Chapter 14
“Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.”- Rumi
“Get back here you...asshole!” I yelled at his back. He froze mid step. I knew my foul language had caught him off guard. “LOOK AT ME! Do you ever think about what you do? I’m a human being you know, I have feelings. You can't walk all over me and expect me to think it’s normal or okay!” I wanted to stay mad, to be strong, but my lip started quivering and tears pricked the back of my eyes as he slowly turned to face me. His caramel eyes glowered as they swept over my face.
“Mags. Don’t...don't cry, please. I’m sorry. I'm so sorry.” In four long strides he was at my side. His arms scooped me up under my arms and pulled me close to him as I wrapped myself around his body.
“Don't you ever treat me that way again and don't you ever try to leave like that again. I’m always here. I’m always here for you. I’m not the enemy, Cane,” I said, muffled into his neck. He’d shown up at the dorms. Aster and I had people over, men included. Cane, in a jealous rage, flew off the handle at the sight of them. He’d accused me of terrible thing and stormed out, despite my pleas to stop. He arched back slowly to see my face. His face looked tortured. So much pain. He leaned forward slowly, breathing heavily, and I knew. I knew what he needed to feel secure right now so I gave it to him. He picked me up and gently slipped his tongue between my lips and I melted into him, trembling in his arms. I tilted my head and he deepened the kiss. I wound my arms around his neck and threaded my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him closer to me. He set me down softly, but kept a strong arm wrapped around my waist, crushing me to him from chest to hips. Thank God. I wasn’t sure my legs would work just then. That smile. I felt it in my belly. His eyes were the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen but when they’re warm and his lips turned up into a smile making his whole face melt, it’s almost too much to take. Our lips met tenderly for a moment again, before I let myself go and gave everything to him. I took his kiss just as forcefully as he gave it. Nothing else in the world existed in that moment.
I wake up tangled in arms and legs, confused and teary-eyed from my dream. Bentley clears his throat and nuzzles the back of my neck. “Morning, princess.” His voice is heavy and gritty with sleep.
“Morning. Could you, maybe, let me up?” I ask timidly. He stiffens behind me but slowly releases his grip on me. I hop up, still naked as the day is young, and tag his button-up shirt off the floor. Pulling it over my head I dart to the bathroom. Shutting myself in I lock the door for privacy. My hair’s a rat’s nest and I have little tiny hickies trailing down my neck and collarbone. My lips are swollen and my skin looks dewy. All the signs of a well fucked gal: yup, check. Little flashbacks of our first round in the bedroom, and then the second, infiltrate my mind. I turn the water on and brush my teeth and hair before splashing water on my face. I’ve never worn a man’s button-up shirt before and somehow that makes being in his that much more intimate. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, wondering if I’ve just taken a step forward or messed up everything.
“Mags?” Bentley’s voice cuts through my wandering thoughts. A soft knock at the door follows.
“I’ll be right out,” I croak. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. I suck in a big breath, put my hand on the door handle and pop the lock. I saunter back into my room to find Bentley sitting on the edge of my bed in jeans but nothing else, holding my pistol and staring at the monitors that line the wall.
“Jesus...” he whispers. I don’t know if he’s mad or upset, curious or turned on. There’s a spark in his eyes that resembles last night’s looks but he’s clearly not happy about my fortress.
“What? This is what I look like in the morning!” I quip, trying to lighten the mood.
“You look good in nothing but my shirt,” he smirks and sets the pistol down next to him. Pushing off the bed, he prowls over to me and pulls me flush against him. “I’ve been waiting for last night to happen for a long time now.”
“I hope it lived up to expectation,” I reply smartly. He leans in and nips my bottom lip before giving me one of the best good morning kisses I’ve ever had the pleasure of receiving. I don’t know whether to get used to this or kick him out.
