Page 22 of Guarding Fable

I shift in my seat, trying to ease the pressure in my pants. I’m in my thirties and shouldn’t have a problem controlling my needs, but this woman just gets to me.

She sighs beside me, and it’s as if she brushed her hand over my dick. Everything she does just makes me hornier.

“Something wrong, Angel?”

She shrugs. “I usually like rain, but for some reason, this makes me nervous.”

“Nervous?”

“Yeah. It feels like something is waiting around every curve we go around. I’ve dealt with anxiety since my mother died.”

“You have?” I ask, trying my best to keep my voice normal. I know scant information about her, not that it matters. But I realize what a greedy bastard I am for details of her life before I met her.

She nods. “Destiny is the cool-headed one. The protector.”

“And that’s why she snuck you out?”

“Yeah.” She looks down at her fingers, tangled together. I’ve noticed that she does that when she’s nervous.

“We’ll find her, Angel. I promise.”

I reach out and pat her leg and glance over at her. She’s wearing the sweats Mirabelle brought her and a pair of my shoes. They were gigantic on her, so she stuffed socks into the toe and is wearing two socks.

I glance back up in the mirror and notice a sedan behind us. The road we’re on is a small country road that usually only has locals on it. I don’t recognize the car.

“What?” She looks behind us. “That car is going too fast.”

“Turn around, Angel, and make sure your seatbelt is on tight.”

She does as I order. “Why?”

I don’t answer her. I’m trying to keep my cool. If I was the only one in the truck, I wouldn’t hesitate to do a 180 and confront him. But I have my angel beside me, so I need to be extra careful.

The guy comes at us in a rush, smacking my bumper. I really don’t know what the hell he’s doing. His car is small compared to my Ford 150. The pelting rain makes visibility crappy. Still, we are almost to a two-lane highway that will make avoiding him easier.

The asshole has other plans.

He hits us again, bumping us, causing the truck to fishtail.

“Are you okay, Angel?”

“Yes,” she grits out, pulling a small smile from me. She’s small, but she’s mighty.

He hits us again, harder, but I was ready for it, turning into the spin and evening us out. He’s not that lucky.

The sedan he’s driving starts to spin, and the driver loses control. He spins out and into a ditch. I park the truck on the small shoulder.

“You stay here, with the doors locked. And here, call this into Frank. I want to make sure that we get this bastard in for questioning.”

She takes my phone, and I leave her. I hear the locks engage, and I make my way over to the car. Damn, he fucked up the car. The horn is blaring as I approach. The front end took the brunt of the damage, as the vehicle's rear is pointed to the road. I have my gun out trained on him.

He’s passed out, slumped over the wheel. I’m careful as I approach him, making sure he doesn’t pull a gun on me. I reach in and feel for a pulse. It’s steady and strong. He has a cut on his forehead, and a little blood is dribbling out, but other than that, he looks fine. I see a gun on the seat beside him, so I reach over and grab it. I step back and keep my weapon trained on him.

“Hey, asshole, wake up.”

He stirs, and it takes him a second to orient himself. He reaches for his gun.

“I have it.”

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