Page 94 of Wanted

A hand lands heavy on my shoulder, and I whirl and shrug it off. “Don’t.”

Jude’s fingers curl into fists at his sides, and his shoulders rise with his heavy breaths. Those gray eyes that normally tell so much study me behind shuttered walls.

“I told you when we first met that I’m not some damsel.”

“I don’t…” He clears his throat. “I don’t think you’re some damsel.”

“Then when I say I can handle it, you have to trust that I can.”

“He was threatening you.”

I throw my hands up, completely overwhelmed and mortified by the last twenty minutes. “I don’t give a shit!”

More people arrive then, our audience moving closer as they sense a shift. One of the girls wraps her arm around me. I don’t see who it is before I bury my face in her neck.

“You’re okay. Let it out, Frankie,” Whitney coos, her cheek resting against the crown of my head.

I hiccup against her, and my shoulders buck.

“What do you need?”

“I just need to go home.”

The air around me grows wired.

I pull my face free, wiping the streaks on my cheeks with my sleeve. “Not home, home. I just need somewhere I can be alone,” I plead with her.

A few beats of silence pass as she stares at Jack over my head.

“Do you want to go back to Jude’s?” she whispers.

And as much as it crushes my heart, I shake my head. “I just need a minute to sort myself out.”

“What about the motel?” Whitney offers.

“She’s not going to the fucking motel,” Jude roars, and the pain in his voice tears me apart.

“She’ll be safe, brother. I’ll make sure of it.”

I know in the pause that follows that Jude is counting in his head, and I hate myself for it.

23

Jude

“Where is she?” I snarl, slamming my palms down on the front desk at the motel.

Jack helped whisk Frankie away while I had to return to the adoption event. I know she needed time to cool down, we both did, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to bring her home to wait there. As soon as the clock hit four, I shot out of the tent like a bat out of hell and raced the half mile down the road. The only thing slowing me down was the desperate impulse to count before I got out of my van.

“She’s in her room,” Jack says, his voice quiet and gentle.

“Don’t.” I point a finger at his chest. “She’s here because of you.”

“And?”

“What do you mean and?”

“Tell me how that’s a problem.”

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