“Better than,” he offers. “But I have questions, Mags, and you have answers.” Ugh, I’ve dreaded this moment for the last few months. I don’t want to talk. I don't want to tell him anything but I’ve gone and let him get way too close to justify not explaining the behavior and the trailer. Nothing short of oh, hey, I’m insane, would be plausible. I don’t understand that last phrase…
“Coffee, cowboy. Never, ever try to have a conversation with me before coffee,” I offer, hoping to buy a little more time.
“Fine,” he grins. “I’ll start a pot, you talk.” He brushes past me into the kitchen like a man on a mission, leaving me no choice but to sigh loudly and follow. I plop down onto the couch and tuck my feet up under me while he wanders around the kitchen trying to find where I keep everything.
“I don’t know where to start,” I let out nervously. I stare out the small window to the trailer across from me. Ms. whatever-her-name-is is calling the cat that doesn't exist and suddenly I wonder if I’ll live long enough to see dementia.
“Start with the pimped-out trailer, princess,” he says matter-of-factly.
“I want to be safe. Or, I want to be as safe as I can be,” I amend. “The cameras, the locks, the windows and doors and walls, they were all upgrades to give me the illusion of safety.”
“Windows, doors and walls?” he asks curiously.
“Bulletproof. Reinforced. Impenetrable. Well I suppose someone could blow it up...” I trail off. He sits next to me on the couch while the coffee slow drips into the carafe, and scrubs his hand over his stubble before pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing.
“What are you worried about?” he asks finally.
“I’m worried about being hunted down and taken out.” The words sound ridiculous coming out of my mouth. True, but so insane sounding.
“Jesus, you make this painful. How ‘bout this: explain ‘the illusion of safety’,” he croaks, looking sincerely concerned for me and it eats at my soul a little.
“I’ve been found. It’s only a matter of time now. I was foolish to think that securing my home would have any impact on my safety in the end,” I ramble.
“God dammit, Cypress, why can you just tell me the truth?!” he booms, startling me. Did he just say Cypress? My vision blurs for a moment before I leap up and put ample distance between us. I watch his face fall.
“What did you just call me?” I hiss, ready to defend myself if necessary. After all, I’ve been training for this, preparing myself to stay alive as long as possible. He looks alarmed and his hands clench into fists at his sides.
“Cypress. I called you Cypress. You are my mission.” My vision zeroes in on his face. He’s not lying. I’ve befriended Ezra’s peon and taken it a step further by sleeping with him. I have been played in the worst way. I lurch forward, clutching my belly, and heave for air. All this time I’ve been sitting with the devil. He stands and takes a step towards me.
“NO!” I bark. “Tell me where to find him and I’ll go myself, but this…” I gesture between us, “…this is no more.” His features morph into confusion and he takes another step forward, shaking his head at me. I push two more steps back before I turn and run to the bedroom. I grab the gun from the bed, remove the safety and spin around just as Bentley collides with me. We land on the mattress, me pinned underneath him. The gun clatters to the floor. Instinct kicks in from all the training and I start grappling with him to escape.
“Dammit, Cypress, STOP!” he bellows.
“Stop calling me that!” He pins my arms above my head with his hands and drives a knee between mine on the bed, firmly holding me where I lie.
“I’m not with Ezra. I’m ATF.” I freeze, completely baffled.
“What?” I breathe.
“I am ATF and you are my only link to Ezra Ash. I’ve been assigned to you for the last two years.”
“Get off.” I squirm.
“Are you going to try to shoot me?” he chuckles.
“Two years?! I haven’t even been here for two years, Bentley, what the hell!” I squeal as soon as he moves off me.
“I know that. I was working as a T.A. at your college and was trying to figure out a way to make contact when all the shit went down.” Oh my goodness. This is so much bigger than I ever thought it was. I’m stunned into silence. I was his in into the Ash family? This can’t be.
“Please say something,” he urges.
“Bentley, I...” words fail me. I curl up into a little ball on the bed and squeeze my eyes shut willing all this to go away. “Last night...” I trail off. One. Two. Three. Four.
