Through every hellish thing he had endured at Dr. Gardner’s hands, Blade had always had his team at his back. But Whitney had no one, and she’d been just a child. A little ten-year-old girl, thrust into a situation that wasn't meant for children even if they did have one of the highest IQs ever recorded.
Knowing how lonely her life must be, had likely always been even before she was sold, filled him with a desire he couldn’t explain to change that. Fix it. Give her a place to belong where she’d have people who cared about her, fought for her, protected her, and accepted her. A family, even if it wasn't born from DNA.
“B-Blade?”
Tearing himself out of his thoughts at the sound of her timidly saying his name, he turned to look at her even though she couldn’t see him. Protocol was that anyone they brought to their remote Gothic mansion came blindfolded. They’d done it with Cassandra when she first came to stay with them, with theentire Charleston Holloway family when they also came to hide out there as they hunted the people after them. It was for safety reasons, they didn't want anyone outside of their team and Eagle Oswald, founder and CEO of Prey Security and the man who saved them by giving them a job and a home, knowing where they were, but for some reason, it felt wrong to do it to Whitney. She was a part of this, and he no longer had doubts about her loyalty.
“Yeah, darlin’?”
“You … seem distracted,” she continued hesitantly, and he was filled with loathing for both her parents and Dr. Gardner. They’d kept her stuck in an almost childlike state emotionally. She knew she was an adult, but she also knew she had no freedom. She’d never learned the way the rest of them did how to exist in the real world.
When this was all over, and Dr. Gardner was dead, he wanted that for her. For her to find her way, find herself. Be free.
“Not distracted, darlin’,” he lied through his teeth. He was, but he didn't know how to explain to her that he felt something for her that he shouldn’t. Not only was the twelve-year age gap a stumbling block, especially considering he would bet his lucky knife that she was a virgin with zero experience when it came to the opposite sex, but he’d also hurt her.
Tortured her.
While she might have been grateful he’d saved her, and she’d definitely relaxed a little on their drive to the airport and then the flight, she was still way too wary of him for his liking. Probably always would be.
The bruises on her neck might heal, the scratches on her body would likely leave behind no scars, although the ones on her wrists would, but there would be permanent scars on her psyche. He was just another person to use and abuse her, to notsee the real Whitney Daley, to treat her as nothing more than a mind, a tool.
Gratefulness that he’d saved her life only earned him so many points, and not nearly enough to earn him any sort of permanent spot in her life, not even as a friend.
Did he want to be her friend?
Crazy though it was, yeah, he did.
Did he want to be more than a friend?
Totally inappropriate, but it was hard to look at Whitney without imagining what it would be like to kiss her, touch her, taste her, sink inside her, and feel her tight heat close around him, squeezing until he lost control and showed her how it felt to be treasured as they both came hard enough to steal their breaths.
“Blade?”
Once again, the timid voice tugged him from his thoughts, and he glanced over to see that Whitney had her hands twisted together in her lap. She was gripping them so tightly, he was concerned she was going to pop the joints right out of their sockets.
Reaching over, he placed his hand over hers. She jumped at the contact, and he hated the implication that she never felt safe, judged everything as a potential threat, and knew she didn't have a single ally. Gently pulling apart her hands, he then grabbed the blindfold and tugged it free. They were almost at the house, and anything she saw from here on out wasn't going to give her a location.
Blinking rapidly, Whitney cleared her vision before turning to him. It might be dark inside the car, outside it as well, with no streetlights on this remote country road, but he didn't need to see her properly to know she was worried.
Anxious.
Afraid.
“Is this … going to be okay?” she asked. Although he’d kept her talking on the flight, as much because he enjoyed hearing her lose herself in talking about things she was obviously passionate about, as to try to ease her nerves, she’d gotten tenser the closer they got to landing.
When he’d gotten her settled in one of the SUVs they kept at the small private airfield, she’d all but regressed to the silent woman he’d first strung up in that tree. Now he knew she retreated inside herself when she was scared, became almost paralyzed with fear, and couldn’t speak even if she wanted to. It had taken a lot of prodding to get her talking again in the car, but now he was pretty sure the only thing that was going to put her at ease was meeting his team and seeing for herself that none of them were going to hurt her.
Which they weren't.
At least he was ninety-nine percent sure of that.
“It’s going to be fine,” he assured her.
Doubt cloaked her, but he saw her nod, at least accepting his words on the outside even if he knew she was coming up with a million reasons inside her head to negate them.
“They know what I heard from the men hunting for you. You told the truth about your name, you told the truth about being sold, you told the truth about your age, you told the truth about creating the drug, but Dr. Gardner kept messing with it.”
“You … really believe me?” she asked, like she was sure that couldn’t be true.
