Paranormal Dating Agency: Something Different (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 5

  "You have got to be kidding me. This isn't protection. You are not my savior, but now my kidnapper," she said, spitting the words at him as tears stung her eyes.

  "See it as you will, but I will keep you safe, be your savior as everyone keeps saying, though I think the word ridiculous. I'm a damn bodyguard, saving is in the job description. It doesn't make me a savior. But, that is an argument for another time. I will protect you at whatever cost. I'm employed by Ian, not you. I'm sorry. I will be kind. I promise you. These cuffs will keep you safe. You are attached to me for your own protection, plus they do keep up our ruse as a couple once we check into a hotel."

  "A hotel?"

  "Yes. A hotel. What did you think, I would just let you out of here and let you go home? They have your place staked out. They are waiting for you to be stupid enough to go there. We have to run away. For a while, anyway. Ian has to get this matter handled, or it won't be safe for you to return home. So, you are going to be stuck with me for some time. Get used to it. Don't make it harder than it has to be. I'm not the bad guy here. I'm the good guy. It would be wise for you to try to remember that from time to time."

  "You have got to be kidding me? I have a studio to run!"

  "You really think you do after word of this attack gets out? Can we try to gather some sense of clarity here."

  "So, you have ruined my life as well as my livelihood? All this for dating Ian, when it was just a ploy by Gerri anyway? What the fuck?"

  "Ploy?" he asked before shaking his head.

  "Never mind. Listen. Please, Samantha," Jacob continued, his voice harsh, abrupt, as his hand came around to her mouth again. "While the coast is clear, you need to calm down and keep it together. I'm going to keep you safe, but the longer you fight me, act like a petulant child, the longer you will remain a prisoner of sorts, if that is how you chose to see it, for your own damn protection. As I see it, you are more my ward, my queen, if that helps, one I will protect with everything in me, until my dying breath, by whatever means I deem necessary. It would greatly benefit us both if you would to come to see it my way. Then you can have your freedom back, or at least your arm. You want to live? Do as I say. Be quiet. Play along. Or, I can drug you, which I see as far worse than just cuffing you to me, acting as if you are my kinky date or something. So don't fuck with me. I'm warning you."

  He'd scolded her into a stunned silence. She'd never heard his voice take on such a tone, so low, so angry, so on the edge of control. Without her magic, still his dark emotions came off him in waves, practically suffocating her along with the dirty air.

  She felt too tired to argue anyway. The wall in front of them opened suddenly, distracting her. She looked around her studio, instantly noticing the yoga mats and blocks, bolsters and blankets, everything that had been set out for her students to use had been thrown around, stepped on, but no bodies remained. They'd stayed in the wall as each one had woken up, she guessed, and hopefully been checked out by paramedics from what she could gather through the wall. Cops or detectives, or whatever had asked them questions, too, before they had all left one way or another. She had heard a few tearful reunions as she sat there, helpless to do anything for any of them.

  Jacob had quietly whispered soothing words in her ear through all of it, trying to reason with her, trying to ease her emotions that had produced tears she kept to a silent whimpering. He'd tried whatever he could, she figured, speaking usually in response to a movement of her body, whether a reflex to emotion or from a cramping limb.

  He had been quite the help through the hours of it all, if she'd allow herself to admit it.

  He'd saved her a million times from pushing through the door, trying to help, reminding her over and over again that to do so she would only get them both killed along with everyone else left out there. He had been her savior, in more ways than one, for the last several hours, though it seemed like days. For a moment, and a moment only, she forgave him for the harsh measures in doing so, and for the cuff on her wrist.

  All in my own best interest, my ass, she countered. The wave of gratefulness gone as quickly as it had come.

  Another of Ian's guards, Chris, helped her up as Jacob followed. Feeling a tug on her wrist, her gaze flashed to where, just as he'd described it, a black leather band clung to her arm, a metal lock on one spot. A dangle of chain connected her to a matching leather band on his wrist. The chain between them fell long enough for him to continue to hold her hand but not much more. They could walk side by side as if he were her Dom taking her for a night of pleasure in a hotel. What the fucking hell?