“No. No, no, don’t go there. Last night was not part of my assignment. I’m not supposed to get ‘involved’ with you really. Casual friendship, keep an eye out, yes, but Cypress, it’s become so much more for me,” he explains.
“Stop calling me that,” I whisper. “I’m not that person anymore.”
“I’m sorry. I know that,” he laments, grimacing.
“You know that? Really?” I bark out.
“I’ve watched you for two years. I’ve watched the girl you were change into the woman you are now. The only missing link is why you fled,” he says, rubbing my back gently. I shrug his hand off and roll to face him.
“What? You don’t know?” I snit.
“I know Cane Ash was killed and I know that Cane was your boyfriend.” My heart stops at his words. It dies right there. Just my boyfriend. What a terrible way to look at it.
“Cane Ash was my everything. Did you know that we started dating our senior year of high school? Did you know that for our two year anniversary he got us an apartment to live in so we didn't have to be apart during college anymore? Did you know that he wanted out? That he wanted to be something? Or how about that he was NOTHING like his uncle. Nothing like those men. He loved me and I killed him. Did you know all that? No. You surely didn't. You just know what you’re told or what you see, which is only the tip of the iceberg.” It’s a relief to actually say what I really feel for once, to explain what happened. He sits rigid, unmoving, as if he’s digesting my words.
“You killed him?” comes out on a breath. I nod my response.
“It wasn’t him I was aiming for. It was Ezra,” I clarify. “I’m not some heartless bitch, you know.”
“I never said you were. Listen, some of this I need to report back to my superior.” His tone is all business now.
“No,” I state.
“Cy-Mags, I have to. It’s my job.”
“Correction, I’m your job. There’s more,” I offer.
“Why’d you go after Ezra? By all my accounts you were just some goody two shoes average college student,” he says, irritation etched on his face.
“Well thanks for that.” I snort and stand up. I grab the gun from the floor and put the safety back on before setting it on my nightstand. I tug the hem of his shirt, trying to hide more of myself. I feel too exposed now that the truth is out.
“He’s found me. I knew he’d come. I’m a loose end and I have his money. It’s why I train, and have my trailer ‘pimped out,’ and why I keep a gun near me at all times.”
“Mags, listen, we don’t have enough to put him away yet. You were a lead because you could get us inside information. But I need to know why you’re a loose end and why you think he’s found you.” I hate the cold all-business nature his voice as taken on.
I stomp down the hall and fix myself the coffee that I’ve yet to drink before plopping on the couch and chugging my mug.
“I found a cypress branch on the hood of my car the other night. No one knows I’m Cypress, unless it was you who put it there.” I raise an eyebrow at him and wait. He shakes his head no at me.
“I set up multiple P.O. boxes when I moved here, all over, and had junk mail sent to each. I changed my name, it was…it was nothing Ezra would ever know to call me. I have burner phones and haven't had any contact with anyone besides Aster since the day I left,” I explain. “In other words, I’ve been smart. Ezra has money and resources that I don't, so I knew it would only be a matter of time. I want him to find me, Bentley, I’m ready for him now. I need to finish this.” I watch as irritation and concern battle for his attention. He leans back and pounds his fists into the cushion of the couch.
“You can’t kill him, Mags. You’ll go to prison,” he barks at me, clearly irritated.
“I have to make things right. It’s all his fault. I need this, Bentley, I need this to feel alive again,” I plead.
“You didn't feel alive last night?” he growls.
“Don’t do that. Don’t make the comparison. It’s not the same,” I snap.
“Mags! It’s a simple question. Answer it. I need to know,” he rumbles at me.
“It...it was…”
“ANSWER ME,” he demands.
“It was amazing, alright? I did feel alive. I did, and it was the first time in a long time that I felt anything at all and that’s terrifying to me!” I shriek, feeling completely unguarded. He scoots closer to me and sweeps my hair over my shoulder.
