Page 53 of Target Me
“I thought you gaveup the smokes.”
“Yeah, well. Crazy times, am I right?”
I couldn’t have agreed more.
19
AVERY
“You can’t be serious right now.” I was going to explode.
My eyes burned with tears I refused to let fall as Logan stared at me, stone faced with his hand on the car door, waiting patiently for me to get out of his truck. So he could leave. Without me.
His buddy, whatever his name was, stood inside the doorway of what looked like a very nice little bungalow, silently watching our confrontation play out on his front lawn.
“Avery, please be reasonable—”
“Don’t tell me to be reasonable, Logan. If you don’t want the job anymore, just quit. I’ll go home and protect myself. I’ve already proven I can do that.”
I was tired, irritable, and breaking apart from the inside out. I knew damn well he’d heard me last night, and he’d said nothing. Worse than nothing, he’d immediately decided to hand me off to one of his buddies. Jaw tight, I breathed through the tightness in my throat and tried to swallow insults I knew I’d regret. But I wanted him to hurt. Why couldn’t he feel a little of what was shredding my insides?
“Drive me home.”
Reaching into the car, he grasped my jaw in a grip just this side of painful. “You are not going home until I know for sure this threat is neutralized. Hate me if you need to, but I will do anything in my power to make sure you are safe.”
“Even if it means breaking my heart?” A tear slid free of my lashes, trailing over his thumb as I slammed my mouth closed. I didn’t mean to be that vulnerable with him. I knew better than giving others the power to hurt me.
Logan’s face dropped, his eyes softening into something closer to the man I’d seen last night, but the damage had been done. Pushing him out of the way, I jumped out of the truck, dashing my wrist across my eyes and striding across the lawn toward his friend. My steps faltered for a moment when I realized I’d met him before. The man from the mall. He gave me an understanding smile and moved back, making room for me to squeeze past him and into the house before Logan could catch up.
Stalling out in the kitchen, I sank into one of the stools that lined the small counter and tried to tune out the low buzz of male voices at the front door. A few minutes later, the guy—Damon, that was his name—strolled in.
“Logan said you might like a shower. I have some of Charlie’s clothes here—you’re about her size—if you’d like to put something clean on.”
A shower sounded perfect. Trying to force a smile onto a face that just wanted to scowl, I thanked him for the offer and followed him to the bathroom where he passed me fresh clothing and a towel before leaving me alone.
I cranked on the water, stripping out of my filthy clothing, and surveyed the bruises that had formed after my fight the night before. How was this my life?
Without bothering to adjust the temperature much past scalding hot, I stepped into the stream, scorching my skin in hopes I could burn off the last twenty-four hours. Hell, burn off every minute since I’d opened the stupid envelope that had inadvertently brought Logan into my life. I’d known from the start he’d seen me as a job, but somewhere along the way, it had begun to feel like more. On my side, at least.
The body wash smelled like milk and honey, and I wondered if it was another thing Charlie had left around Damon’s house. I couldn’t imagine the brawny soldier using cleansing milk to keep his skin silky and soft when he showered. Slicking the bubbles over my skin, I intentionally wiped my mind of all thoughts of Logan, but I couldn’t do anything about the ache he had left in me.
One day, when all of this was done, I’d take this emotion and put it into my art. I could create a collection about heartbreak and threats in the night. I could call itThe Target. No, that sounded impersonal. Maybe I’d call itTarget Me.
My skin was glowing a deep pink by the time I turned the shower off, towel drying my hair and body before I slipped into the clothes Damon had given me. I felt weird without any underwear, so I slipped my bra back on. My panties were stiff with a combination of my arousal and Logan’s cum, so I rinsed them in the sink before tucking them into my pocket.
I stepped out of the bathroom feeling timid. I didn’t know this man, and while I’d felt immediately comfortable with Logan, I’d been in my own space and convinced there were no monsters under my bed, just my paranoid father. Now I knew better. I found Damon lounging on the sofa, watching a football game on the television.
“Who’s your team?” he asked, nodding at the screen.
I shrugged. I’d struggled even recognizing the sport. Even under threat of death, I couldn’t have given him the name of a team, let alone one I liked.
“I’m more of an artsy kind of person,” I said, taking a seat as far from the man as possible.
“That’s right. You’re more into martial arts, aren’t you?”
I frowned, glancing over at him, but his eyes never left the game.
“How did you know that?”
