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For Her Protection(53)

By:Amber A Bardan


“Let’s go inside and talk about this.”

Her throat closed but she forced out the words. “No. You won’t be coming inside with me again. I’m sick of playing your damsel in distress. Whatever this is—it’s done.”

The words hung in the air, quivered along her heart, tore at it. But she held her ground, held fast to her last chance to choose the direction of her life. Because if she said stay—she’d be done. She’d lose herself in him, be his woman forever. She was inches away from sinking into a life that wasn’t hers to control.

The fingers on her arm tightened briefly before he pulled back. He spoke, his voice low and brittle. “You’re making a mistake. I’m not the guy you make me out to be—I’m not your caveman, Charlize.”

She licked her trembling lower lip and forced her mouth to move and make words. “You think so? What you’ve done—it just proves the only difference between you and any other chauvinist is that you’re in denial. I want someone who respects me or I’ll take no one at all.”

His features hardened but she turned to the door. Connor grasped her wrist. She glanced at him, her forehead drawn tight.

“You’re forgetting something. That creep is out there. That creep who attacked you. I’m not going to disappear until he’s caught.” The look on his face underlined his words. Beneath the stony mask lay a determination that wouldn’t be broken with a jackhammer.

“I haven’t forgotten. Gregory is on the run and I’ve no reason to think he’s still after me. But I’ve learned my lesson so if you insist on hanging around, do so professionally—be invisible. I don’t want to see you.”

She opened the door but his words stopped her.

“You’re so afraid of what things might mean that you can’t see what they are.”

She climbed out and slammed the car door then took the steps two at a time, despite wearing heels. She pushed her key into the deadlock, her back stiff, strong. Too bad on the inside she was nothing but a ragged wound—split open, bleeding and pulsing raw.

* * * * *

The knock on her door at 6:00 a.m. sent her heart lurching toward her throat. Not that she wasn’t already up and dressed. Since sleep had turned out to be a massive fail she’d been dressed for a while, not sure whether to drive herself to the gym, if Connor expected to follow…

Charlize straightened her shoulders, picked up her things and went to the door. She opened it just a crack, enough to send him the message he wasn’t welcome inside. The man standing in the doorway was equally as large as Connor but had a wider waist and much darker skin. The man smiled and lifted his hand, his white teeth a brilliant contrast against his skin. A week ago she’d have returned his smile, enjoyed the sight of a good-looking man in her doorway—but today she could only scowl.

He wasn’t Connor.

“Ms. Halifax? I’m Jason Washington. Mr. Crowe sent me to escort you this morning.”

She recognized him. He was part of the new security assigned to Halifax. Charlize pulled a tight smile into place and opened the door wider to shake his hand. “Thank you, Jason. I’d like to go to the gym before work. I’m all ready to go.”

He gripped her hand and gave it a firm shake.

“He said you might.”

Charlize clutched her bag closer and nodded. The sinking feeling that had swamped her all night, preventing her from sleeping, crept back into place. He just had to go and be thoughtful didn’t he? Just had to act like he knew what she wanted.

Jason opened the back door of his black sedan and she stepped inside then buckled the seatbelt across her lap. Jason glanced at her a few times in the mirror but didn’t attempt small talk. Not that she felt up for a chat.

They arrived at Alicia’s and Charlize put her things in a locker, jammed in her earphones and went straight to the treadmill. Didn’t glance at the other equipment, didn’t ask Jason to change and join in on the one beside her so he didn’t stick out like a biker in ballet class, standing there in his suit. She just pumped up the speed and found a song with enough tempo to force out everything except remembering to move, remembering to breathe.

Her thighs protested but she kept going, took a small measure of satisfaction from the punishment. The treadmill screen flashed and kicked into cool-down mode. She’d reached her goal yet somehow she felt as if she still had so much more energy to burn. She slowed her steps and wiped her face on a towel.

Charlize tugged out her earphones and glanced around. Voices buzzed through the gym as women filed into the studio. Oh…right… Connor’s class. The women probably loved him. He probably taught the class with his shirt off. Probably gave the other women his “special” attention. The image of Connor’s arms wrapped around her during a training session flashed through her mind. Her eyes burned again. There was only one woman those arms should hold.