Page 36 of If Our Hearts Collide

“Can you be more specific?”

“I’ll need to run them on anyone you decide to share close contact with.” His words come out gruff, and the raspiness does something to me that I cannot put into words.

“Anything else?”

“There will be a security system install or upgrade.”

I glance out the window as we leave Hillsboro, heading toward the city. “Fair enough. Anything else?”

“My”—he clears his throat—“duties evolve depending on the threats.”

I turn to look at him, despite his eyes staying forward on the road. “Maybe there will be no threats. Did that ever cross your mind?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Except it is.”

Collins lets out an exaggerated breath. “I’m just following through on a job I was assigned.”

I growl. Mark Tanner threatened me, but that psycho just wanted to get under my skin. All of the bad guys are locked up and going to spend the rest of their miserable lives behind bars. “Maybe my life will be completely boring and your position will be”—I sweep out my hand, catching his attention—“discontinued.”

“If it helps you to think like that, go for it.”

I should be happy that Collins isn’t filling the silence with more silence. That’s what he does, though. He avoids talking. So, since he has shared with me more than I ever expected, Ishouldbe thankful. Relieved, even. But I’m not. I’m anxious and on edge.

Knowledge isn’t power at all. It is fuel for my anxiety.

Collins sharing the behind-the-scenes arrangement wasn’t for my benefit. No, it was for his. Maybe he thinks that if I know the basic plan, then I’ll submit and let everything run smoothly with his position.

Too bad. I’m done following the rules. I’m done having people tell me when to eat, what to eat, or how much to eat. I’m done with curfews and bedtimes. I’m done with safetychecks and drills throughout the day. I’m done with having a gatekeeper.

Everyone can think I am the youngest Hoffman princess. However, no one is going to come between me and my goal list—not even the broody bodyguard that is stewing beside me, probably working himself into a tizzy. I can already tell he is conjuring up some epic plan to derail me.

Problem is, my liberation plan is better.

7

COLLINS

Whatever initial thoughts I had about this being the easiest assignment to date, I obviously take it back. Nothing about Penny Hoffman is going to be simple.

I thought I would go off the path and introduce the idea to Penny of me keeping an eye on her. I figured this would gain her trust and buy her acceptance by being upfront with her. However, seeing her fidget in the passenger seat beside me, twisting her golden blonde locks around her manicured finger, and sucking on her bottom lip to the point where I’m about to yell at her to give it life…

Yeah.

I misread this whole situation.

I pride myself on picking up on social cues and analyzing what is best based on the scenario. Yet, here I sit, at yet another red light, trying to figure out how to get us both back on track, without any clear path to success in sight.

“Why are you so resistant to working together?” I ask nonchalantly. I need to get her to talk. When Penny starts ranting, I gain way more information than I normally would about what she is thinking.

I see the rise of her chest in my periphery. I hate seeing her stressed out, and yet, that is exactly what I’m doing to her. This is not how I envisioned our morning going. When I arrived at the Hoffmans’ house to pick her up, I expected a car ride of small talk and pleasantries. I got the opposite.

I slow down as another light changes to red, wondering if this ride will ever end. I just want to get Penny safely into her brother’s building, so I can take a moment to decompress.

“Can you please stop at the coffee shop on the corner?”

So this is what it’s like to be on the receiving end when someone wants to avoid questions. I know I’ve driven quite a few people mad with my lack of words. Now I know how frustrating it feels.

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