Page 18 of The Trail Boss

For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure if she was standing on solid ground. But as Gavin guided her toward her bedroom—she started to wonder how he knew where it was and realized there were only two doors out of the main room and one was clearly the bathroom. His hand was steady on her back, but she wasn’t entirely sure she didn’t want it to be there.

The faint scent of leather and Gavin’s aftershave reached her nostrils and she drank the scent in like it was a fine wine. It was a maddeningly comforting contrast to the whirlwind of anger and fear still coursing through her.

“Thanks for the rescue,” she muttered, her voice sharp and brittle. “But you didn’t need to get involved.”

Gavin laughed, not altogether humorously. “Didn’t need to? Roxie, someone just tried to run you over. What part of that sounds like something I should ignore?”

“It could’ve been a drunk driver,” she snapped, turning toward him. “You don’t know it was intentional.”

He let out another low, humorless laugh. “Drunk drivers don’t sit idling in the streets, driving up and down, waiting to pounce.”

Roxie flinched but recovered quickly, her frustration bubbling over. “So, what, now you’re my personal bodyguard? I can take care of myself, Gavin.”

“Yeah, I saw how well that was working tonight,” he shot back, his tone sharper than usual.

Her cheeks flushed, both from anger and the sting of his words. “I didn’t ask for your help,” she said, her voice quieter but no less stubborn.

“No,” Gavin said, his tone softening as he glanced at her. “You didn’t. But your friend Keely did. And for Keely to have better sense than you says something. You may not want my help, but you damn sure need it.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice clipped as she tried another tack. “It’s not your problem.”

“Wrong,” Gavin said, continuing to herd her toward the bedroom. “It became my problem the second someone tried to take you out.”

Roxie stopped abruptly on the landing, spinning to face him. “Why do you even care?” she demanded, her voice rising. “Why are you so hell-bent on playing hero when I don’t need one… don’t want one?”

Gavin stepped closer, his expression unyielding. “Because you don’t see what’s right in front of you. Someone out there wants you dead, Roxie. And I’m not about to let them get what they want.”

She stared at him, her breath catching at the intensity in his eyes. There was no arrogance there, no patronizing tone—just raw, unwavering resolve. It was maddening and… something else she couldn’t quite name.

“Stop acting like you know what’s best for me,” she said, her voice faltering slightly. “You don’t know me.”

“You’re right,” Gavin said, his voice low. “I don’t know you. Not yet. But I know enough to see you’re in trouble. And you can hate me for it all you want, but I’m not walking away.”

Roxie’s resolve wavered, the anger in her chest twisting into something closer to fear. She wandered into her bedroom. The familiar space felt smaller, darker, more suffocating than usual.

“You can’t stay here,” he said flatly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Roxie turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“It’s not safe,” Gavin said, stepping closer. “The locks are crap, there’s no visibility outside, and anyone with half a brain could break in here.”

Her shoulders tensed, her fists balling at her sides. “This is my home. It’s all I can afford.”

“And it’s a target,” Gavin said, his voice softening but no less firm. “Whoever’s after you? They know where you live. They know your routines. Staying here is asking for trouble.”

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but Roxie blinked them away, her pride warring with the truth in his words. “I don’t have anywhere else to go, Gavin,” she said quietly.

“You do now,” he said without hesitation.

She looked up at him, her breath catching as his steady gaze met hers. There was no judgment there, no pity—just an unwavering promise.

“Come with me,” Gavin said. “I’ve got a secure place. You’ll be safe there until we figure out who’s behind this.”

“I don’t...”

“You don’t have to like it,” Gavin interrupted gently. “You just have to trust me. Get some things together. I’ll let the team know where we’re going.”

Roxie stared at him, her walls beginning to crack under the weight of the day’s events. The memory of the car, the screech of tires, the feel of his arms pulling her to safety—it all camerushing back, leaving her chest tight and her defenses weaker than she wanted to admit.

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