Page 23 of Guarded from Corruption

I’m fine. I don’t need anything. Thanks for asking. I’m just really into this book.

He’s already worried enough. The last thing I want to say is, I’m a total mess. I can’t concentrate on reading because my mind is going in twenty directions. Everything is all mixed up.

The only time I felt okay was when you held me.

Nope. Not saying any of that. So I’m pretending to read and working really hard at my poker face while everything inside is a turbulent mess.

Also, I don’t want to interfere with Niall’s job any more than I already have. Their launch is less than two weeks away, which means the entire team is working hard to make sure everything is ready. But Niall hasn’t left his apartment for the last two days other than for quick meetings with his teammates in the hallway.

I know why, and I feel guilty about it.

He would say that’s silly. That if the positions were reversed, I’d do the same thing. And he’d be right.

But guilt is a tricky, clinging thing.

And the guilt I’ve carried for the last three years is so much heavier here. It’s stickier, dragging everything into it. I worry that I’m upsetting Niall by being here. That I’m interrupting his job. That I’m taking away the opportunity from another pro-bono client by accepting Blade and Arrow’s help.

Of all the things I could worry about, my mind keeps coming back to something that happened years ago instead of the danger that surrounds me now.

Not that I could forget about all the other crap. That’s an impossibility.

I can’t avoid thinking about the nightmares that have haunted me for the last three nights—dreams of being trapped in that facility, touched, sold to a faceless monster. They were so bad that first night, Niall announced he was sleeping on the bedroom floor so he could get to me quickly.

Did I feel guilty about that, too? Yes. But knowing he was right there, that even if someone got into B and A, Niall would stop them… I couldn’t bring myself to refuse.

Another thing I can’t ignore is my rising anxiety. Usually well under control, but after everything that happened, I’m completely off balance.

My chest is constantly tight, like a yoga band’s been wrapped around it. I can’t stop tapping and jittering and pacing. And the cleaning…

So embarrassing.

Niall seeing me melting down over some spilled drops of coffee. And then me, sitting shame-faced as he inspected the counter and gently assured me it was perfect. Feeling near tears when he found lotion for my hand after I rubbed it raw with cleaning solution.

In the past, when I’ve had flareups, I could hide it. Alone in my apartment, no one knew if I cleaned a little too much or reorganized my bookshelves for the tenth time.

Rationally, I understand it. I’ve been through a traumatic experience and this is just my body reacting. But this is in front of Niall, and I don’t want him to see me as weak or broken.

“Jade. Are you doing okay?” I glance up from the Kindle to meet Niall’s gaze, and a tiny frisson of something moves through me, though I immediately try to quell it. His brows arch up. “Do you need anything? Are you hungry?”

I force a small smile. “I’m okay. Really. Just really interested in this book.”

He flashes me a skeptical look, but thankfully, doesn’t push it. Instead, he says, “We should eat something soon. You didn’t eat much for lunch. Or breakfast. I’m just going to finish this order, and I’ll get something started.”

Keeping up that little fixed smile, I nod. “Okay.”

I couldn’t stomach much at lunch because I was still mulling over the latest news about my case.

My case. It sounds so surreal. I’m supposed to be the one helping people. Not the one needing to be helped.

But if I’m going to have people helping me, I’m glad it’s Niall and his team. Not that I’d ever doubt Niall; I know how intense and driven he is—Ranger, trained sniper, Green Beret, weapons sergeant—but I’m learning the rest of his team is as well.

Dante and Xavier already visited my apartment in Austin under the guise of maintenance workers, coming back with news of hidden cameras and a tracker on my car. “We’re leaving them alone for now,” Dante explained. “We don’t want to tip anyone off that you have professional help involved. If they think you’re on your own, or with a friend, they’ll be more likely to make a mistake.”

Matthew worked his magic and got me hooked up with a new laptop that allows me to securely check my email and social media. That was another blow. I found worried messages from my friends and coworkers, all sounding scarily the same—they were approached by alleged family members saying they desperately needed to get in touch with me.

My first instinct was to reply to everyone, to tell them I’m safe. But Niall stopped me, explaining, “It’s safer if you’re off the radar for now. It’s possible one of your friends could have their phone tapped, or their computer hacked, so we don’t want you in contact with any of them.”

Then I got a message from Felix, and that put Niall on high alert. Not that what Felix said was bad—just a worried message asking if I was okay and where I was—but when I mentioned that I’d been on one uncomfortable date with him, the red flags were raised.

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