“I wasn't supposed to fall for you. You were supposed to be a job,” he says low into my ear. “Your life isn't the only one that’s been turned upside down, Mags.” I shiver as his breath washes over my neck. “I’d never forgive myself if I let something happen to you, not now. I had a life, a wife even, until a year ago.” I’m shocked at his admission to me. His fingers trail up and down my arm as he continues to speak quietly. “When you took off, I had to follow. The more I watched you, and yes, I watched you, the more I became determined to break through your walls. I fell in love with you long before you ever let me touch you, Magnolia. It tore my marriage apart, it’s put my job in jeopardy…I’d have to give up last night with you to change anything and I’m not capable of that. There is nothing the world could offer me to make me give up that moment.” His lips hit my shoulder and caress me.
“Bentley, stop,” I murmur. “Too much, too fast. Please. I need time to process all this.” He backs away from me, wounded.
“Okay. I’m still going to watch you, but okay, Magnolia. Do what you need to do. But know this: I can offer WITSEC. Keep you safe.”
“And start all over again alone? Lose you and everyone here and still know Ezra’s out there? No. I'm a big girl, Bentley. I've been taking care of myself long before you rode into town on your white horse,” I snort and stand. I don't know what's real or who I can trust. I feel like I'm drowning. If he's not who I thought he was how do I know if anyone’s safe? My world feels like it’s closing in too fast. I feel myself sway slightly and before I can steady myself Bentley’s arms steady me.
“Lay down, just rest, okay? I’ll leave, and check in later yeah?” he offers. I nod, feeling too weak to do anything else and let him guide me back to bed. He tucks me in and kisses me sweetly on the forehead before turning to leave.
“Your shirt…” I chirp to his back.
“Looks better on you anyways, Princess,” he calls over his shoulder and keeps right on going until I hear the door shut. I smile inwardly, and rest my eyes. I just need to figure this all out somehow.
“When are you coming home?” I asked, missing him already. It’s almost as if I need a dose of him every few hours just to feel alive. I’m irritated that Ezra called him away when we’d had plans and that Cane just gave in and went.
“Soon, sweetheart,” he cooed.
“When’s soon, Cane?” I asked tentatively.
“Just…soon, baby girl, I’ll be there soon.” He exhaled into the line. I said alright and hung up. His response pissed me off. When he’s vague like that it means he’s running an errand for Ezra and I desperately want him to realize that he’s better than that life and stop for good. I thought by now he’d be finished and I’m aggravated. I tossed the phone on the countertop and paced around the living room trying to blow off steam. The knock on the door jarred me from my thoughts. Maybe Cane had just been playing with me. I rushed to the door with a shit-eating grin on my face and swung it open. Ezra. My stomach sunk and my face fell.
“Aww, buck up, buttercup, I’m not that bad,” he said playfully. He stepped through the threshold, brushing past me and stopped in the living room. Something was off. Something more than normal. His eyes looked funny. His pupils were large, making his eyes look black in color, and he was fidgeting. He looked, crazed.
“What do you want, Ezra?” I asked politely.
“Where’s Cane?” he responded.
“Wouldn’t you know?” I asked, barely containing my irritation at his blatant disregard for our lives and for Cane’s wanting to make something of himself.
“He’s not back yet then…” he said while running his hand through his short hair repeatedly. I shook my head to confirm his statement and leaned against the countertop with my arms crossed over my chest.
“Well, looks like we’ll have to entertain each other until he returns then, yeah?” His face twisted into something resembling a smile but more...sinister.
“I’ll have him call you when he gets in. You know he doesn’t like us here alone.” These had been Cane’s firm words for Ezra for this exact situation. I feel anything but firm and in control though. He leered at me like I was a piece of meat. I knew his bark was worse than his bite but he seemed out of it tonight. His face twisted and his smile was no longer present as he started towards me.
“You think you run the roost, eh?”
“I don't know what you’re talking about.”
“I can have you if I want you, Cypress,” he spit out.
