Page 8 of Sentinel

My protective instincts are always on high alert with this mystery woman, and I don’t know why. But my instincts are never wrong. And I’m about to get some damn answers, that’s for sure.

I roll my neck, trying to release some of the stress and tension I’ve built up over the last three days. Scanning the room as I head for the bar, my eyes land on their intended target, his shoulders flexing as he nurses a beer. Metal legs scrape across the worn, wooden floor as I drag the stool back and take a seat next to my brother.

“Tell me what I need to know.” Maverick tips his head in my direction but doesn’t answer me. “Well?”

“Good to see you too, brother. Yeah, I've been doing alright. Thanks for fucking asking.” He gives me a smart-ass look, and I know he’s annoyed that I cut straight to the chase. Maverick and I go as far back as Venom and I do. Plus, we’ve seen a lot of bullshit together over the years as Disciples. We’re as close as real blood, and that deserves a better greeting than the one I just gave him. But nothing will calm this fire burning in me right now, not until I learn more about the girl I can’t seem to get out of my head.

I turn my body to face him, letting him see the tension brewing behind my eyes. I don’t break my stare as I silently convey the significance of the information he’s still holding back.

“Fuck, Sentinel, who is she to you?” His curiosity is piqued as his eyes narrow at me.

“Mine. That’s all you need to know.”

“So, you’re fucking her, then?” There’s no malice in his voice, but I don’t like his damn insinuation.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” I growl my warning at Maverick, even though he’s one of my oldest friends. Then again, he’s about to be my dead fucking friend in a minute with questions like that.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he says, with the hint of a smirk on his face.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Nothing, man. Nothing.” He grips my shoulder as he shakes his head with a full-on smile. I’m not sure what the hell he’s talking about, but right now, I don’t give a flying fuck either. He has three seconds to start telling me about Sarah before I go fucking apeshit.

“Well, I can tell you… your girl is smart. Picking a generic name like Sarah Smith.”

“What do you meanpicking a name?” I give Maverick an inquiring look.

“The fake ID she gave you was a damn good one. Someone knew what they were doing when they made that shit, and I know it wasn’t cheap. On top of that, she chose a name we’d have trouble tracking down easily.”

“Yeah, I knew something didn’t seem quite right when I first saw her.”

“Too bad she wasn’t expecting someone like me to lift her prints and run ‘em through the system.” A sly grin spreads across Maverick’s face. He wouldn’t be the club hacker if he couldn’t break into identification systems from time to time. “Turns out, her thumbprint is on file in California, where she applied for a driver’s license.”

“California? She has a license in California, not Texas?”

“Yeah, man. Because Sarah Smith… is really Emma Williams from Bay City.”

“Then what the fuck is she doing here?” I’m asking myself more than I’m asking Maverick, but he answers me anyway.

“I don’t know, man, but there’s more.” He hesitates and reaches for his beer, taking a long pull before swallowing loudly. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was buying time.

“Well, let’s hear it, Mav. Say what you need to say.”

“You ain’t gonna like this next bit. But just remember: I only find the information, I don’t create it.” He raises his palms in surrender. I cross my muscular arms over my chest, indicating my impatience.

In turn, he gives me a look that offers the preamble his mouth doesn’t—don’t say I didn’t warn you—before verbally telling me, “It just so happens that…Emma…” He speaks her name with emphasis. “…is engaged.”

Well, that damn sure wasn’t what I thought he was gonna say.

My initial reaction is rage. Rage at some motherfucker who got to her first. Who had his hands on her before me. Who claimed her body before I could. But then logic takes over, and I remember she’s here.And not there.She ran, and she ran for a reason.

I’ve seen her and touched her. Kissed her and held her, even if only briefly. There was no ring on her finger. And she moved into her apartment in the middle of the night, alone, while constantly looking over her fucking shoulder. As if she feared someone coming after her.

Shemay have beenengaged (because she definitely isn’t now) but I can tell that girl’s scared of something. Or someone. And when I told her I would never hurt her, she flinched. Fucking flinched. As if caught up in a memory. I’d bet money it was her fucking ex-fiancé who hurt her too.

I’ll fucking kill him.

I’ve heard enough. I need to get to Sarah—fuck,Emma—and sort this shit out. She can run from her ex, but she can’t run from me.

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