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Guilty Guardian

Page 21

by Ajme Williams

Despite the adrenaline running through my body, despite my pounding heart and twisting stomach, my hands have stopped shaking.

She’s okay. I saved her.

That’s all that matters.

The longer we sit there, cuddling together, the more I realize that the affection I’m feeling can’t be allowed to grow.

I barely know her, and there are a thousand reasons why it would be a death sentence. But my trembling hands… What was I scared of?

Failure?

Or how close I came to losing someone I barely know but haven’t been able to stop thinking about since that night at the restaurant?

The woman who looked at me, and for the first time in years I felt like someone saw me?

Me, and not the grunt with a gun everyone else sees.

“Fucking hell,” I mutter to myself.

I’m never letting her out of my sight ever again.

What little freedom I granted her out of respect is gone, effective immediately.

5

AERIN

“You saved my life.” Words I shouldn’t have to say, but the truth is unavoidable.

It was supposed to be fun. They promised me fun. I thought they liked me. By the time I realized they were just taking me further and further away without any real care, it was too late. It became a game to them.

I just wanted a friend, and instead I got three people who wanted to take my money then led me up onto that walkway, promising to show me a beautiful view of the city. Instead, they wanted to kill me.

“We shouldn’t make this a habit.” Falco opens the door to a small house and ushers me inside. He lingers on the doorstep for a few seconds, staring up and down the street, then he joins me in the hallway and closes the door.

I don’t move.

I stand where he left me while he slides several locks into place and secures the door.

When he faces me, I try to look up at him, but Falco doesn’t look me in the eye. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was avoiding looking at me.

I blink slowly and the world fuzzes around the edges of my vision.

Falco guides me by the shoulders into a small kitchen that hasn’t seen love or warmth in years.

He sets his bag down on the single circular table in the middle of the room and starts to unpack.

A couple of long knives, ammo magazines, and his gun join each other on the table, followed by a small tin of instant coffee.

“Should I call my dad?” I clutch my hands together at my stomach.

“He knows,” Falco replies stiffly. “We’re staying here until I get the all clear.”

“All clear?”

Finally, he looks at me, not directly but he faces me for a short minute.

His golden eyes have lost all their sparkle, and they look almost black under the heavy curl of his brow.