed her demeanor change.

"What the fuck?" I growl, glancing over at Blake. She sits to the side, her knees still pressed against the door like she's mad at me. I have no idea why she would be. Not when a few hours ago we came to a sort of middle ground that when shit hits the fan, because in this line of business how can you not expect it to, she would listen to me. I doubt she would, but I hope Blake would surprise me.

"What do you need?" I growl, focusing back on the road. Thankfully it's nearing dark, and the roads are beginning to clear.

Peeking over, Blake's hands move, and I realize she's trying to talk to me.

"Well, fuck," I mutter. I'm not sure why I thought I would be able to just read her mind, or suddenly know sign language. "Alright, you're going to need to slow it down. Like way down," I mumble, turning the already shut-off radio down.

Blake blows out silent raspberries, glancing out the window. I knew it was going to be difficult with this language barrier, but I didn't think it was going to be that bad.

Her hands begin to move slower this time, sticking her arm straight out before pointing to mine.

"I'm not understanding."

Blake tries once more before I shake my head, confused about what she's trying to tell me along with the fact I can't stare at her and try to play the guessing game.

"Blake, I don't und—" Blake grabs my wrist, yanking it toward her. My eyes widen, snapping my head toward her. Not only was she willing to touch me, but she dug her nails into my skin, a deep frown plastered to her face.

I open my mouth to say something, my eyes bouncing between the road and her face. Only I stop when she slowly traces her fingertips across my forearm .

"Slower," I mumble when she traces my arm for the fifth time. One letter at a time, she traces into my arm, waiting for me to guess. "P," I say, glancing over for her to nod. "Okay…e….e. Oh fuck, you have to piss."

Blake nods her head, pointing to the exit that's coming up. Of course, she has to use the bathroom. We've been on the road for five hours. I only stopped once, and she freaked out and stabbed me.

"Okay, yeah." I nod, switching lanes. "We can stop and get food. I imagine you're hungry?" I ask.

Blake gives me the no fucking shit look and pulls her hood back over her head. Sighing, I follow the exit, looking for a place to eat. Finally, a small diner comes into view. Pulling in, I park, and before I can turn the car off, Blake is yanking the door open.

"Blake!" I snap, throwing the door open. "Blake!" I yell again. Only she doesn't care and sprints into the diner. Running in after her, she's already gone into the bathroom. I wait all of two seconds before tugging the door open and marching inside.

"Blake!" I yell.

The toilet flushes and she comes out of the stall, wide-eyed and glancing around. I know I'm being irrational. There's no reason for me to be inside the women's bathroom chasing after Blake as though I own her. But I'm also in charge of keeping her safe.

"What part of doing as I say do you not understand?" I growl, stepping toward her. Blake steps back, hands fisted at her side. I know she has a knife, and from the look of it, she's moments from pulling it out and stabbing me, again. Just the thought of it makes my side ache and burn.

"Do you have some type of death wish?" I demand. The way she's acting, I wonder why I was even hired to protect her. She seems to be doing just fine on her own. I ought to quit and be done with this headache now.

Blake doesn't shake or nod her head at my question. Biting my inner cheek, I know I need to back off, leave her be, and just go get us a table. But when her hands inch toward her pocket, I know exactly what she's thinking of doing .

Pushing forward, I grab her hands, twisting her around. Blake fights against my hold, and I know I shouldn't be holding her like this. She has trauma, but don't we all? I can't think about that now. Not when I need her to understand me.

"You can't keep stabbing me when I do something you don't like," I growl into her ear. Blake bucks against me, and her ass rams against my crotch, blood rushing south. "I wouldn't do that," I warn. Knowing full well that the moment she does it again she's going to feel my hardness and think I want to fuck her. Granted, I do. Blake is beautiful. My face would be the perfect seat for her gorgeous, full ass. Her tits would spill from my hand, and I know her full, plump lips would look hot stretched around my length. But I'd also rather not get into bed with the mafia, and Blake is the fucking princess of one.

"We're going to walk out of this bathroom, get us a table, and we're going to have a nice conversation about the rules you are going to follow," I order her. "Do you understand?"

Blake bucks against me again, and her ass jams against my crotch. The moment Blake realizes the chub I'm sporting, she stills.

"I asked you a question," I mutter, doing my best to ignore my cock and the way Blake has yet to remove her ass from it. Slowly she nods her head. Dropping my hands, I back away, waiting for her to turn around. Her shoulders rise and fall faster and the moment I realize she's panicking I want to shoot myself.

"Sunshine." I sigh. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—" Blake swings around, glaring up at me. Knife in hand, inches from my cock. I stop breathing, scared for the first time that I'm about to lose my manhood.

"Blake, I—" I'm cut off again when she presses the tip harder against my junk. "Right, okay, you're in control," I hiss.

Blake nods her head, cocking a brow, daring me to say something else. I don't know how I went from being some badass ex-military man, who's a hired hitman, to some guy being held by my balls. But here I am, in some diner, in the women's bathroom, with Blake, holding that said knife.

