It was never fair and I always fought against it. I could see how it made Jessi curl into herself and try to make herself smaller just to fit. The whole thing broke my heart, and I became her shield while allowing her some room to breathe and find her own path.
Even though I know I shouldn’t, I start to move toward the mill again. There’s a big, flat area around the back and I have a feeling if there is something to see, it’ll be there. I’m on the other side of the building and have to make another loop and hope I can get a glimpse of something.
When a twig snaps, I freeze with wide, wild eyes. I don’t even think I breathe for a solid minute. Or it could be an hour for all I fucking know. Time has no meaning when you’re over your head and out of your depth.
Not hearing anything again, I start to move. Every step is taken slowly, probably too slowly.
Suddenly, someone grabs me from behind, one arm snaking around my waist while the other hand clamps down over my mouth just as I open it to scream.
“Helen,” a man hisses in my ear, “you are in so much fucking trouble.”
As a smokey, cedar scent wraps around me, my entire body goes limp. I know that smell. Fuck, I know that voice.
Rhodes’s chestis like granite as it pressed against my back. I can feel the tension in his body; he’s holding himself perfectly still. When I try to turn and look at him, his grip on me tightens. It should piss me off, the way he’s holding me and the threat I feel in the echo of his words, but I’m relieved.
So, fucking relieved.
Rhodes picks me up and hauls me out of the woods around the mill. I don’t fight him; I don’t even thrash in his hold. Why would I when it feels so much better to sink into the feeling of being in his arms?
Even though I know he’s pissed at me.
When I can catch a glimpse of his face, his jaw is set and his lips are pressed into a thin line that is all tempered rage. He doesn’t even look at me.
The way the limited moonlight coming through the canopy makes the lines of his face appear sharp. If I could take a picture of him right now, I would. Talk about worthy of a magazine.
Rhodes really shouldn’t be as hot as he is. It’s not just his looks either, it’s the way he presents himself and the confidence exuding from him. I feel safe in his arms and it’s a feeling I’m not entirely used to.
Sure, I don’t spend my life in a state of constant fear or anything, but this is different. This feels like someone having my back and lending me their strength.
A truck comes into view and before I can ask any questions, he’s pushed me into the back seat while sliding in behind me. The sound of him slamming the door is loud and makes me flinch.
Rhodes’s chest is heaving and if I wasn’t unsure about saying something, I would ask if he’s okay. But I have a feeling he’s not. Because he’s pissed.
Whenhe turns toward me slowly, the fire in his grey eyes has me swallowing hard. His words are slow and measured, “What the fuck are you doing out here, Helen?”
I’m not too proud to admit how much I hate him using my name right now. I miss him calling me sweetheart and would do just about anything to hear the endearment right now.
My face heats and I look away from him while gnawing on bottom lip. He reaches over and pulls my lip free with his thumb. The skin where he’s touching me tingles. I look back up at him but look away quickly because his anger is still right there.
It lives between us, writhing and huffing out billowing smoke in the form of tension.
“I’m sorry,” the words are whispered between us even though I know they’re not enough.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” his voice is hard and I want to shrink back against the door to avoid it.
I don’t like this. Not even a little bit. My stomach clenches and tears well up in my eyes. I blink them back quickly, refusing to get emotional right now.
It’s not the time or the place.
“Jessi and I went to a big market style yard sale over the weekend,” I admit, my words shaky.
The way Rhodes narrows his eyes at me says he has no idea why I’m bringing up my weekend plans. That’s fair, but I do have a point. Maybe. Kind of.
“I overheard some guys talking. They mentioned the dog fighting was happening at the Old Mill, and how the next location needed to be found soon. I wasn’t sure which Old Mill they were talking about, but I’ve been to this one before.”
“You’ve been to this one before?” His tone is glacial and I blink a few times and fight against the feeling rising in my chest.
I haven’t done anything wrong. Sure, I’ve done something stupid, but wrong? I straight my spine and square my shoulders while tugging my hair out of the messy bun it’s in before putting it right back up because it’s a nervous habit of mine and I’m more than a little anxious.