  She couldn't imagine how anyone would explain away their filth within that scenario, though. They were both covered head to toe in dirt smudges and dust. Glancing behind them, she could now see where he had cut the wall, along lines in the wood, all the way to the ceiling, so when shut, no one could tell an opening ever exited there. She'd had a lock put on the door to the furnace room when she remodeled the place a bit, figuring it just best for the safely of her clients to not have easy access to the room.

  She'd no idea why anyone but a repair man would want in there, anyway, but figuring safety first she'd gone with the logic, not intended on the simple act ending up being something to help save her life. She assumed whomever had come after her must have decided the lock on the door meant she wouldn't be in there. Hell, the furnace barely fit in there. Even if they had, they probably still wouldn't have seen her and Jacob, as they would have faded into the darkness and filth behind the old, clunky metal box.

  Regardless of all of that nonsense now, as she stood here, alive at this moment, she wanted a shower in the worst way. While her skin crawled, and beyond that, itched, dusting herself off or even rubbing over her arms where she could see the worst of it, would be a pointless venture, probably only making matters worse. She flashed slight grin while looking up at Jacob, noticing a dark smudge under his eye where he must have attempted to rub away sweat. As he scanned their surroundings, moved them along inch-by-inch, he hadn't noticed her at all. She could only imagine that to him she was nothing more than a body to move, a heartbeat and mark to protect.

  Under the cover of night, a dreary one with a chill in the air that promised rain at that, Jacob had led her, cuffed to him so she had no choice but to keep up, to keep moving. Off the beaten path, they walked at a brisk pace. His body served as a shield from the wind picking up at a steady clip, howling through the trees, at times even shrieking like that sound often used in horror movies. She imagined someone sitting on a couch, yelling at her to not go that way, to turn back.

  Though to what, she questioned the imaginary person before coming to grips with her delirium. At least the insanity had stayed in her head, though she couldn't imagine trying to talk to Jacob now would do her much good. He marched on, his head moving back and forth, his sharp gaze observing everything around them, sometimes giving her a momentary glance as well. She stumbled a few times, over a rock or branch having blown upon their path. He'd grab for her then, blindly, making sure she stayed upright before moving them on.

  Shadows in the trees, changed by the close to full moon moving in and out of the deepening clouds, gave rise to new imaginings of horror, from a knife wielding human to a demonic being, each worse than the last as she swore off scary movies for good.

  After what seemed like an hour walk, though she knew it could only be about ten minutes, her stiff legs still not yet relenting to her movements, they approached an old truck waiting in a now abandoned parking lot. Dented and rusted, the back filled with tools and, well, perhaps trash, she couldn't tell. At this time of night out in the woods the darkness obscured the reality of many things. At least she didn't fear the getting dirty thing at the moment. Her clothes, at this point, were just ruined anyway. If she ever made it home, she wouldn't even attempt to wash them. They'd be forever branded as bad luck, and she wasn't even the superstitious type.

  She hadn't realized, however, that her current fate would see her a passenger in
the bed of the truck rather than the cab. A man she didn't recognize sat in the cab. Two of Ian's guards, Ron and David, helped her and Jacob into the bed of the truck, shifting boxes, bags, and toolboxes around, giving them room to move until they sat against the outer wall of the cab where he pulled her to him again. This time her side pressed against his chest. She laid her head against the hard warmth, too, when the men covered them up with a few dirty, heavy blankets like the ones used to cover furniture when moving it. At her first sign of protest, he covered her mouth again with his one free hand, urgently trying to make her understand the need to stay silent. Again, whispering warnings in her ear, his deep voice, the rush of breath, the heat enveloping her in his embrace all combined to send goose bumps flashing over her skin. She explained them away with practical reasons rather than the fact she'd been literally attached to the man for hours on end, feeling his body against hers. While yes, in danger, having been trapped for hours on end, many times her mind had wandered to the sensations of being pressed against him. It may have been her errant thoughts, but at a few points, she swore the lump at her ass had hardened. He'd adjusted, though he'd had little room to do so, actually only making it worse. Her body, not yet dead, had responded in kind, tightening up in some areas, dampening in others. While maybe not the right time for such thoughts or concerns, she didn't berate herself figuring she'd rather die horny than scared shitless. There were pauses in the fear, few and far between, the trembling, the panting, the stiff muscles, the desire and need to run, when she could give into wild thoughts, run free with wayward emotions, allowing her to catch her breath. Delirium, distraction, she didn't give a damn given the moment's reprieve from the horror show that had become her life.

