Page 21 of Catching His Runaway

Having been afraid to look at him since admitting the last bit, I can see his face is unreadable. Colder than usual. He looks angry. Then again, he always does.

We walk around the estate until my legs tire. Between, he doesn’t demand the gross details of the torture, and I don’t give them. He lets me spill more than I originally planned, and doesn’t stop me once I start.

Forget interrogating me, I’m giving him all the information he needs.

“Once everything was said and done, he made it very clear that I’d get the same punishment if I didn’t earn his money back.” Taking a brief break, I rest against the linked fence. “I guess he watched me more than I realized. He even complimented me on my talents and luck.”

Hard to appreciate the words while he had a blade to my throat while painting my skin with Ted’s blood.

“A hundred grand.” Shaking his head, he crosses his arms over his chest. Revealing that he knows more than I thought, he squints ahead. “He must’ve had hopes for you in the future, because most would’ve killed you on the spot.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”Shivering, I notice the way he glares ahead. “One bad bet rolled into another, and I thought I could save myself. Can’t say I’m a fan of losing. Makes it hard to focus.”

The debt snowballed until I couldn’t reverse my actions. Then Elijah had to remind me of my place, and that went as expected.

“And instead of playing along, you ran.” He speaks my thoughts just as they cross my mind. When I nod, he sighs. “This is why Leon ordered me to watch you. You just drew in the worst crowd. Like a magnet to scum.”

Of course, he’d find the opportunity to take a jab at me while I’m vulnerable.

Narrowing my eyes at him, my lips flatten into a line. “Must be why you’ve stuck so close, huh?”

Instead of taking my shot with a growl, the corners of his eyes wrinkle, and his mouth twitches. For a brief moment, I see an emotion ripple across his face. Amusement? No, my eyes must be playing a trick on me.

Otherwise, I might get a glimpse of the guy I left behind.

“I wanted to ask you to come with me, you know?” I admit softly as my eyes drift down to the blades of grass squashed between his boots. Sure, my reasoning would’ve been completely greedy, and so far left field he wouldn’t have come if I told him the truth. Old feelings aside, I knew he would’ve kept me safe.

He could’ve saved his pinkies by following me out of this state. I didn’t have the courage to leave myself. Instead, I just moved to the other side of it. If he’d tagged along, maybe he wouldn’t have become the man he is today.

He doesn’t reply, but I feel his eyes. I’m forced to look back up when he takes a step forward. Before I get the chance to decipher his unreadable expression, he’s suddenly in front of me. Hands out, his fingers tangle in the fence at my sides. “You never hinted at your escape. Why didn’t you ask?”

How many times has he run thewhysandhowsthrough his head after I left?

“You wouldn’t have said yes. If I’d asked, you would’ve shot me down in a heartbeat. Even worse, you would’ve put the pieces together far too easily and wouldn’t have lowered your guard.”

It’s the truth. I played him like a fool when I was younger. He should’ve been suspicious when I stopped trying to put up a fight, when I stopped making him chase after me. All I needed was one night where he didn’t feel like he needed to guard my door or my window. When that night came, I took it. I ran and never looked back.

“You haven’t changed, then.” He takes one more impossible step forward, and I’m trapped.

For once, escape isn’t the first thing on my mind. I’m too distracted by what is happening behind his eyes as he stares down at me. Feeling his chest brush against mine as he inhales deeply, his entire front rumbles. It’s like he enjoys what he smells. Though if that were the case, why does he look so angry about it?

“What do you mean?” The words come out a little shaky, but unlike before, fear isn’t what’s guiding my words. He’s been acting more and more strangely as each day passes. Like he’s purposely pushing the exact buttons to make my heart race and body react to him, this is no different from any of the other times he’s invaded my personal bubble.

Something about this feels different. I’m not worried about what he’ll do, I’m too busy clinging to what I think he won’t do.

With him this close…

My heart pounds in my chest as my eyes run up the front of his shirt and past the ink on his throat. His beard, less well-groomed than the others, attempts to hide his lips. However, once I see them, I’m locked in on them.

“You’re trying to get me to let my guard down,” he explains, agitation weighing behind each word. “This method of yours will not work.”

While I don’t have a clue what he’s talking about, I can’t help but notice how his voice wavers. It’s so subtle, I almost miss it. Even more, he lowers his gaze, and I can see it. His frustrations and the lies he’s trying to tell to keep them hidden.

He thinks I’m trying to use my body to get under his skin?

Telling myself to laugh at such a ridiculous idea, the words don’t form. Not the ones that should. Instead, I lift my hand and touch his chest. His muscles flex and twitch beneath my fingertips. “I don’t believe you.”

I shouldn’t play into this idea. He already has a strong opinion of me. I shouldn’t want to add anything else, like describe me as a wanton woman, to his list.

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