As if she truly doesn't give a damn, Blake removes the knife, backing away. I breathe a sigh of relief. "Let's go," I mutter. Opening the door, a small elderly woman stops in her tracks, eyes wide as she takes my large frame in and then stops on Blake.

"Shut your mouth," I growl.

Darting around the old lady, I move down between the booths, stopping at an empty one. Turning around I wait for Blake to slowly make her way down. Glaring up at me from her hood, I smirk, knowing full well how pissed off she is. I am too. Holding my hand out, Blake slips into the booth picking the menu up to hide her face from me. Sliding in across from her, I spread my legs out, planting my feet on either side of her. Blake's head snaps up, narrowing her eyes. Raising my brow, I wait for her to do something, only to be interrupted when the waiter comes over.

"Welcome to Bailey's Diner. My name is Danny. Can I get you started with something to drink?"

Neither of us looks up from each other, stuck in a staring match, playing the game who's going to blink first or even look away. Blake thinks she won something when she put that blade against my dick. She didn't, instead, it unlocked some feral need inside me to have her press that against me while I fuck her roughly against the wall.

Even if she's a protection job.

"Uh… I can give you guys a few minutes…" he mutters before he's walking off.

"What's your problem now?" I ask, leaning forward.

Blake doesn't answer, not that I expect her to, but she doesn't even move her hands. It shouldn't bother me, but it does. Even if she's mad at me, I'd rather have her waving her hands around, speaking to me in her language. I don't want to silence her.

"Are you upset that I walked into the women's bathroom or that I touched you?" I asked. "Tap the table once if it's the women's bathroom, or twice if it's because I touched you."

Blake thinks about it for a minute, not glancing away before her hand taps the table. Twice. I knew I fucked up, but I couldn't think logically. Not when she ran from the car into the bathroom, and not when I'm here to keep her safe .

"I'm sorry I did that; you've shown you hate being touched. I went and overstepped your boundaries, and for that I'm sorry." Even if I'm not that sorry.

"Are you ready to order?" The waiter appears once more.

"Diet Coke and…" I trail off. Blake slowly lowers the menu and points down. "A vanilla shake."

The waiter walks away leaving us in an awkward silence. I think this is the first time I've ever been weirded out by the lack of noise. Blake on the other hand just looks over the menu, looking at peace with whatever is going on inside her head. My leg begins to bounce with the uneasiness of her not speaking. Ironically, she's mute, and everything she's not saying somehow causes a reaction out of me.

My leg bounces faster and harder and before I realize it, I'm slamming my leg into Blake. Now who's acting like the brat? Here I am telling her I'm sorry for touching her and then I'm slamming my leg into hers because she's not paying attention to me.

Blake's head snaps up to me, narrowing those fucking eyes at me. At this rate, her face is going to be stuck like that.

"Here are those drinks." Of course, the waiter interrupts us. "Have you guys decided what you want to eat?"

"Cheeseburger, nothing on it, side salad with ranch," I answer. Once more she lays the menu down, pointing to what she wants. "One of the cinnamon rolls… and a side of fries," I mumble. "Blake, you need more than just that." I frown.

She shakes her head, closing the menu and setting it off to the side. The waiter stands there awkwardly as if he doesn't know what to do.

"Blake," I warn.

Slowly she raises her eyes to meet mine, daring me to tell her to order more. It's that look right there that tells me she'll stab me in front of all these people if I even mutter a word about her food choices.

"That'll be all," I growl out.

It doesn't surprise me when Blake smirks into her hood. This little shit is going to be the death of me. And when our food is brought out, I find myself unable to stop looking at her mouth every time she takes a bite of the cinnamon roll, licking the icing off the spoon.

She's truly going to be the death of me.

A few hours later, I pull into a hotel parking lot, exhausted from the lack of sleep, and my body aches from being stuck in a small car for almost two full days now. I was almost tempted to drive through the night and possibly stop at Walker's farm. But Blake was nodding off only to jump when I hit a bump and as much as she needed sleep, so did I. So, as much as it's a risk stopping, I park and turn the car off.

"I'm going to head inside and get us a room. Stay here," I mutter. Opening the door, I shove myself out and slam the door. Taking the first real breath, I didn't think being stuck in a car with her would be such a problem, but something about her boggles my brain.

Something kicks my shin, and my eyes fly open, catching onto Blake's. "We need to work on a better way of getting my attention because between stabbing me and kicking me, I'm not sure you'll have someone to protect you anymore."

Blake full-on grins up at me, and I'm awestruck with how beautiful she is. The moment I saw her, I knew she was, but she was also an angry little kitten. But now, fuck, her lips stretch across her face, and a dimple appears on her left cheek .

"You should smile more often," I blurt out. Only to hate it the moment the words leave my lips because Blake's smile drops, and she's back to scowling at me. One step forward, two steps back.

Sighing, I grab both our duffle bags from the trunk. Throwing them over my shoulder, I bypass Blake and head into the hotel. The lobby is empty and clean with a small couch and a few chairs around a coffee table. A TV hangs in front of the seating area, the volume low enough I can barely make the words out. Heading straight to the counter, an older gentleman stands there.

