“You had your chance to gather your stuff and leave willingly. Staying here any longer makes us both a target. If you make a sound as we leave, I will gag you. I’d die for you, but not today.”
Why the fuck do I keep admitting this shit?
Why do I keep oversharing my feelings?
Why am I even having these fucking feelings?
They’re massively inconvenient. They’ll be my motherfucking undoing.
“Put me down. I will make a scene.”
“No, you will not. If there are more mercenaries waiting for you, you’ll make yourself an easy target. I’m not dying today because you believe you’re getting back at me.”
“Revenge has nothing to do with it. I told you, I don’t trust you.”
“And I don’t trust you either, but I don’t want you hurt.”
We keep going round in circles, and my frayed patience can’t take much more of this. I decide the strong, silent type is my fresh approach. I march out of her place, grabbing the keys and my lock picking kit as I pass through the door. I stop to lockup, and Flora huffs. I offer no comment and keep walking. I can carry all my cousins,tíos, and father up and down at least five flights of stairs. I know from practice and necessity, so Flora is like a feather despite her divinely curvy figure. A true hourglass, like a classic pinup model. But I won’t risk her fighting me and us both tumbling down the six flights of stairs.
We have to wait for the elevator to arrive. I remain quiet, and so does she. But she wriggles and tries to kick her feet. My arms wrap around her legs to keep her immobilized. When the doors open, she tries to grab one side to keep me from entering. I reach back and grasp both wrists, fearful the doors will close on them or that she’ll hurt them when my walking forward pulls them from the metal.
I press the button for the ground floor and put her on her feet. I position myself in front of her as I draw my gun. Unlike her, I have the safety off before the doors reopen. She doesn’t give up her attempt to thwart me, but when she moves from side to side, her smaller frame can’t get around my larger one. She gives in—for now, because I know she hasn’t given up—and waits. She knows I’m shielding her even if she doesn’t want my help—doesn’t see it as help.
She’s back over my shoulder as we leave the elevator. My driver’s watching for me, so he pulls forward as soon as he spots us stepping out of the building. As a bodyguard, I would normally sit up front with the driver. But I’m worried Flora might try to bolt from the back seat if she’s left alone.
You’re also scared someone might get to her if she’s out of your reach.
There’s that. I want to be close if any threat gets near her. I don’t want her out of my sight or my reach.
Normally, my driver would get out and open the door, but he watches me shake my head. I want him ready to go the second I close the back passenger door. I open it and put Flora on her feetagain. I crowd her against the car, catching her between the open door and the car frame.
“Pablo, please, no. Don’t do this.”
Genuine fear laces her words, and I see it in her eyes. They stare into mine for a second before her gaze sweeps the surrounding area.
“Chiquita, if there were another way, I would take it. You aren’t safe anywhere in Bogotá. Go willingly. I don’t enjoy forcing you.”
The hand not holding my gun rests on her waist. It travels up her ribs, then down her back until it reaches her ass. I give it a squeeze then a light tap. A reminder of what I’ll do if she doesn’t obey but not hard enough to cause any pain. Her gaze locks with mine, and something shifts within her.
“You’re really going to protect me, aren’t you?”
“Whether you want me to or not.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re mine,chiquita. Now get in the car, please.”
She stares at me for another moment before ducking in and sliding across the seat. I follow her and close the door. Once it’s shut, I flip the safety back onto the gun. I place it on the seat between Flora and me. She could try to grab it, but she reaches for her seatbelt instead. After having her in my arms, having her on the other side of the seat with a belt between us feels wrong. It’s the safest thing for her, but I don’t like it.
My driver must have put up the privacy glass when he realized I wouldn’t be alone back here. It’s usually up by default. I twist and pluck her from her seat, bringing her to sit on my lap. She fights me, surprised and unsure of what I’m doing. I wrap my arms around her, the weight of them heavy, but I’m gentle as I guide her to lean against me. When my hand strokes her hip and over her ass, and I do nothing else, she sags against me. Her head rests against my chest, and I kiss her forehead.
“Pablo, all of this is terrifying. You’re scaring me. Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere safe,chica. I know how frightening this must be for you. I’m terrified one of Humberto’s hired guns will get you. I’m terrified I won’t get you out of town in time.”
I’m terrified you hate me for what I’m doing.
“Will you tell me where you’re taking me? Who am I going to tell? I left my cell phone in my apartment. I don’t have my ID or anything.”
