A Harmless Little Game (Harmless #1)

 

I find it hard not to smile. I bite my lips to stop. I’ve never, ever seen anyone take on Stacia. Not once in the four years I’ve lived here at the Island Meditation and Serenity Center. The fact that it’s Drew is even more surreal.

 

Why is Drew here? Drew? Why would my father hire him to protect me? Drew was off to join the Army as an officer. To fight in wars. To become a four-star General like his dad, with the family goal of hitting Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff one day.

 

Now he’s a hired gun for politicos like my dad?

 

This makes no sense.

 

But I know how to seize an opportunity. While living here for four years, drugged up for most of them, has made me soft, it hasn’t made me stupid.

 

I walk toward the door. Drew is the threshold between imprisonment and freedom. I may hate him. I may cry into my pillow every night wondering why he let them destroy me four years ago. I may still burn with the heat of a thousand suns for him.

 

But I’ll be damned if I won’t use him to get home.

 

As I walk past him, his arm holding the door open for me, I make the mistake of inhaling. The all-too-familiar scent of his aftershave, soap, and a distinctly male scent makes my mind turn into millions of pieces of memory. My body floods with the heat of passion and love. Tempered by four years of pain, it’s an emotion that comes in a giant tidal wave of the loving past and the broken now.

 

My stomach twists like a wet rag in the hands of an angry god.

 

My heart, though—oh, my poor heart. It beats double time, speeding fast as if it could make up for lost years and find Drew, track down his own twinned heart and give it a welcome kiss. As if we were still lovers graced with the easy give and take of people who just know.

 

Just...know that they’re meant to be together.

 

All that emotion flits through me in two seconds. In the time it takes to inhale, I’m transported to the paradox of fate. The old Lindsay, battered and bruised beyond recognition, turns out to be crouched deep inside me, still there, still watching.

 

And summoned by the scent of a man I never thought I’d see again.

 

“You can’t,” Stacia snaps, bringing me out of the split-second reverie. “You can’t just take Lindsay.” Her eyes narrow, then flit from me to Drew. “Wait a minute. ‘Andrew’?” Her eyes widen. “You’re Drew?” She gives me one of those searching looks I know so well. The kind she uses in therapy sessions where she accuses me of withholding my emotions.

 

Where she’s right.

 

I halt, my arm brushing against Drew’s elbow as he moves from the threshold into the hallway. He curls his body protectively, as if forming a shield between me and Stacia.

 

A bitter taste fills my mouth. I begin to sweat, the sheen chilling my skin. I’m so close to leaving. I look out the window and see the helicopter.

 

Drew says something into his mouthpiece, then herds me to take three steps. Somehow, though, he does not touch me.

 

Oh, how I wish he would.

 

No! Where did that thought come from?

 

“You can’t!” Stacia repeats, her voice going higher with shock and panic. She’s shocked because he’s disobeying her. The Drew I knew four years ago had no problem disobeying an order if he had a reason.

 

My father has clearly given him a reason.

 

“Watch me,” Drew tosses back over his shoulder as he walks behind me, setting a fast pace. My heels click-clack on the hallway tiles. I pick up my speed. I don’t need to be told twice to move fast. I have no idea how much power Stacia has to keep me here, but it dawns on me that maybe she has less than I thought.

 

My first real smile in four years spreads my face as a grin takes over. I see my reflection in the glass walls as we walk down the hallway toward the double doors that take us outside.

 

And then I realize Drew’s watching me.

 

Watching me smile.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4

 

 

 

 

 

Blood pounds through me as I slam the double-doors open, the blinding sunlight making me halt. I’ve been outside thousands of times here on the island, but never without supervision.

 

Technically, I’m supervised right now. But this feels different.

 

“Mr. Foster! Drew! You need to stop!” Stacia comes running behind us, her voice angry and loud. By the time she reaches us, the helicopter blades have begun to rotate with an aching slowness that makes my pulse quicken. It’s like watching a kitchen mixer slowly start. Anticipation makes me tingle, knowing that soon, that helicopter will contain me.

 

Drew reaches out and touches my shoulder. I flinch, but stop. He lets go. Why do I wish he wouldn’t let go? My skin is like a suit of cotton that covers millions of buzzing bees under the surface.