Page 19 of Property of Spike

The building is quiet as I make my way outside and to the gate, the darkness cloaking me. The cool night air nips at my skin, but I welcome the sting.

Inside the four solid walls of the compound are houses. A few windows are lit up which tells me that the reason the main building was so quiet was because everyone probably went home.

As I approach the gate, I silently hope it’s not the same guy as before. A few steps closer, relief washes over me when I see it isn’t. The gate guard stands tall, his silhouette imposing in the moonlight. He’s not standing inside the booth like the guy before but is leaning on the wall. His sharp eyes lock onto me the moment I approach.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, his voice steady but curious.

“I need to leave,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm and even. “Please, open the gate.”

“Can’t do that,” he grunts, his stance solid as the stone wall surrounding the compound.

“Why not?” My voice cracks despite my best efforts.

“Orders from the Prez,” he replies, his expression softening just slightly. “Nobody comes in or out without his say-so.”

My stomach churns. “Am I a prisoner?”

The man steps fully into the security light, and I see his face. He looks slightly familiar. Must be one of the men we passed on our way to the guest room.

He shakes his head. “No, ma’am. But I’ve got my orders.”

Before I can say another word, the sound of heavy boots crunching against gravel makes my breath hitch. I turn to see Spike stepping out of the shadows, his expression a storm cloud of anger.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, his tone low and dangerous.

I tighten my grip on the carrier strap and straighten my spine. “I’m leaving.”

His eyes narrow as he strides closer, his presence as commanding as ever. “The hell you are. Let’s get back inside before you get yourself sick. Thanks for the heads-up, Mike.”

I glance back at the guy at the gate, but he just flashes me a smug smile.

“See you later, little miss,” he says casually.

“Why does everyone insist on calling me little?” I grumble as Spike gently steers me back toward the building. “I outweigh most of you.”

Spike just grunts, not bothering to respond, as he leads me inside and back to the room he took me to when I first arrived.

With a heavy sigh, I drop onto the couch, instantly feeling some of the tension leave my body. I couldn’t relax in the other room, but I guess I just needed to clear my head.

Yeah, right.

“Want to tell me what you were thinking, babe?” Spike’s deep voice pulls my attention. He’s leaning against the desk, his arms crossed, his eyes locked on me.

“Oh, um,” I start, stalling.

“Don’t lie,” he growls, the command in his voice making me freeze.

Dang it. Why does he have to be so intimidating?

“I heard some of your men talking outside the room I was in,” I admit reluctantly. “They were saying how I’m putting everyone here at risk. They sounded angry that you didn’t just tell me to leave. I don’t want that, Spike. I don’t want to be the reason Chuck finally finds a way to toss you in prison, and I don’t want to cause problems between you and your friends.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. Something he seems to do a lot. “Did you see them? Catch the names on their cuts?”

“Cuts?” I blink at him, confused.

He gestures to the patch on his black leather vest that readsSpike, withPresidentstitched above it.

“That’s called a cut?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “Weird.”

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