“Ezra, leave.” I pointed to the door and prayed my hand not to shake. He laughed at my request and closed the remaining distance between us. Pushing my extended arm down he ran his hands from my shoulders down to my fingertips and kept a hold of my hands.
“My turn,” he spit and my heart froze in my chest. With a tug I’m chest to chest with him and he had my hand pinned at my rear. He leaned his head down to me and started to lick from my collarbone up to my ear. “Ezra...” I begged. “Please, please stop. Don't.” He paused momentarily and I sucked in a deep shuddering breath. I choked on my tears. “Please, stop…”
“No. I don't think I will,” he whispered in my ear, and that was when I knew I was screwed. I stomped on his instep with my heel and twisted out of his grip. He stumbled marginally but I gained no real distance. He licked his lips and lunged for me. A scream ripped from my lungs as he tackled me to the ground. All the breath was knocked out of me from the weight of him landing on top of me. He flipped me to my back. I clawed at his arms and torso but he didn't seem to feel pain. Tears streamed down my face. This cannot be happening. I will not let this happen. I will not. A hand reared back before connecting with my cheekbone. The sick sound of the slap made me scream out again. I tasted blood in my mouth and swallowed thickly to keep the bile in my throat from rising up. He placed his palms on my breasts and squeezed cruelly before he leaned down to my face. I mustered all my courage and spit in his mouth just before it touched me. I was kicking my legs and twisting my hips furiously to break free but he was so large I couldn’t shake him loose. He sat up and wiped his mouth. “Wrong move, sugar,” he ground out. His black eyes shone with hate or maybe it was jealousy. Either way I needed to think fast. But I wasn’t fast enough. His fist connected with my temple, sending white hot pain radiating through my body, and everything faded to black.
I was on my stomach and being jostled strangely. I blinked a few times to get my bearings. A smack to my ass cracked through the air over his grunting. Ezra. He finished roughly and smacked my rear again. “Too bad I had to take you unconscious, sugar. Bet you’re a wild ride.” He breathed into my ear. There was pain in my head and rib cage. His words sent me over the edge and I lost my stomach all over the mattress. With a disgusted grunt he removed himself from me and walked to the bathroom. I heard the water running and I knew I should move. I should do something. Anything, but I was paralyzed. I’m dirty. I felt vulgar and tainted. A feeling rose in my chest as I listened to him whistle while he cleaned up in my bathroom, in my house. It was a feeling I had never felt before, a combination of rage, hate, and evil. I slithered to the edge of the bed and fished around the nightstand drawer for the handgun that resided there. I had only shot it twice, for practice. It was heavier than I remembered and very cold. “Maybe I’m just weaker,” I’d thought. I swung my legs over the bed and pushed up. The room rotated left, then right, and I sat back down, breathing rapidly. The sink turned off and I heard him walk out of the bathroom. “Till next time!” he shouted as he passed the open bedroom door. Something in me snapped. I shoved off the bed, gun in hand and followed him to the living room.
“Ezra,” I called, “wait.” He turned around and although I was the one with the gun he didn’t look the least bit affected by the situation. The corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk. My rage amplified at his nonchalance. I lifted the gun with shaking hands and took aim. I stared wildly at the man in front of me, unable to focus on anything else. My heart hammered in my chest. This was a monster, the kind that haunts children’s nightmares. The monster that ruined me, that hurt me. The monster that violated me in ways I never dreamed of. I heard the sound of the gun’s safety releasing, the exhale of breath. My hands trembled uncontrollably and then, the deafening sound of a bullet ripped through the air. The gun bucked in my hand, hard. It startled me from my trance. I closed my eyes and flinched before opening them and letting everything come into focus slowly. Cane crumpled to the ground, his hand clutching at his chest. Everything moved in slow motion as red started to seep through his shirt and onto his hand. Where did he come from? Why was he hurt? Why was Ezra standing, mouth agape, staring at me?