  The truck bumped along, making its way to a highway she guessed by the change in sound and speed. At that point, rather than lose her mind over being still filthy and now covered with the heavy, musty blanket, once again in the dark, her body pressed tightly against this man, she let her weariness take her, nodding off or passing out several times, in the back, despite it all.

  Chapter Six

  Dopey. That had to be the word for what she felt as she stumbled into a hotel room behind Jacob, still attached to him by the restraints around her wrists. He continued to play the part while she walked with her head down, fearing someone, anyone else might walk into the empty parking lot and see them. With their hands clasped together like lovers, the handcuffs gave the appearance they were a playful couple or Dom and sub who had just finished cleaning out a filthy basement or something.

  As the door closed behind them, locking them in the dingy room that probably rented out by the hour as well, she couldn't decide if she wanted to be grateful or terrified. To make strides toward some remnant of sanity, breaking it down for herself into the simplest terms, she'd essentially been kidnapped by her savior. She no longer had any doubt of the full double meaning of that name for him, though she wasn't ready to deal with the implications of either.

  She had to believe Gerri had no idea in calling him her savior that this would all happen. In fact, from the message from Ian, she believed he was in on it from the start, dating her the whole of the two weeks because Jacob himself wouldn't make a move. But, still, surely Gerri had meant Jacob to be her savior in love, not her actual savior, as in life or death shit.

  If Gerri knew now, as she had to figure Ian would have filled her in, then her poor mom knew, too, and had to be losing her mind with worry. Serves her right, Sam thought for a moment, her anger, her frustration, her fears getting the best of her emotions which swung on a pendulum, singing back and forth in her churning stomach.

  To calm her breathing, having turned frantic again, despite her lungs being too tired to do that again, she concentrated on the immediate need. A shower. Fresh, warm running water to clean as well as soothe her sore muscles.

  "I'm filthy, Jacob. I really want a shower. Are we going to do that cuffed together, too?" she asked, the long sigh obvious in her voice if the shrug of her shoulders hadn't already shown her sentiment as to this idea away.

  "No," he barked at her before letting out a sigh and starting again. "Forgive me. It's not you I am upset with. I am trying my best here, Samantha. I am. Honestly. I don't want to keep you cuffed to me. But, I ask again, if I take it off, will you stay with me, run with me, as I and Ian feel necessary to keep you safe, or will you run away from me, determined you can save yourself?"

  "I'm not sure it is as bad as you both think it is," she said. "Everyone ended up all right from the studio."

  "They came in easy, thinking they could just grab you and be done with it. They were not looking to hurt anyone, just kidnap. But, now they've failed. Now they are pissed. Trust me, I'm not being overcautious here. These types, they only go easy once. Next time they come in all guns ready. They don't take defeat well, which is what got us all into this situation in the first place. They lost out on a deal to Ian."

  "Really?" she said, suddenly exasperated and pissed. "This is all about some business deal? My whole life upset, my business destroyed, my future who the hell knows what, and I'm cuffed to a man for who the hell knows how long because I agreed to date Ian? This all comes down to the mighty dollar? Really?"

  She just wanted a shower, and she wanted to take it alone, and then she wanted to go home.

