Page 11 of Her Billionaire Protector

He runs over, kicks the jug out of the way and sets to struggling with the chains.

“Who.”

“I don’t know,” I lie. “I don’t want to find out.”

Armin shrugs. “So I’ll hithimin the face too.”

“Please.” My voice breaks. I’m cold, all of a sudden. My skin prickles with a clammy sweat. “Just get me out of here.” He leaves me to pat down my dropped attacker and comes up short,then runs into the office. I struggle to keep upright, but my legs give out.

I hang by my arms and listen to Armin curse and destroy whatever’s in that room.

It’s soothing.

That’s probably the drugs.

Or maybe that’s Armin.

I nod off to the distant and satisfying crash of what must be a file cabinet and another string of expletives.

I wake up to a much closer set of curse words. They get louder and louder until I fall forward, and I force my eyes open, gasping. I strain forward with my hands, still stuck, chained up. There’s no way to catch my fall.

But I don’t have to. Armin’s torn me and my cross off the wall with his bare hands. He drags me over to the SUV and props me up against the door while he climbs in back to lower the seats for me and my new getup.

“You’re a real handful sometimes,” he says. “You know that?”

I shrug, my chains rattling.

Armin drags me and my cross over the threshold, tilting me sideways so I fit through the door.

“I guess we should have stuck with the code names,” I rasp. My throat’s gone dry. It’s been a long night since I left this apartment. And it’s not over yet.

“Mia, stop.” He’s mad. He drags me all the way inside and kicks the door shut.

“You like me like this. All tied down. Admit it.”

He lowers me down on the floor, slow and careful. “It’s the only way you stay put.” His eyes have a sheen to them. “Otherwise you’re only a beautiful memory.”

Armin’s in a bad way. I must be more banged up than the last time he pulled me out of a near-death experience. I want to say a few more clever things to lighten the mood, but my ribs are too bruised for a lot of chit-chat and the drugs are a chemical muzzle. Plus he’s busy sawing away at these chains anyway.

So I stay quiet.

Finally, the last ankle bracelet clangs to the floor. “Bath?”

“Yeah. Just. I need a minute.”

He nods, and lifts me up off the cross, and slides me into bed.

I struggle to raise up the corner of the blanket with a shaky hand. Armin stands there, looking down on me. Doesn’t budge. Maybe he’s done with me. This was it, the final nail in the coffin of Armin’s patience.

And it’s for the best.

But no. He swipes at his eyes and climbs in next to me.

It’s not nighttime after all: it’s dark because it’s raining outside. I can hear it drumming on the roof. Armin grabs a remote from the end table and hits a button, and the tint on the windows lightens so we can see outside.

I hold my breath to brace against the pain and readjust my body to lean on him, his broad chest warm against my back. I get there in no less than two groans.

“If only they’d hooked me up with another dose,” I quip.