"One room," I say. Blake is probably going to throw a fit about sharing a room, but there's no way I can protect her if she's in a different room. Or so I keep telling myself. "Two beds."

Blake appears next to me as the guy at the front desk types away, before daring to look up. His eyes immediately fall on her, and I find myself stepping in front, blocking his view.

"Hundred," he mumbles. Pulling cash out, I drop it down, waiting for the key card. The moment he slides it over, I catch his wrist, twisting until it's moments from breaking. "Look at her again like that and I'll do more than break your fucking wrist, got it?" I snap.

"Y—yes, yes I understand," he rushes to say. Shoving his arm back, I grab the keycard and Blake's hand. She tenses under my touch, but I don't care, not right now. My brain is a fog, wrapped around all things her, and I can't get a handle on the emotions swarming around. I know I shouldn't be obsessed with a job. I know it's not her fault. I just don't care.

Keying the door open, I drop my duffle in the doorway, moving around to make sure it's clear. The logical part tells me it is. We're in the middle of nowhere, but the training Walker gave us also tells me to always make sure.

Once I've cleared the room, I grab my duffle from the floor and shut the door. Blake stands with her back against the wall, eyes moving around in every which direction.

"We'll sleep here tonight and then get on the road early in the morning." I stand near the end of the bed, waiting to see what she'll do. One minute she's moments from ripping me apart, threatening to stab my junk. Then she's turning into a little girl who's scared of her own shadow.

"Go take a shower. I'll order us some pizza. Are you allergic to anything?" I ask.

Blake shakes her head but doesn't move from her spot. Not until the sound of a door slamming shut causes her to jump and book it into the bathroom, flinging the door closed behind her before locking it. It's not until the sound of the running water that I drop down onto the bed.

I don't know how I could go from spending days on missions, tracking, hunting, and killing, to feeling exhausted with just spending time in a car. I could blame Blake, but she's the reason I'm honestly still awake. There is a mystery behind what happened to her, a mystery as to why Antonio wants to marry a mute. She is a damaged girl who has some serious issues and I want to figure out all of it.

The door opening breaks me from my thoughts. Blake steps out of the steam-filled bathroom, wearing sweatpants and another sweatshirt, hiding herself from my eyes. Her brown hair almost appears black from being wet.

Blake's hands start moving, noticing I hadn't spoken or stopped staring at her. "I…fuck," I mutter, sitting up.

Dropping her hands, she looks over at the wall where the TV sits before focusing back on me, pointing to her mouth and then rubbing her stomach. It takes me longer than I'd like to admit figuring out what she is trying to say.

"Oh shit, you're hungry?" I ask.

Blake nods.

"Fuck, I forgot to order it. Hold on." Reaching over, I grab the phone from the bedside table, and the phone book inside. Finding a pizza place, I ordered a large cheese pizza and some soda. "It'll be here in thirty. Uh, I'm going to shower," I mumble, grabbing my duffle from the ground.

Blake moves from the door allowing me in. Closing and locking the door, I strip my clothes off before stepping into the shower and turning the water on. The cold water does nothing to help my cock which has been hard since the moment she came out of the bathroom at her parents' house. I'm wrong for having these thoughts invade my brain, but I can't stop them.

My cock is angry and throbs the moment my hand wraps around the base. I'm not sure if I want to force my cock down her throat until she's gagging and begging for air or if I want to pound into her ass, watching her body jiggle underneath me.

Fisting my cock, I swipe my thumb over the head, precum leaking and begging to be released. My thoughts race, imagining her perfect smile while I move in and out of her. My eyes slam shut, my hand working my length. My hand would be the perfect necklace around her dainty throat. Fucking her roughly, watching as she would try and scream, only nothing would come out from the pressure I had around her neck. She'd gasp for air when I finally let her breathe, only to be stuck the moment I shoved my cock into her mouth. She's sucking me, hollowing her cheeks, draining me down her throat like a good girl.

Pleasure builds in my balls, the harder I tug on my dick, and my breathing picks up. My body tightens at the images of her perfection underneath me. I can't help the moans leaving my mouth, I know she can probably hear me. But right now, I just can't care. I'd make her desperate and begging to cum, and being the fucker I am, I'd deny her until she can't take it anymore.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I chant. My voice deepens, groans leaving me. Every muscle in my body tightens just as cum shoots from my cock spraying the shower wall. "What a good girl," I growl. Blake would moan the moment my cum floods her womb. "Good fucking girl," I pant.

My chest heaves, my hand dropping from my still rock-hard cock. Cum leaks down the shower wall and all I can do is stare at it.

With images of Blake on her hand and knees, licking my cum off the shower wall and floor, I groan again, knowing I've been in here long enough, that she has to know exactly what I'm doing. Hanging my head, I make quick work spraying the wall off and getting cleaned. Stepping out, I dry off and pull my pants on. My gaze drifts to the door, the hair on my skin prickling when I hear a sharp knock. Pulling my shirt over my head, I slip my boots back on, reaching for the door. It's not until I hear the click of the main door unlocking that I realize I might have just made the biggest mistake on this job.