I step out into the hall, but before I shut the door, he calls out, “Nothing’s beyond my reach, Kellen, not even your pet gardener.”
I slam it and seethe.
That might’ve done more harm than good. Now he knows I care about her and caring is always a bad thing in this line of work. Caring means you have a weakness, and weakness can be exploited, only I’m not sure if Hugh is smart enough to find a way to do it without making me flip out and put a bullet in his guts.
I head outside into the heat again. It takes a few minutes of wandering, but eventually I find Tara on the far side of the house planting what look like wildflowers in a mostly empty bed. I approach and she looks up at me, frowning, sweat dripping down her arms. She stands, wiping her hands on her jean shorts, her pretty body covered by an old tank top and a bandana in her hair.
“What do you want, Kellen?”
“It’s funny how everyone greets me like that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t care. I’m busy.”
“I’m hearing that a lot today, too.” I sigh and tap a finger against my lips. “I’m almost insulted.”
“If I’m supposed to get what you’re saying—”
“I was talking to Hugh just now. I told him that if he bothers you again, I’ll kill him.”
She takes a step back, her eyes going wide. “You did what?”
“I told him—”
“I heard you, asshole.” She waves her spade in the air, spraying dirt around. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that I got you involved in all this and it might be my responsibility to make sure you walk away from it alive.”
“You just made it worse!”
“How the fuck do you think that?” I walk forward but she holds the spade out like it’s a knife.
“Don’t come closer.”
“Or what, you’ll stab me to death?”
“It’s sharp. Back off.”
I take a calming breath but it does jack shit. “Listen to me, Tara. Hugh is going to try to use you whether you like it or not. This way, at least he won’t actively try to hurt you, because if he does, I really will kill him.”
“Sounds like you just painted a target on my back. You practically begged him to keep on messing with me.”
“There’s no winning with you, is there?”
“You should’ve just left me completely alone, asshole. You dragged me into this. You made all this happen. It’s all—”
Before she can finish that thought, I lunge forward and grab the shovel. She yells in surprise and anger and tries to wrench it away, and in the process the spade slices against my arm. It’s sharp enough to leave a thin red line behind it, and she gasps in shock. I doubt she’s ever hurt someone in her life, let alone cut their skin, and the sight of my blood is too raw.
I rip the shovel from her hand and throw it aside, the blood dripping down my skin along my dark tattoos. I don’t feel the pain and I don’t care about the wound—it’s another scar in a mottled mass of ancient puckered skin that covers my body head to toes, another one won’t matter.
I advance on her. She covers her mouth and I grab her, ripping her hands down. “Fuck, Kellen, your arm,” she says and I shrug, wiping it on my shirt.
“It’s just blood,” I say, pulling her against me. She seems to realize that she’s in a compromising position and tries to struggle, but I grab her hair and pull it tight, holding her in place.
“Fuck,” she hisses. “Let me go.”
“Listen to me,” I say in her face, snarling. “You don’t get how this works yet so I’ll spell it out. You’re mine. All of you is mine. Hugh knows it now, and whether he likes it or not, you’re claimed.”
“I’m not something you can just claim. I’m a goddamn person.”