Page 10 of Protected Hearts

His job? Was he some kind of police officer? FBI?

“Where are we going?” Her voice shivered with a combination of fear and a lack of oxygen that was starting to make her panic.

“Private airport.”

They made it down the street at a normal pace, but as he rounded the corner, he stepped on the gas. The slippery material of her dress made her slide in the seat. She planted her heels on the rubbery floor mat and gripped the armrest. Staying in her seat was the least of her worries though.

The mention of an airport, let alone a private one, made her blood run cold. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll find out soon.”

Feathers swirled in the air currents, tickling at her face and fluttering on her knees as though the birds they’d come from were still alive and trying to flee.

“Why are you driving a moving van?”

“Because I was helping my brother’s girlfriend move.” He made another turn, and she slid far to the left. The console dug into her side, but the boning of her dress was starting to dig in too.

In the back of the van, boxes tumbled around.

He sighed. “That was her boxes of shoes.”

She panted for air as she slithered a few inches back into the center of the seat and attempted to find a pocket of space inside the corset where she could fit her ribs.

He shot her a look. Then he whipped out a hand and yanked on the bow at the top of her laces along her spine.

Sweat broke out on her forehead. If he thought he could exercise his marital rights, he wasdead asswrong.

When he hooked a finger under the lace and yanked, she gasped. Precious air trickled into her lungs. All the way down her spine, he continued to loosen her laces.

He’d just helped her out.

Again.

She dragged in a huge breath, overfilling her lungs until she sputtered on a cough. “Th-thank you. This stupid dress.”

He tossed her another look and she saw he’d grabbed his phone. He pressed it to his ear and spoke in a low growl. “Meet me at the airstrip. I have to get on that plane. Now. And I’ve got a guest.”

He listened for a beat and twisted his gaze from the road to her. “What’s your name?”

She shook her head. “Just drop me at my sister’s in New York City. She can help me figure this out.” She hadn’t gone to Anya before now. They weren’t on good family terms, but most of all Shiloh didn’t want to involve her in the mess she’d leaped into herself.

He never shifted his penetrating stare from her. “Iam helping you figure this out. You’re coming with me. Tell me your name.”

He’d married her and didn’t even know her name? No wonder. To these people, she was less than human. Hadn’t that jackass William told Vanya he could change her name if he wished?

This guy had no information on her. He only had her and this damn dress.

“Give me your name, woman.” His fingers tightened on the phone in his grip.

She dropped her gaze to the ragged tear in his bottom lip. “Shiloh.”

“Shiloh…Malone,” he bit off into the phone.

“Excuse me?” a male voice projected loud enough through the speaker for her to hear.

“I’ll explain,” he told the speaker. Without another word, he ended the call and glanced into the rearview mirror. As she checked the side mirror to see if there was anyone following them, she almost slid off the seat again.

“Damn this dress.”

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