Page 16 of Taken By the Outlaw

"Because of the diamonds?"

I glance at her sharply. "What do you know about the diamonds?"

She gives me a look that makes me feel strangely chastised. "I was there, remember? I saw what you took from the jewelry store."

Right. Of course she did. It's why she's here in the first place, why I've turned my life upside down keeping her. I sometimes forget that part, too caught up in what's developed between us since.

"Yes," I confirm. "They want what we took."

She nods, processing this. "And if they come here...there will be violence?"

The clinical way she phrases it almost makes me smile. "That's usually how these things go."

"I see." She places her book carefully on the bedside table, then turns to face me fully. "What do you need me to do?"

The question takes me by surprise. I expected panic, protests, maybe tears. Not this calm acceptance, this offer of assistance.

"Stay here," I tell her. "Stay out of sight. If things go bad—" I cross to the closet, pulling out a small handgun from a hidden compartment. "You know how to use this?"

She stares at the weapon, throat working as she swallows. "No."

"Simple enough." I check that the safety is on, then approach her slowly, not wanting to frighten her more. "Safety here. Point and pull the trigger. Only as a last resort, understand? Only if someone other than me comes through that door."

Her hands shake slightly as she takes the gun, holding it awkwardly. "I don't think I could?—"

"You could," I interrupt, certain of it. "If it meant survival, you could."

She looks up at me, something vulnerable and trusting in her gaze that makes my chest ache. "Will it come to that?"

"No." I take her face between my hands, needing her to believe me. "I won't let it. No one will touch you, Emilia. No one but me."

The possessiveness in my voice should frighten her. Instead, I watch as her pupils dilate, her breath catching. She's responding to it—to the claim I'm staking, to the protection I'm offering.

"I should be trying to escape," she whispers, almost to herself. "I should be hoping your enemies break in and create a distraction so I can run."

"But you're not," I state, seeing the truth in her eyes.

"No." Her confession is barely audible. "I'm afraid for you. How twisted is that?"

I laugh softly, the sound rusty and unfamiliar. "About as twisted as me keeping you prisoner and then giving you a gun."

A small smile curves her lips, and the sight of it hits me like a physical blow. Even in this moment of danger, of uncertainty, she can smile. Because of me. For me.

I lean down, pressing my forehead to hers, breathing her in. "This isn't how I planned to spend our second night together."

"You planned a second night?" There's something in her voice—hope, maybe. Desire, certainly.

"I planned every night," I admit, the truth dragged from somewhere deep. "From the moment I saw you in that alley, something inside me knew. You were meant to be mine."

Her eyes widen, searching mine for deception, for manipulation. She won't find any. I've never been more honest about anything in my life.

"I need to go," I say reluctantly, pulling back. "The crew needs me out there. But I'll be back, and I need you to be exactly where I left you. Understand?"

She nods, still holding the gun awkwardly.

"Under the bed," I instruct. "If you hear fighting. And only use that if you have no choice."

"Be careful," she says, and the genuine concern in her voice wraps around my heart like a fist.

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