Page 14 of Protecting Olivia

I quickly pulled my wet tee over my head and tossed it in the sink. Pulled my cargos on over my wet boxers all the while Olivia remained quiet. I dried her off. Nothing. Not a word. I held the towel up to give her privacy while she put on clean sweatpants and a tee, still nothing. I carried her back to the gurney, not only did she not speak, she wouldn’t look at me.

I had screwed up royally, yet I didn’t know what to say to fix it. Or if I should even try. God knows I’d said enough to traumatize the girl already. I opted to keep my trap shut and let someone else help her. Maybe it was for the best. Every time she looked at me with her warm eyes she made me feel things I wasn’t entirely comfortable with. Things that were not meant for a man like me. Olivia deserved a well-dressed man who sat behind a desk all day, a safe man who she could make a life with. Not a roughneck like me who wore a bulletproof vest and carried a gun. I had to stay away from her.

The moment she was back on the gurney, Westinghouse was at her side swabbing her forearm and inserting her IV. She no longer requested my presence while the doctor was tending to her. I took that as my cue to beat feet and get away from her.

“Anything new?” I asked, when I approached Garrett, pulling a clean tee over my head.

“We got bigger problems than we had originally thought. I went over the intel Tex gave me, things have gone from bad to worse.”

Before I could question Garrett further, the door swung open. One very frantic mother came to an abrupt halt when she found five pissed off men leveling guns in her direction. I’m quite sure Pamela Cox had never been on the business end of a Sig P226 before, let alone five.

“Oh. My. God,” she screamed.

Five weapons were lowered, and five sets of eyes rolled as she rushed to her daughter’s side. The damn crazy woman was a cunt hair from taking one. And where the hell was Peter Newton and why wasn’t he keeping the woman under control?

No sooner had the thought crossed my mind, Peter rushed in behind Pamela. He looked like hell. He also looked like he had a lot to say, I’m not sure how I drew that conclusion, but the man looked like his world had crashed in around him, and he was mad as shit about it. It was a far cry from his normal political poker face. He remained in the doorway as Pamela rushed to Olivia.

“Thank God,” Pamela cried and leaned over the bed to hug her daughter. She looked like I would expect any mother to look like after finding out her daughter was safe and sound – relieved.

Pamela was a beautiful woman, she was always dressed to the nines. I had never seen the woman any other way. It was as if she had a personal stylist with her at all times. Only today, she had on jeans and a wrinkled button-up shirt.

“I’m fine.” I heard Olivia choke out.

“Thank God,” Pamela repeated. “My sweet girl.”

Olivia sobbed into her mother’s chest for long moments before she wrapped her arms around her and Pamela bent over her daughter. “I love you, Mom.”

“Thank God.” Pamela had not moved, and she continued to hug Olivia, obviously not able to find any other words to say. Not that I blamed her. “I love you, sweet girl.”

Olivia’s grip on her ma loosened and her arms dropped to the bed.

“I need a minute,” Olivia wheezed. “I can’t… I need a minute.” Something had changed, the initial relief of seeing her ma was gone and panic laced her tone.

It was clear that Olivia was struggling to catch her breath again. Without thinking, I went to the other side of the gurney and grabbed Olivia’s hand.

“Ms. Cox, you need to back up,” I stated.

Pamela stood straight and squared her shoulders, obviously not pleased with my outburst. Not that I cared. Olivia had asked twice, and the woman had not backed off.

“Look at me, Olivia,” I demanded and placed her small hand on my chest. With my plate carrier off, I could now feel her nails digging in through my tee. “Breathe with me.”

I inhaled slowly, holding my breath for a second before I exhaled. I watched as she struggled to copy my breathing.

“That’s it, tesorino. Slow. Almost there.”

We continued to breathe slowly, her nails stopped gouging my chest, and I let go of her hand.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“No need to thank me.”

How was I going to stay away from her?

Chapter Eight

Olivia

My head was spinning.