Page 15 of Hunted Hearts
“You took the wrong pills.”
“I just said that.”
Without warning, he crossed the room in swift strides. He yanked her suitcase off the floor and spun to slam it on a small table. The abrupt explosion had her leaping to her feet and rushing to his side.
“What are you doing?” Her voice wobbled.
He ripped open her suitcase and began tearing through her things. He tossed clothing in all directions and tore into her toiletry bag, dumping the contents. Her travel-sized shampoobottle hit the floor and rolled away, along with several tampons, leaving her cheeks burning.
He snatched up another bag, perfectly packed thanks to her assistant, and flipped open the small catch holding it shut. “Hand me a tissue.” His voice was dead calm, but its undercurrent sizzled with a threat only he seemed to see.
She didn’t move to follow his command, so he turned his head and pierced her in his gray gaze. His eyes had darker gray starbursts in each center, spiking around his pupils.
“Please, Juliette.”
The “please” set her in motion. She hurried to the bathroom and pulled three tissues out of the holder. When she returned, he had her supplements dumped out in the bottom of her suitcase.
Without glancing at her, he took a tissue from her and used it to pluck the case of pills from the pile like it was evidence in a crime scene.
“Are these the supplements?”
“Yes! I could have just handed them to you.” Her favorite silk robe was on the floor, and bottles of skin serum rested under the table.
Having someone bust into her life and scatter it everywhere felt like a terrible violation.
“People don’t treat me this way!”
He didn’t respond in any way to her outburst, just grabbed a small black backpack she could only guess held his gear. In seconds, he had small plastic bags in hand and carried them back to her suitcase.
She gulped against the fear bubbling in her throat and watched in silence as he picked up every container of pills with a tissue and placed them each in individual baggies.
“I need those,” she protested. “I have a performance in two days!”
He grunted as he sealed them up. “I’ll get you something better.”
When he turned, fixing his attention on her violin case, panic rattled up her spine.
Her heart skipped. “No!”
He didn’t stop.
She bolted, throwing herself between him and the precious instrument, her hand protectively settled on top of it. Tilting her head, she glared at him.“No.”
“I just need to look at it.”
“I’m drawing a line.” She tipped her jaw up a notch. This man didn’t know how far she would go to keep him from putting a single callused finger on her instrument, but she was willing to show him.
His eyes blazed down at her. “I see no line.”
“It’s there—trust me.”
He held her stare, his own flickering with heat and challenge…and maybe admiration?
“Would you mind holding it up so I can examine it or do I need to show you my clearances first?”
He had clearances? Of course he did. The man protected presidents.
A tiny sliver of awareness slipped low in her belly.
