Page 3 of Country

“I don’t see how this is relevant.” I look back at the clock. “You have three more minutes. Make them count.”

“It’s relevant because your reaction would drive his next move. By the sounds of it, he’s makin’ emotional decisions.”

I grin. “That man is not emotional. Trust me, he’s a jerk.”

“A jerk who’s driven by emotion.”

My eyes roll to the side. This man is a lot of things, but he’s got Mike pegged all wrong. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, you said he’s been back here since y’all broke up. Clearly, he’s still feelin’ something for ya. Emotional. If he were usin’ his brain, he’d run as far as he could. He has to know there are hunters after him by now.”

My stomach tightens and my chest burns. I stand from the sofa and pace back toward the kitchen. “Time’s up.”

I’ve made it nearly to the counter when I misstep and trip, falling flat on my ass. I’m not hurt, but humiliation keeps me down for a long second. What the hell did I even trip on? There’s nothing on the floor.

Country makes his way toward me in two long strides. His rough hands land on my forearms as he helps me up. “You oka—” He stops speaking in the middle of his sentence and his gaze drops to my arm where the robe I’ve been wearing has fallen.

I already know what he sees, and I’m sick with embarrassment.

I glance up at the giant, unsure of what to say. It’s clear what this mark is. Last I checked, there were still fingerprints attached.

“Who did this?” His tone is nearly a growl.

I pull my robe up, hiding the bruise, but he pulls it away and studies my body, counting all the marks that cover my shoulders, my arms, and my back. I flinch away. “Get out!”

“No!” he growls. “Who did this?”

“Who do you think?” I bite.

“When?”

“Three weeks ago.” I lower my head and embarrassment washes over me. I hate that I ever trusted Mike. Hate it. I mean, I lived with this for years. I let him get away with it. I believed that I was in the wrong, that I deserved whatever he gave me. The weird thing is, at the end of the day, it’s not the physical stuff that bothers me. It’s the part where I let a man tell me he loved me, while he hurt me. I let that be my story.

Country tips his finger under my jaw and lifts my gaze to his. “This isn’t the first time this has happened, is it?”

I shake my head. “I’m fine. We said eighteen minutes. Here’s your gun. Have a good night.”

“I’m not leaving.” His tone is rough as he speaks. And though I’m sure he only feels sorry for me, I like that he wants to stay. That said, I push him away anyhow. Maybe I want to know how badly he wants to stay. Or maybe I know deep down that spending the night with an armed stranger isn’t a good idea.

“You are leaving. That was the deal. You came in, you got information, and now you leave.”

“That was before this guy was a threat to you. Now I can’t leave. You’d be in danger.”

I laugh and open the door, letting in the summer breeze and the wild scent of honeysuckle. “I’m not in danger.”

“I either sit here or in the driveway. You choose.”

I’ve never had the protection of a man before. I dated Mike right out of high school and the closest he ever got to protecting me came on the heels of jealousy, which always ended with me being blamed for something random. I think this made him feel better about his outbursts. If he had me to blame, he didn’t have to work on himself.

That said, Country’s motives might not be pure either. He stands to gain money on this bounty, so I doubt his protection is really about me.

“How much is he worth?” I glance up at the massive man towering over me. He smells good, like a pine forest that’s been rolled in leather.

“I don’t care how much he’s worth anymore. The bounty is that I bring him in alive, but he doesn’t deserve alive.”

Warmth washes over me, but I roll my eyes in spite of that. The last thing I need is to get sucked into thinking some random man cares when he doesn’t. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doin’ what?” His jaw locks and his big arms cross over his chest.

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