Page 53 of Protected By the Billionaire Ex-SEAL

I’m glad he checked, too, because the idea of young, defenseless girls being taken and stripped of their rights just curdles something in my stomach. The news means I can put that worry away and focus on this: cooking a nice dinner until Christian gets here so we can catch up and have our meal with wine.

An hour later, I receive another text from him, one that makes my heart jump.

I’m close. Can’t wait to be home.

Then—

I can’t wait to see you.

God, he knows just what to say to turn me inside out.

When I hear the knock on the door, my smile is so wide as I fly toward it. My hands are giddy as I unlock it, the questions already brimming. But I know I want to give him a big hug first.

“Hey—”

The rest of the words disperse from my mind when it registers that the person in front of me isn’t Christian. But he’s someone I recognize.

And he’s someone who makes my blood run cold.

Instinct has me slamming the door immediately, but Sam’s faster than me as he blocks it with his foot and shoulders his way in. He holds up his hands as if to say he means no harm, and his eyes and smile are friendly. He looks charming, but he always does.

He looks the same, and it sends a sliver of fear deep in my gut.

“Hey, is that a way to welcome a guest?”

My hands are shaking. My entire body is, too, and it takes everything in me to keep it in and not let it take over. Warning bells ring in my head that this is a dangerously familiar situation to be in, but it’s too late.

“What are you doing here?”

Sam’s observing me, too, albeit more calmly—like he just decided to pop in and visit a friend and not the person he stalked relentlessly. That sends another wave of coldness through my body.

“What, no hi? No how are you?” He smiles again, still as friendly as ever, but there’s an edge to it that I know all too well. “I should have expected it, though I was hoping for a warmer welcome. After all, you did run away from me.”

“I—”

“And sent the cops after me. Can you imagine how betrayed I feel?”

Oh, God.

My gaze darts around for my phone and finds it near the coffee table, but he spots it first and snatches it right away, then tucks it in his pocket. He’s also still blocking the path to the front door. I calculate the odds of unlocking the back door or running toward my bedroom, but he’s one step ahead of me as he blocks the latter, too, and corners me in the kitchen.

If I unlock the back door, it’ll take time. If I manage that small miracle and run toward the fields, he’ll still catch up?—

“Hey, are you even listening? Did you hear what I just said?”

There’s an ugliness to his voice that tightens my stomach. The last time I heard it, I made my excuse to the bathroom, but I’m painfully aware that I can’t use that excuse now. My nerves are on edge and I can hear how small my voice sounds.

“I heard you.”

He flashes another quick smile. “Oh, good. I was hoping we could talk.”

Terror clamps my throat when I remember what our last talk led to. But understanding also dawns that I have to get him talking—because if he’s talking, it means he won’t get aggressive yet. I have to keep him distracted.

I have to survive.

The petrifying feeling washes over me before a sense of calm takes over. My chin lifts and my voice is louder.

“Only if you tell me how you found me.”

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