Page 52 of Dirty Gambit

She was worse than Travis. Worse than the people who had snatched her from her home and forced her away from the people who loved her. She had taken Jessie from a family that cared about her, sure, to keep her safe, but what if she had inadvertently drawn Travis straight to her by trying to protect her? She could have taken the file he’d had of Jessie, the one he hadn’t even seen yet, and burned it. He may never have seen it. He may have forgotten all about it. There were so many other possibilities, so many other outcomes, so many other ways for everything to have gone wrong.

“I was just trying to protect her,” she murmured out loud, mostly to herself. “I only made it worse.” Shutting her eyes, she turned forward once more.

“What’s going on?” Jaxon’s quiet question broke into her reverie. It made her open her eyes and stare at the road winding up ahead. “Talk to me, Lena,” he begged gently. “Let me help you.”

Lena scoffed. “You can’t help me. No one can.”

Any other time, any other person, such defeat would have irritated her. She’d survived worse, she’d tell them. She could do this, she’d say. But she wasn’t able to fool herself. Not this time. She had fucked up royally and there was no changing that fact.

“Who’s Travis?”

The sound of that name on Jaxon’s lips sent all her thoughts spiraling. Her head whipped in his direction, wrenching the bones in her neck until they cracked beneath the force. She stared at him, horror and disbelief momentarily stealing all her words and senses.

“What did you say?” she breathed at last, finding her voice buried somewhere deep inside her. It popped out in a raspy croak that left no room in either of their minds of her fears. “How do you know—?”

Jaxon reached into the pocket of his wrinkled trousers and withdrew her letter. It was crumpled and torn down one whole side rather than across the top. His name, written in her penmanship winked back at her from between his fingers, mocking her for her stupidity.

“You read it?” Outrage quickly stole her shock and Lena made to snatch the thing from him.

He was quicker. He jerked his arm away and, in the same motion, returned it to his pocket.

“It had my name on it,” he reminded her simply.

Lena gritted her teeth, willing her temper to control itself long enough to stop before she hit him. “If you read it, then you already know the answer,” she replied tightly.

“I want to hear it from you,” he said, making her stare at him in disgust.

“Why?” she retorted, slumping back in her seat. “Did I use too many big words?”

He rolled his eyes. “I know what you’re doing.” He didn’t wait for her to ask him what he meant when he continued. “You’re hoping if you’re rude enough, I’ll get angry and not ask you questions.” He missed the tight twist of her lips sealing together, too busy pretending to understand her. “Well, it’s not going to work. For one, I know your games. For another, it’s too late to take back everything you already said.”

She knew she should tell him. It was pointless not to when he’d already read it in her letter, a gesture she regretted making now that she’d failed plan B.

“You asked me to watch over Jessie. How can I do that if you’re not honest with me?” he pressed when she was still for too long.

“And who’s going to watch over you?” she snapped, turning her chin in his direction. “Who is going to protect you, Jaxon? Do you think I can just let…” she cut herself off, not sure where she was going with her sentence, too terrified to finish.

“I can watch over myself,” he murmured. “I’ve been doing a pretty good job of it for the last twenty-seven years.”

Lena blew out a groaning exhale and scrubbed a palm over her face. “Not from him.” She let her hand drop into her lap. “You can’t stop him.” She raised her eyes to his beautiful face. “He’ll kill you and it would be my fault. I brought him to you, to your family, to … Jessie. I fucked everything.” Hot tears blurred his features. “The only way I can make it right is if I give myself up or give myself to Travis.”

“No!” The sharp growl made her jump. “Over my dead body.”

Without allowing her to argue, he stomped on the gas and propelled them back on the road.

There wasn’t another soul on the road. Even the miles behind them lay empty, except for the cloud of dust forming a heavy curtain between them and everything they were leaving behind. Ahead, the world was dimming on the other side of the treetops, the first glimpses of dusk.

“Are you hungry?”

Lena shook her head without taking her eyes off the scene ahead.

“You have to be,” he pressed. “You haven’t eaten since...” he broke off, visibly attempting to do the math.

“Why does it matter?” she muttered.

“It matters,” he said.

“Don’t be nice to me,” she pleaded, weary exhaustion weighing her words.

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