With a hard grip on the pen, Sophia dug letters into the top page. Big angry ones, the tip of the pen cutting into the paper below it.
I can’t stand you.
I hate the things you have done,she wrote next.
I hate that you took my mom from me. I hate that I live in fear because of you. I hate that my father has to worry about losing me too.
Sophia shook her head, mad that she was censoring herself, even in the simple exercise. She tipped her head back, forced out an angry breath, and told herself to let go of whatever stopped her from writing what she wanted to write. She tore off the top three pages, saw indents of her declarations etched into that page as well. And there, she made new ones.
I hate you.
I hate you for killing my mother.
I hate you for making my father cry.
For making him lonely. Hurt. Broken.
Because of you she’ll never see me get married. She’ll never hold a grandchild. She won’t grow old with my father. And I hate you for that!
With each declaration, the smothering impotence waned. Determination took its place. She wouldn’t cower if they came face-to-face. Stand there helplessly while he marched in with explosives ready to do his worst. She would fight. Do what it took to preserve her own life.
You have robbed me. But you WON’T take my life.
I’d rather kill you myself than let you take it.
It felt like enough energy had surged through her to power the White House for a year. With a shaky hand, she dropped the pen onto the tattered page, scribbles, rips, and messy declarations. She could feel the heat of Blayze’s gaze on her, but she didn’t mind sharing the intimate moment with him. He was safe, and she knew that.
She glanced up at him through her lashes and let out a jagged breath. “You were right,” she said, tension draining from her so fast she went weak. “That felt good.”
He grinned, unfastened his belt, and scooted close enough to toss his arms around her. “You did good,” he murmured into her hair.
A small piece of Sophia was vaguely aware that Roman was keying in on their interaction. Ready to report back to her father. She didn’t mind. She knew Papa well enough. He would’ve never suggested Blayze take her for an evening out if he didn’t already have his stamp of approval. Something he didn’t hand out freely.
They stayed that way for a long while, flashes of light coming few and far between as they stayed their course, whatever that was. Which reminded her of what Blayze had said: they’d drive around until she agreed on a place.
The last thing she wanted to do was put others in harm’s way; may as well consider her replacements. Michelle Marshall sat at the top of that list. She’d do an excellent job. Proudly. Boldly. And for the sake of her mother and the threat over Sophia’s head, the woman would deliver with all the gusto she could muster.
With the decision made, Sophia pulled away from the warmth of Blayze’s strong arms and broad chest. “I’ll allow for a replacement,” she said. “Michelle Marshall. I’ll notify my father about it now. Then…” she added, searching his handsome face. “Then, we can go to your cabin.”
Chapter 11
It wouldn’t be much longer now, Blayze told himself as he looked out the window of the Land Rover. The night was black at either side of the car. Streetlights in this neck of the woods were scarce. The view out the front was different. In the headlights glow, a combination of massive trunks, gnarled branches, and colorful leaves said they were very close. Miles back, they passed Los Padres National Forest. A few miles more and he’d have Roman turn off a barely detectable break in the trees. From there, they’d wind through a sequence of even less visible turnoffs, each nearly lost in the thick of the overgrown, untamed redwoods.
Along the way, Sophia had scooted over to the middle seat, buckled up there, and nuzzled into him. Moments later she’d linked her fingers through his, pulled his arm around her, and drifted off to sleep. Breaths slow and steady, she’d melted deeper and deeper with each passing mile.
He knew enough about relationships to call this what it was—sudden, rushed, and close to rootless. After all, it took time for the surrounding redwoods to establish the deep, reaching support system that would keep them erect in a windstorm. The truth was, it was foolish for him to get romantically involved; he was hired to protect her, not court her. Which meant he needed to slam on the brakes and quick.
Though Sophia was already snug against his chest, Blayze wanted to pull her in closer as a sharp pain tore into him. He clenched his eyes shut and gulped. Time to stop what he’d started. Who cared if their romantic connection felt natural and right on the surface? That didn’t mean it was. It would mess with his judgment, all those emotions clouding up his brain when it was time to think and act fast.
The pain went deeper, and this time hedidpull her in closer, just a bit, breathing in her alluring scent as he thought of yet another reason they should keep things business-like between them: The vulnerability factor—he’d be taking advantage of Sophia if he pursued her now.
As much as it hurt, Blayze couldn’t give Sophia any encouragement. If they made it past this…no,not if.Whenthey made it through this, if Sophia was interested in giving him the time of day, he’d be there. Yet, as she sighed, her warm breath coating his wrist, Blayze feared she wouldn’t be interested anymore.
He glanced up to see a familiar bend in the road. Thank heavens he’d snapped out of his stupor before they’d passed it. “You’ll want to slow down up here,” he said. “See that break in the trees to your right?”
Roman shook his head. “Nope.”
Blayze chuckled. “I know. But we’re almost there, so you better get ready.”
