Page 1 of Taste of Addiction

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I angrily wipe at the tears that cascade down my cheeks.

“Why are you doing this?” I whisper, my voice trembling with each spoken syllable. The lump in my throat triples in size, and I cannot keep my eyes dry long enough to see Graham who is a foot in front of me.

He pulls me into him and my damp face presses into the softness of his sweater. Hands tangle in my hair and pull my head upward to look at him. I blink, and two steady rivers leak from my eyes, as if a dam has broken.

“I need you to trust that I love you and that I am doing everything for us. I’m preserving our future. No one can touch you here. You’ll be safe. It’ll buy me some time at the very least.”

“You are locking me away?”

“Sweetheart, I am keeping you safe.”

“By keeping me prisoner here?” I demand, glancing over to the fortress. Damn him. “I have classes. A job,” I argue, tugging at the hem of his shirt in desperation to get him to listen. To reconsider whatever it is he has planned.

“You’re on fall break for the next eleven days. The cafe will be running on limited staff and with limited hours. Essentially, you have nothing pressing that needs your attention back in Portland. Consider this a retreat.”

I swallow hard. He is always one step ahead. He knows my schedule and exactly what to say. He almost sounds logical. Except he is forgetting about the big picture and the demands of my research project. How will I ever be able to have something to present to Dr. Williams that will wow him when I will be cooped up inside this dungeon for the foreseeable future?

“So this is it?” I look over at the house. “You’re just dropping me off and then going back to Portland?”

“Dammit, Angela.” His hands shake me. “This isn’t fun for me! I’m going completely nuts over Tanner targeting you, and I need to remove you from the equation long enough so I can shut him down.”

“And how are you going to do that, Graham? You think in eleven days, you’re going to somehow come up with adequate intel to pass along to the FBI or to your brother or whomever—that will be sufficient enough to draw out all of the key players in the drug ring? Just because I’m not around to interfere? You’re delusional! You need me more than you think you do. I can easily work undercover and be the agency girl who lures out all the bad guys.”

“Me, delusional?” Graham steps back and pulls at his hair, looking up into the sky. “You still cannot wrap your head around the fact that you’ll never be sacrificial bait. First, hell will have to freeze over for me to allow you to put yourself at risk like that. Second, you’ve been caught by them. They may not know why you have a personal interest in their corrupt organization, but they definitely know you’re involved in trying to shut them down.”

I sigh and look away. He’s right. There is no longer a good way for me to continue gathering new information on Tanner—other than through Paul. He is my ticket. But eleven days stuck here?

“You don’t have to keep me here for a week and a half, Graham. I can follow directions from the comfort of the penthouse or my townhouse.”

His eyes burn holes in my resolve. He shakes his head. “You’re staying here. I have to separate myself from you so I can think clearly and come up with a plan.”

“I hate this,” I choke out.

“Oh baby, this is all killing me inside. I hate seeing you sad. It guts me.” He scoops me up into his arms and carries me toward the house. “Just trust me, okay?”

I nod through my cloudy vision of tears. I had gotten so used to having Graham around that the thoughts of not being able to be physically near him make me want to punch something. “I love you.”

He squeezes me tighter to him and kisses my forehead. “I’m so utterly in love with you that I’m willing to break your heart now in order to gain your entire heart later.”

With one hand he opens the front door and treads softly through the house. When he rounds the bend, we are confronted by his elite team of men, all standing at full posture and ready to meet their captive.

“What was that, sweetheart?”

I sigh. I must be muttering things under my breath again. “Is it time to meet my wardens?”

He ignores my snarky comments, setting me down on my feet. “Angie, you know Collins. You have been acquainted with Austin and Parker.” Each man tips their head when addressed. “However, you have yet to meet Malcolm”—Graham gestures toward the biggest man out of the crew—“and Owen.”

Everyone smiles politely at me, which makes me feel the pangs of guilt for being such a brat. I try to bite back the scowl that wants to form on my face. This isn’t their fault they got assigned the worst babysitting job on the planet. “Nice to meet you all,” I mutter, my tone that of indifference. It is all just too much to take in right now. I can’t believe Graham is doing this to me.

I yelp as I get scooped back up and toted up the stairs. Graham meanders down the hallway to the room at the very end. I lift my head to look around. The walls are painted a soft shade of gray. The huge California king bed has a solid-black stained wooden frame. The drapes are open and the forest of trees takes up the entire span of windows. A deep lavender shade is the accent color in the room and provides a punch of color in the bedding set, the curtain ties, and in the artwork.

“What do you think?” he asks, placing me on the center of the bed and joining me at my side.

“Pretty nice for a jail cell.”

“Angie…”

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