Page 69 of Entangled

She gives me a hard look, glancing at Heather for approval, then nods. “A few rifles. Some semi-auto, a few auto. A couple pistols. Jennifer’s bringing them.”

I shake my head, gritting my teeth, and snap my gaze back to Heather. “It’s not enough. You might as well bundle them up for Cyanide now.”

Wrecked with this unaccountable rage, I’m about to hit her with more when I feel a gentle hand on my forearm.

“What?” I snap, and my head whips around to see Eden, tense-faced and hesitant at my side.

And I instantly feel like an asshole.

“What is it?” I ask again, and it takes less effort than I thought it would to make my voice soft.

She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and she glances at the Sinners, then around the cave.

“I think it might be better if you both had this conversation in private,” she says in a low, disapproving voice. “You’re frightening people.”

I track her glance and see the pale, anxious faces.

Shit.

Guilt and self-reproach hit my stomach like an anvil. Of course I am. Panic pricks me. I shouldn’t be around people like this—they’re too soft, and I’m too hard. I was made for military bases and rapid deployments. I don’t know how to do this.

I look at Heather, and she grimaces.

“Back cave,” she says again to Sloane, then she blows out a breath and looks at me. “You and your men come too. And we’lltalk.”

There’s a warning in that, and I force a smile, hoping the civilians see it.

“Fine. We’ll talk.” I raise my voice pointedly, smiling as wide as I can, though it really doesn’t seem to fit my cheeks. “Everything is fine. Everyone can relax.”

Nobody seems to relax.

I let the smile go, my frustration ratcheting up further. Why am I so bad at this? Less than a day, and I’ve already scared the shit out of a bunch of innocent women. I need to get away from these civilians. Now.

Angry with myself, I nod to Jasper, Jayk, and Bentley, and we follow after Heather, the armed women, and the prisoners. After a moment, Heather turns, halting us.

I follow her look back.

Eden lingers behind, watching after us with her hands clenched in her shirt.

“You coming?” Heather calls to her.

I frown. Heather is trigger-happy at the best of times, and this is bound to be ugly. Eden isn’t like her—used to violence and bloodshed. She deserves to be sheltered from the worst of this. She doesn’t need Heather bullying her if she wants to rest.

Eden walks up slowly, eyeing me questioningly.

“Don’t do that,” Heather says. “Don’t ask for permission. You have as much right as he does to be included in this.”

My tongue presses against my teeth until I can control my annoyance. “She’s been through enough. Stop pushing her.”

Heather shakes her head. “No. You don’t know what she’s been through. You don’t know what she can handle.”

“I know better than most,” I say impatiently. “She saved my life.”

“She saved mine too,” Heather snaps back. “Think about that. Maybe you should stop underestimating her.”

“I would appreciate it if you stopped speaking for me,” Eden says mildly, pausing in front of us. “Bothof you.”

I blink, then look at her. She has bruises all over her face, and her wrists look torn up. I want to clean them and wrap them up myself.

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