Page 15 of Untamed Protector

A gut feeling tells me to trust him, but my hand snags the baseball bat under the seat, anyway. I crack the window open just enough for the phone to squeeze through. “Slide it in,” I growl. Lena grabs the bat from me like she’s about to whack a piñata, holding it up as Dean raises an eyebrow, unsure how to react.

“Don’t even think about trying anything funny, dude. I swear I’ll smack your fingers,” Lena yells. I close the window and press the speaker so we can both hear.

“Gabriel?”

“Lexi, it’s Gabriel. Dean is there to protect you. I sent him to watch your back. Peter told me everything.”

His cool and steady voice makes me shiver—the same kind that ran through me when he held me close on the dance floor. I’m still scared, but hearing him is strangely soothing to the storm brewing inside me. And somehow, all I want this second is for him to hold me in his arms again, his hand warm and steady on my knees, anchoring me before my legs turn to jelly. God, Lexi! I force a breath in, praying my voice won’t squeak like a rusty hinge as I try to answer him calmly.

“Okay. So, what do I do now?”

“Dean will see you home safely. One of my guys will guard the house tonight. Have you called the cops?”

“Not yet.”

“It’s okay, there’s no need. We’ll take care of it.”

“Who’s we?”

“I’ll explain tomorrow at Peter’s office. Just settle down, get a few hours’ sleep, and we’ll talk.”

“Okay, tomorrow. I’ll hang up now. Oh, and thanks, I suppose.”

I hear him grumble, something that sounded like a no problem, before going back to his bossy tone. “Text me when you’re home. See you tomorrow. Give the phone back to Dean now without hanging up.”

I crank the car window down and give Dean his phone back. He starts talking to Gabriel, but I can’t make out what he says as he’s got his back to me.

A few seconds later, he turns around to us. “Hi again, Lexi.”

“Hi. Dean, this is my friend Lena.” She drops the bat at my feet and reaches out her hand. “Hey. Sorry for that earlier. And thanks. What happened? Who was in that car, do you know?”

“Our guys tailed them, but the car disappeared into the alleys. We’re gathering more information now. My colleagues are searching for it. I’m here to see if you guys are okay. Can you drive?”

“You bet! This is my car, and no asshole is going to scare me,” Lena says. “How do I get out of here? Are the tires stuck on something?”

“It’s okay. You can back up. We’ll make room for you in a minute, and I’ll tag along behind you.”

“Great, thanks,” Lena chirps, like we haven’t just been through hell and back. I’m still hyped up from all the adrenaline, my heart pounding like a drum. There’s no way I’ll forget the last fifteen nightmare minutes anytime soon. I hardly ever forget anything, as much as I’d like to, sometimes.

Once we’re alone, Lena grabs my hand before she starts the car.

“I think it’s time you took those threats you got seriously. This is getting insane.”

5

Lexi

“Peter wants me to take you straight to his office,” the driver who picked me up this morning says.

Last night was a blur. Lena offered whiskey to help, but I refused—I needed all my wits about me. The unfinished puzzle on the table, usually my go-to sleep remedy, had little appeal. My mind craved stillness. Every detail of last night’s conversation played on repeat, waiting to be deciphered when I had more information.

I kept peeping out the window to check if Gabriel’s team was there, but then I decided to trust them. Lena and I were both exhausted from the car ordeal. She unwound with music and a nightcap while I crashed into bed immediately.

The other big surprise hit me when I got home—a microphone nestled on my dress zipper like a tiny mechanical spider. Anyone in the crowd, or Gabriel’s team, could’ve planted it. I showed it to Lena and told her to keep quiet, but she could’ve already let something slip while we were in her car.

Finding the bug on my dress was infuriating. I probably would’ve ripped it to shreds if it were not for the car chase. But Lena stopped me, snapped a picture, and dove headfirst into Google. It was a short-range microphone with GPS—the kind that requires close proximity for eavesdropping. The culprit was clear, since Gabriel’s team was the only one near me. I’ll return this little gift to its sender as soon as Peter tells me where to find Mr. Gabriel Ross—if he doesn’t find me first.

Peter’s driver has been picking me up every morning since the threats started. They’re not exactly death threats, but they’re menacing enough to keep me on edge. The messages—boldly printed on A4 sheets—were chillingly direct: “Leave this city, or you’ll regret it,” “Stop digging where you don’t belong,” “Disappear, or we’ll make you disappear,” and the more concise, “Stay the fuck out.”

---