A gut-wrenching howl ripped from me as I watched the color start to drain from Cane’s handsome face, his haunted eyes never leaving mine. Adrenaline had slaughtered my body and I didn't know what to do. What had I done? I couldn’t breathe, it felt like my chest was being squeezed with a vice grip. Ezra crouched down, wide-eyed, next to Cane. He murmured something in his ear but all I took in were Cane’s eyes staring into mine, full of hurt and confusion. The gun dropped from my hand onto the hardwood floor. It made a loud clatter as it hit. Cane’s eyes, those beautiful amber-colored eyes, fluttered closed. “NO!” I shrieked. My heart stopped beating and my breath left me altogether. This couldn’t be. I stood motionless, listening, waiting. His beautiful caramel skin looked ashen. He was gone. His eyes were still closed. My beautiful love was gone. How did this happen? My hands were clenched into fists at my sides and my fingernails were digging into my palms painfully. My entire body was shaking so much I don’t know how I was still standing. Grief flooded my chest as the coppery smell of blood and gun smoke filled my nostrils. Panic kept me rooted in my spot. This wasn’t real. What had I done to him?
I wake up struggling for air and clutching my throat, and then a loud bang draws my attention to the monitors. Bentley is outside trying to ram down the door. I stumble out of bed shouting that I’m fine and open the door just as he’s gearing up to try and shoulder it open. He flies through the doorway and luckily I side step just enough that he doesn't hit me, but he does plow into the countertop. I can’t help but laugh - I know it hurt - but as he shakes it off I can see blood seeping through his shirt at his shoulder.
“Shit, you’re really hurt,” I squawk and open the cabinet over the sink for my Band-Aid stash.
“And you aren't,” he grumbles.
“Why would you think that I was?” I ask opening a Band-Aid.
“You were screaming bloody murder, Mags, like, blood-curdling screams.” He shudders, unbuttoning his shirt enough to reveal his shoulder and I wipe away the blood with a clean rag before applying the Band-Aid.
“It was a dream. I’m fine,” I explain. He covers my hand at the Band-Aid with his large rough palm and gently squeezes.
“Did you have time to think? Cause I’d really like to get to the part where we talk about the fact that we had really amazing sex.” He grins up at me, looking so handsome.
“I didn’t. I took a nap. I’ll call you, okay?” He releases my hand as his face falls. “I work tonight, too. So, I’ll see you later?” He nods, stands and pulls me into a tight bear hug.
“Please, Mags, try to understand,” he whispers into my hair before letting me go. I want to tell him that I do understand. How could I not? I’ve lied to everyone I know here so how can I possibly hold that against him? I don’t say anything though. Our relationship started in silence and it seems apropos to feel that silence once again. Look what happened when we started talking. Shit hit the proverbial fan and now we’re in some strange place that I’m not sure how to recover from.
Bentley leaves and for the next three hours I’m alone with my thoughts while I shower and get ready for my shift. I’m not due to leave for another hour so I indulge in two fingers of bourbon before work. I open the door and plop down in the Adirondack chair to enjoy the fresh air while I drink.
I set my glass down on the arm when a box resting on the arm of the empty chair next to me catches my eye. It’s a jeweler’s ring box, small, velvet and square. My hands tremble mildly as I lift the lid and a stunning solitaire engagement ring rests inside. Bentley has lost his marbles if he thinks this is okay.
A small corner of paper peeks from the lining of the lid. I pull it out. Brown’s Jewelers. I know that name. It’s familiar to me but I can’t place it. The ring was expensive and below the astronomical price is the date. Thirteen months and four days ago. Three days before I shot him. The address on it local to Cane and my old apartment. Impossible. Could this be true? Was he going to propose? My heart seizes as I pull the ring from the box and inspect it further. It’s absolutely one that I would have picked for myself. The evening light catches the inside of the band.
Baby girl, If there's anyone I could love, it's you.
