It’s just that she looks so beautiful and the sight of her is so…welcome. Although I refused to think about not being able to get her out of this mess alive and well, on some level I must’ve been worried about it. Now, all I’m doing is bouncing back and forth between being thankful that she’s all right and vowing that I’ll never let anything happen to her.
Today was the first step in ensuring that. With Nash’s video, we’ve bought some time. Gavin is taking care of the lower level threats and sending a very effective, if dangerous, message. Next up is taking care of the big guns and making sure that no one ever has reason to come after Olivia again, unless they’re willing to risk severe consequences.
I’m still hoping the second ad I placed, the second ace up Dad’s sleeve, might give me something else to work with. If not, I’ll just have to make do with what I’ve got until I can come up with a plan. Now that Olivia’s safe, I ought to be able to concentrate a little more effectively.
Just thinking of her draws my eye back to the passenger seat where she’s resting peacefully beside me. I reach out to touch her hand, but pull my fingers back before they can graze her skin. I don’t want to wake her up.
But damn, I want to touch her!
It feels almost like a compulsion, to touch her and make sure she’s really with me and that she’s really safe. And that’s ridiculous, too.
Good God! I’m gonna wake up with ovaries if this shit doesn’t stop!
The thing is, I don’t know how to stop it. I’ve never wanted to feel this way about a female. And even now, I’m not sure I do. But I’m also not sure I have a choice. It’s almost like Olivia’s cast some sort of spell on me. And I don’t like feeling this way—this helpless, this invested, this…emotional. I don’t ever want to lose myself in a woman.
Ever.
With my teeth clenched in determination, I keep my eyes facing forward. On the road. Not on Olivia.
********
Olivia is sleeping soundly in my bed when Gavin returns almost two hours later. We go out to talk in the office where we won’t disturb her.
“How’s she doing?”
“She’s been sleeping. I’m sure she’s exhausted.”
“We all are, mate. You especially. You look like shit.”
“Thanks, Gav. I can always count on you to say things that help me in no way whatsoever.”
His grin is the same caliber as any other day—carefree. It’s his ability to cope with the things he’s done (and still does occasionally) that makes him so good at his job. He sees the world as black and white, good and bad, live or die. He’s a good guy. Really, he is. It’s just that he doesn’t tolerate criminals very well, even though that’s how every law enforcement agency in the entire world would label him. I mean, I’m not going to sugar coat it. Gavin is a former mercenary, a hired gun. A killer. It’s just that he’s a killer with a conscience. And God help your soul if you happen to step on it the wrong way.
“I just call ‘em like I see ‘em,” he says, laying on thick his best impression of a southern accent.
“How’d it go? Any problems?”
He flops down in chair behind the desk, rests one ankle on his knee and laces his fingers behind his head. “No. Two to the head of each. The message ought to be pretty clear.”
I nod. I don’t really know what to say. What he did for me, for us, for Olivia was more than I could ever have asked him to do. And yet, he did it anyway. He was there when I needed him, without question, without reservation. Gavin’s probably one of the only people in the world I can fully trust. As of right now, we’ve been through too much together to be anything less than brothers. “Thanks, man. I can’t tell you… I just…”
“I know, mate. I know,” he says soberly. He clears his throat then changes the subject. “I called the mother.”
“What?”
“I had to. Her daughter went missing. In her car. I had to tell her Olivia was in danger in order to get her to tell me where she went and what she was driving.”
“Oh my God,” I say, dragging a hand over my face. “What did she say?”
“At first I don’t think she believed me. That lady’s a piece of work. I think she thinks all men are controlling and she tries to turn Olivia against anyone she brings home. Or at least that’s the impression I got.”
“Maybe it was just you. Ever think of that?”
“Are you kidding me? With this face? Mothers love me. And I mean really love me,” he says with a wicked grin. And I’m sure he’s right. By most anyone’s standards, Gavin is a good-looking guy. Add to that his charm and his accent, and the ladies go wild. But I could care less as long as it’s not Olivia going wild over him.