“That’s a start.” He takes a step to the side, and I cross my arms, refusing to comply with his fickle whims. Sawyer just sighs again and turns his back to me, heading for the exit. “We’ll work on the rest later, starting with whynotto take the elevator alone when you’re trying to avoid getting caught by bad men.”
“Your orders were to befriend me, not giving me private security lessons.” I finally get out of the elevator and fall into step with him, side-eyeing a glare at the sharp cut of his smooth jaw.
“No, Madeline. My orders were to keep youalive.” He turns a hard set of dark blue eyes to me, waiting, then his brow furrows. “What, no smartass retort? No snarky comment? You feeling okay, Maddie?”
“No need for the sarcasm, Huckleberry,” I huff and shake my head, pushing the building door open and stepping into the street. “I’m aware of how deep of a shit pile I stepped into. I know I need help.”
I halt, panic bubbling in my gut at the thought of what will happen if Harlow finds out what I’m doing. My eyes start darting around, looking for the danger that I know will eventually show up. It’s been happening to me too much lately, these bouts of random panic, usually when I’m outside but sometimes inside the apartment as well.
It’s exhausting and unnerving, the feeling of being watched, living with the knowledge that you’re being hunted.
“Maddie?” Sawyer stands in front of me, blocking out everything except his broad chest and those deep blue eyes. As aggravated as I am by his presence, I can’t deny the calming effect of having his solid bulk shield me from any real or imagined danger.
“Thank you for doing this.” My fingernails scratch at my palms, the urge to twist my sleeves between my fingers difficult to ward off. “I know you didn’t have to take the job.”
“I did.” He shoves his hands into his jean pockets and turns towards the car again. “Have to, that is. It’s the right thing to do.”
“And you always do the right thing?” I raise a skeptical eyebrow.
“Where it counts.”
“Ouch. Way to make a girl feel redundant.” I try to joke, but that honestly hurts more than it should have.
“What?” His utterly baffled expression bristles against my skin, and I find myself wishing I didn’t still care.
“It doesn’t matter.” I try to smile and shrug it off. “We should go get that beer and call it a night, I have a ton of work to do.”
Sawyer follows behind me to the car, his gazed drilling at my back, causing my pulse to race, and I yank the door open with a bit more force than I mean to, almost flinging it straight into Sawyer’s chest. His large palm easily brings it to a halt with a loud thud that may have hurt the door more than it hurt Sawyer, though I’m still slightly mortified that my body’s reaction to him was that intense. His questioning gaze fixes on me for a few seconds more before it turns unreadable.
“I’m not here to tend to your feelings, Maddie, whatever they may be, wherever they may stem from,” he says as if he’s reading an operational manual rather than talking to a person. “You don’t have to like me.”
“Just trust you with my life?” I try to sound as mechanical as him, though to my ears, it seems my voice is shaking.
“Just trust me with your life.” He gestures for me to climb into the car and closes the door behind me.
He slides into the driver’s seat, slipping the keys into the ignition and turning them, speaking without looking at me as he shifts into gear. “Try to act civil towards me when we’re in public. Harlow knows someone is digging into his operation. If he finds out you’re under protection, he’ll put two-and-two together, figure out you’re still following his digital trail. Wehaveto sell this friendship.”
“Okay.” I shrug in response, as if it’s the simplest of things, being on friendly terms with Sawyer while I’m battling the irrational emotion that being so close to him stirs in me.
I just need him to keep me alive long enough to uncover Daniel Harlow, and then I never have to see Sawyer Abernathy again.
Maddie
Sawyer’s sitting across from me, eyes intent on my face. The Irish pub we’re in is still at the quiet phase of the evening, which makes his overt stare and our lack of conversation even more uncomfortable.
I tap the wooden table, heat spreading through my chest until I think I might spontaneously ignite. “You’re glaring.”
“I’m trying to figure out if I’m still pissed at you for hacking my phone.” He leans back in his chair, still looking me over with that curious gaze.
“Are you?”
“Not really, but an apologywouldbe nice.” He raises an eyebrow, staring at me expectantly, and I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “You’re not getting out of saying sorry by flashing me that sly grin of yours, Techy.”
“I’m not trying to get out of it.” I laugh and Sawyer arches his eyebrow even higher. “Fine, I’m sorry for hacking your phone.”
“Are you really, though?” Sawyer takes a sip from his beer, his eyes sparkling with amusement, and I shrug.
“I felt like I was being watched and then I looked up and saw you. I panicked.” Sawyer’s amused gaze shifts to understanding. “I don’t believe in coincidence, Sawyer. I knew you wouldn’t show back up in my life by chance.”