Page 7 of Witness Protection

Now she only had Hawk.

Why did he even care about her now that his boss was dead? She’d expected him to run, to leave her to fend for herself. Had he really cared about her all these years or was he just doing his job? Sophia was terrible at reading people.

She’d had a secret crush on her father’s hired babysitter but didn’t think much of it since he didn’t reciprocate her feelings. He was eight years older, and he’d been around since she could remember. It had only been the past five years or so that he’d become a regular fixture in her life. Her father trusted him, but Hawk was nothing like Vasily.

He wasn’t a monster.

A few months ago, Hawk had agreed to be the subject for one of her paintings. It had taken almost a year of begging. He sat on a stool near her window, so the lighting was just right, looking too big and out of place in her feminine bedroom. She’d called the painting Dark Angel, but she never told him that. He was a mix of light and darkness, good and evil intertwined. His eyes were the color of caramel, his dark hair lightly brushed off his face. As she painted, she memorized the strong line of his jaw, the fullness of his lips, and the conflict in his eyes.

She was twenty-four.

A woman.

Sophia’s body reacted to the spicy scent of his cologne, and she couldn’t help but notice how his shirts pulled tight around his biceps. He worked out in the basement gym almost every day of the week, and his dedication showed. His shoulders were corded with muscle, his arms hard and toned. Sometimes she’d catch him coming up the stairs in just his gym shorts, and she’d pretend not to see. She noticed everything, and she still remembered.

Hawk was always strapped, and for some reason it made her hot. Sophia hated guns … or tired of them. Weapons and Hawk did crazy things to her libido. Her father would never entertain her having a relationship with any man, never mind one of his staff. He expected her to die a virgin, an old spinster who’d never known love.

Now she had no rules to follow … only her own.

Sophia left the bedroom and found Hawk lost in thought, sitting in a reclining chair facing the floor to ceiling windows. He stared off into space, still like a statue.

They were high up, higher than she’d ever been. She tentatively walked closer to the glass, a mix of fear and awe. From her vantage point, the city looked like a piece of art, the architecture and blue of the sky tempting her to capture it on canvas.

He must have heard her, turning his head in her direction. “You’re up.”

“Where are we?”

“Someplace safe.” The chair swiveled, and he faced her. “Are you hungry?”

She shrugged.

“There’re bagels and muffins on the counter. Picked them up this morning. I know you hate coffee, but there’s tea.”

Sophia wandered around the room, not sure what to think or feel. “Why am I here, Hawk?”

He narrowed his eyes, his head tilting to the side. “I’m keeping you safe.”

“From what?”

“You said that guy saw you. That means you’re a witness. It’s not safe to be home.”

“Why are you here?”

He stood up, the leather chair creaking. Hawk approached her, holding her arm so she paid attention to him. “What do you mean?”

She scoffed. “You’re out of a job, aren’t you? I mean, your boss is dead. You don’t have to babysit me anymore.”

“You think this is just a job? Vasily was like a father to me. He saved me. I owe him everything.”

Her father didn’t deserve to be a martyr. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“You’re his daughter. The last thing he told me was to protect you. That’s exactly what I plan to do, Sophia.”

“So I’m a prisoner here, just like I was at home?”

“I’m not following.”

She turned away from him, heading to the kitchen. “Never mind.”

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