Page 43 of Taking Root

Chapter Twenty-One

Danny woke up at four in the morning, the bright neon light of the clock on Adrian’s nightstand mocking her.

After she and Adrian had stuffed themselves with Chinese food, watched the first Terminator movie, and then fucked again in a lazy, languid way, Danny should’ve been euphoric. The night had been everything she’d ever dreamed of in secret, the life she’d always wanted and the person she wanted to share it with. Yet the confrontation tomorrow loomed like a sledgehammer to a glass house.

Adrian’s arm weighed her down, and when she tried to move forward, he pulled her in closer. Danny swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sting of tears. With his tousled dark hair and long lashes, he looked like painted perfection. The slope of his jaw, the olive skin she’d licked and sucked last night, and the salt and cedar scent of him made her heart ache. Around him, she felt safe in a way she’d forgotten existed. Like the constant vigilance and shifting shadows didn’t matter.

He couldn’t go out there risking his life with her today. He didn’t know what her father was capable of—not the way she did. If Adrian got hurt out there, he had so much more to lose—patients he could save at the hospital and family members who relied on him, whereas she might just leave behind withering plants. Bringing him along wasn’t just risky but selfish.

Danny slipped out from beneath his arm, and he stirred for a moment, reaching out for her. She placed a pillow between his arms instead, and he settled down, his steady breathing a tip off. The idea of facing her father alone terrified her more than jumping off a plane with no parachute, but if it meant keeping Adrian safe? She would do it. Not for the first time, she wished she could be Danny Reynolds, a simple gardener who moved into town for a fresh start. Not Sam Peterson with the fucked-up past threatening to pull her under like quicksand.

Obi-Wan stirred from sleeping on the edge of the bed, and those moon-eyes blinked open as he let out a low yowl. Her heart squeezed tight at the sight of the little guy she’d already started growing attached to, the one who’d insisted on curling at her feet tonight.

She grabbed her clothes from the floor, donning her jeans and t-shirt like armor. With the familiar weight of her pistol, pepper spray, and her knife, she felt steadier on her feet even if resolve was hard to come by. Kyle Peterson was smarter, more ruthless, and had years of experience to back him. In a one-on-one fight, she didn’t stand a chance at beating him.

However, her goal had never been to defeat him in a fight. This time, she aimed higher. Even if she sacrificed herself in the process and her father achieved his goal of crossing her name off his list, he wouldn’t be able to escape the Feds again. Not while she used herself as distraction.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand—she might not have Bella at the moment, but she could always snag an Uber. At this point, the Feds would be looking not only for her father but her as well. Her throat dried as she glanced to where Adrian slept. He would be furious with her in the morning when he woke up, but after the perfect night they’d spent together, she couldn’t bear something happening to him. The strength he showed in letting her make the calls was one she couldn’t emulate when it came to her father and his growing body count.

The steps let out a light creak that echoed through the house, which was stained by the subterranean hues of early morning. Her palm skated along the railing, as if she could leave a part of her behind in this place, some sign she’d existed.

Danny walked toward the door, the feeling like she’d forgotten her wallet lingering, even if it sat in the same pocket as earlier. Unsurprising, since she prepared to leave Adrian behind. Her throat tightened. God, she was so tired of running. Always running.

Her hand rested on the knob, the shock of cold fitting.

“Were you just going to walk out?” a voice came from the steps.

Danny froze.

“After everything we talked about and everything we agreed on, you’d leave me in the dark?” The accusation in his voice slayed her, and she couldn’t bear to turn around and see the hurt shining in his eyes.

Danny sucked in a deep breath and forced herself to face him. The steps creaked as he continued down the steps. In nothing but a loose pair of pajama pants, he was so fucking hot, but she knew better than to try and distract him right now. His gaze bled with anger, and his mouth formed a thin line as he approached. Guilt washed over her in such a fierce wave she could barely stand.

“Yeah, I was running.” She forced the words out.

“Was everything you told me a lie?” he asked, his voice cracking. “What happened to staking your claim?”

“Honestly?” she said, looping her thumbs into her pockets. “My feelings for you haven’t changed in the slightest, and that’s what terrifies me. Adrian, you have no idea what this man is capable of. What it’s like to know Jeffery freakin’ Dahmer read you bedtime stories.”

“So what makes you think you can take on someone that dangerous by your lonesome?” he accused, crossing the space between them. She opened her mouth, but no words tumbled out. In the silence, clarity descended in his gaze. “You don’t expect to return.”

He reached forward and grabbed her hands, squeezing them tight in his own. Even still, his eyes flashed like lightning. “You know what? Fuck you. Checking out, running away, that’s not how you fight for the people you love.”

Danny shook her head, squeezing his hands back. She hated this. She hated the guilt that made her want to scrub her skin raw every time she remembered who she was related to. “He’s my father, Adrian. My father. If anyone should’ve stopped him, it should’ve been me. All the lost lives…they weigh on me every damn day.”

A storm churned in his eyes. This was it. He’d order her out the door and she’d leave tomorrow to face her father, knowing not a soul in the world cared if she lived or died.

Adrian wrapped his arm around her and drew her in tight. Her cheek pressed against his chest as he rested his chin on her head. The possessive, tender motion caused tears to escape her, splashing onto his bare skin.

“You had a fucked-up family,” he murmured, his tight grip around her the one thing keeping her upright.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” She offered a watery laugh, unable to believe the levels of patience and understanding this man exhibited. Danny sucked in another shaky breath before continuing. “I do know I promised you’d be with me. I know I violated your trust in trying to leave, and I’m sorry. When I think about the man responsible for ruining my life and so many others and remember we share the same DNA, I can’t separate the guilt. It makes me so sick with him, with myself, and with the world that I can barely breathe.”

“You aren’t him,” Adrian said, as if separating the two could be so simple. “You told me you left Samantha Peterson behind, so you’re Danny Reynolds, right? And you agreed to make your own destiny, not let the past rule yours. I get you haven’t had family and friends to fight for, the type who stick around even through hard times. I know you’re running on the sort of guilt and fear cocktail that would cripple anyone. But I’m asking you here and now to trust me enough to stand by your side tomorrow.”

Her eyes burned with fresh tears. She was so tired of crying, but all the doors she thought sealed, he pried open. She sank into his embrace, those strong arms around her keeping her standing. All this time, she’d only ever known running, the impulse ingrained in her. This staying to fight thing breached into new territory, and she had so much to learn.

Faced with Adrian’s question, her answer grew clear. No matter how many doubts circulated in her head and no matter how much she wanted to protect him from the family monster, she trusted him. Just like Adrian showed his trust by sitting in the passenger seat on this one, she needed to trust him enough to stand by her side. No matter how much the memories of Kyle Peterson numbed her brain.

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