  "Yes, really," he yelled, making her jump, her eyes grow wide, her body wake up to the fact she was too exhausted to handle being afraid again.

  His wide, dark eyes, mixed with his tight jaw and gritted teeth did nothing to calm her fears. She looked down to make a study of the stained carpet in shades of orange and brown, and not good shades either.

  "This is far from over," he hissed. "We set up a decoy. When I took you into the wall at your studio, we released a woman and another guard, to leave out the back with Surge and Will. You met them, right?"

  "Yes," she muttered, more than aware of his mounting anger and pain, etching across his face, making each muscle in his body taut to the point of vibrating.

  His breath let out long and fast as he shook his head before continuing. His voice changed suddenly to a solemn tone that brought out a cold sweat along her neck, shooting a chill down her spine. She shivered and looked away again. Just as she began a diatribe in her head about the fake wood on the seventies style dresser that stood in front of her, his voice, softer, yet still deep and angry, began again.

  "The men who were after you took the bait. They followed, leaving only the few we heard through the walls behind to double check the studio."

  "Okay, so you did well then. You saved me, and everyone else there. You took those guys on a wild goose chase, I assume, so I should be in the clear, right?"

  "Wrong, Samantha. They are all dead. The hired woman and fake guard, Rita and Steve, along with Surge and Will, they are all dead. These men don't play around. They would have held you for ransom, and when they got what they wanted from Ian eventually killed you, too. And, now that they know they don't have you...have figured out Rita isn't their intended target, they will play dirtier, and they will play for keeps. You will stay here with me, by any means necessary, or you will die, too. You got that?" he semi-yelled, his eyes tearing up it seemed, confusing her a mere second before he lifted his arm where the restraints attached to hers and pushed the cuffs into her face.

  "Jacob. I'm sorry. I don't know what to say...I didn't know..." she sat down beside him where he'd practically fallen into a seated, hunched over position onto the bed behind them.

  She couldn't take a man crying, especially one like Jacob: so big and tough, and who always seemed to have it all together. Though, she feared him, now, so tightly wound, if anything undid him, like now, the loss of his friends, his co-workers, his pride mates, who the hell knew what he'd do. Surely not her, the girl who had been trying hard not to give into her lust for the man she'd only known two weeks and had had limited conversations with at that.

  "How could you know," he mumbled, the volume of his voice ba
rely above a whisper. "I kept it from you. I didn't want you to be terrified out of your mind, but if that is what it takes to show you why these are necessary," he said, again pushing their bound hands up to her face, though not with as violent a motion as he had moments before. "These, and more will be necessary until I can get you somewhere safe, somewhere so far off the grid, their radar, that they will never find you."

  "Never?" she asked, the squeak in her voice making her jump. "Never... As in, I can never go home?"

  "I'm not saying never, but you've been reported dead as a precaution anyway. They knew they had the wrong girl, killed her, so we had to make them think you were dead too so they wouldn't continue to come after you. I doubt Ian will set the record straight until this war is over. In the meantime, we have time to run."

  "Dead? My family...my friends...they think I'm dead?"

  "It is horrible, I know, but it will hopefully keep them safe as well. The men won't go looking for you where any of them live or work. Since killing any of them doesn't hurt Ian enough, they should leave them alone, not even think of it as they recoup given the loss of their main target. I'm sorry all of this is happening."

  "I'm sorry, too," she managed, "it is you who have lost family trying to save me. Mine only thinks they've lost me. God, my poor mother. But, she will have me back one day I hope. You on the other hand... Listen, I will behave. I will try to do as you ask."

  She took her other hand, placed it on his, which still clutched to hers, in a death grip.

  "I'm not letting you go. I appreciate the sentiment, and I believe you meant it sincerely, but, until I know for one hundred percent sure, you are staying cuffed to me."

  "Okay. I understand," she soothed. "At this point, being cuffed to a bodyguard might just help me feel safe, though I'm not sure that is possible anymore."