There are no words for the pain that pierces my heart as I make out the inscription. I’m stunned and mad as hell. This kind of warfare is beyond cruel and I wasn’t prepared for Ezra to be any crueler than I had experienced firsthand. My world is unravelling as I stare at the box with the beautiful ring in it. I snap the lid closed on the box and hurl it across the yard while letting out a shrill scream. My world is imploding and I can’t see an exit strategy. In a fit of grief and rage I swipe the glass from the arm of the chair with the back of my hand, sending it shattering to the ground. I stand up and kick the chair over. I can’t take the mind games. “If you want me just take me!” I scream before storming into the trailer.
I tear every glass one by one from the cupboard and smash them against the opposite wall. When the glasses are gone I move on to the plates. I can’t stop the barrage of tears that rolls down my cheeks. Why did that day even happen? Why, after four years, did Ezra come after me that night? Why didn’t Cane yell and scream when he came in the door and saw me with his gun? I throw a plate towards the door, failing to see Bentley standing there. He ducks and the plate shatters into a million pieces just behind him. I don’t stop. I can't. I pick up another one, poised to hurl it, when Bentley rushes me, tackling me to the floor. We land with a pair of grunts and a thud.
“Get off!” I wail at him. “I’m done! DONE! I thought I could survive anything after what he did to me but this...this is beyond cruel!” Tears stream from my eyes without signs of stopping. Bentley squeezes me tightly, holding me firmly to him but it doesn’t seem to ease the tornado of emotions ripping me apart.
“What happened?” he asks through my sobbing.
“Engagement ring,” I mumble “There was an engagement ring with the receipt on the chair waiting for me. From before I left. He had it before I...”
“Are your video feeds live and recorded?” he interrupts me while brushing a strand of hair from my face. Something sparks in me at his question.
“Recorded.” I elbow him off and jump up, hauling ass to the bedroom. It takes me a moment fiddling with the control on the panel below the monitors before I remember how to rewind but when I do I feel an inkling of hope.
“Stop. There!” Bentley barks. I do as I’m told and play back the feed. The lighting isn’t the best, since it’s dusk out, and the culprit is in jeans and black hoodie with the hood pulled over his head.
“Dammit!” I cry out in frustration.
“Look at the hands, Mags. Ezra has tattoos across his hands.” I dart my eyes to the monitor and pause the video. No tattoos.
“He sent someone for me. Coward couldn't even do his own dirty work,” I grind out, irritation flaring again. I feel like I’m losing control of myself.
“Get up,” Bentley commands.
“I have to go to work.”
“I called Brock when I heard the commotion, you’re sick,” he tells me.
“Bentley you can’t do that!” I crow.
“I did. Pack a bag, we’re staying at my place tonight,” he affirms, surveying the area.
“No, it’s safer here,” I complain.
“If they decide to cause a scene and shoot the place up, sure. Otherwise, no,” he snaps.
“You’re being ridiculous. I know they’re messing with me. I’ll be fine here,” I argue.
“Pack a goddamned bag, Princess,” he repeats, losing patience with me. We stare each other down for too long in silence, neither one willing to budge. I stretch my head, rolling it side to side, feeling very drained from the emotional afternoon. Bentley heaves a sigh and approaches me.
“I’m sorry for this,” he says, and tosses me over his shoulder without warning.
“Put me down!” I shriek as he treks through the trailer to the door.
“Nope.” He exits my place with ease despite me kicking, cursing and clawing at him. Two minutes later we’re through the threshold of his place and he sets me on the couch roughly.
“I don’t care if you’re a royal bitch for the next twenty-four hours, Mags, you’re staying here until I can figure out how to keep you safe.” He strides away down the short hall and the moment he’s out of view I dart to the door. I twist the knob and yank. Nothing. Glancing at the deadbolt I notice his lock is one of those that needs a key to unlock it from the inside as well as the outside. I growl with frustration.
“Looking for this?” he replies smartly. I turn to him holding a key out. Defeated. That’s the only thing I feel. I stomp past him and plant my rear on the couch, refusing to look at him.