Page 10 of Hunted

“Was what you gave the police was enough to have him arrested?”

“Yeah. Mike was convicted on multiple drug charges along with grand theft auto, so I mistakenly thought I was in the clear. I filed for divorce while he was in prison, which really pissed him off. I’d planned to save up my money and move to a different town—maybe a different state—before he was released. But then he got out early on good behavior.” She scoffed, not able to imagine the man she’d known being a model inmate.

“You should have been notified of that.”

“I think the letter must have gone to my old address. I had no idea he was on the streets again until I caught sight of him a fewdays ago. That’s when I decided I needed a gun. To keep me and Thomas safe. I could try for a restraining order, I guess, but like I said, I don’t think it would help. It’s just a piece of paper. It’s not going to stand up against Mike’s violent tendencies.”

Her mother had petitioned the courts for a restraining order against her father when she was little. It hadn’t stopped him from kicking their house door down and shoving her mother’s head through a wall. She shuddered at the memory of that horrible night. The cops had come and taken her father away, but the lesson she’d learned was that they’d been unable to stop the attack. She feared the same situation happening to her. It was why she needed that gun. She’d just have to be tough enough to pull the trigger if needed.

“You’ve been through a lot, Leila.” Clint exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry.” Clint slowed for a red light and looked over at her. “I’ve got to ask. Where is your family in all this?”

“My parents split up when I was eight. I have no idea where he is anymore, and I don’t want to. I have a brother, but he lives in New York City. And my mother was here in Vegas until recently, but now she’s back in Puerto Rico now to take care of my grandmother. She’s been asking me to move down there too, but I thought Thomas would have a better life here. I may have been wrong about that. I don’t know.” There were so many things she didn’t know and so many mistakes she’d made. She felt the burden of having to fix those now so her son could have the future he deserved. “I’ll understand if you don’t want anything to do with this mess now that you know the nasty details. You can just drop me off at the day care center, and I’ll get an Uber from there.”

“And then what, Leila? Keep looking over your shoulder until Mike comes after you? Until he hurts you again or hurtsThomas.?” He shook his head. “No, I’m not letting you face this alone.” The light turned green, and he accelerated through the intersection. All she could think about was how grateful she was to his help and how comforting it was to have someone—havehim—in her corner.

“Guys like Mike didn’t give up easily,” she said quietly. She’d noticed that Clint kept glancing in the rearview mirror. She was doing the same in the side mirror of his truck, paranoid she’d find Mike or one of his friends following them. It was only a matter of time before her ex made another appearance.

“Understood.” Clint signaled and switched lanes to turn onto the day care’s street. He turned into the lot and pulled up to the curb by the front door, shifting the transmission into Park before looking at her. “I’m glad you walked into my gun shop yesterday. I hope you’re able to trust me because I promise you that I’ll keep you and your son safe.”

She only nodded, too overwhelmed to say anything else. She’d find a way to repay Clint for what he was doing. She wasn’t a taker by nature. She thought of herself as more of a doer, a survivor. But in this situation, she was in over her head and had to admit that. And while she may have had made so terrible choices in her twenty-five years, she didn’t think putting her faith in Clint was one of them. During her lunch, she’d done a little digging online about him. He didn’t seem to care much about social media—but there had been a news article after he’d taken over the shop, talking about his sterling military record and the commendations he’d received for courage and valor. He’d risked his own life to protect others in the direst of circumstances..

“I’ll be back in a minute.” She smiled at him.

“I’ll be waiting,” he said, returning her grin with one of his own. She ignored the tingle in her knees that it caused. Clint hiked his chin toward the entrance of the day care. “Now get inside and get that adorable kid so we can get back to my place and settle in for the night.”

She slipped out of his truck and went up the sidewalk to the center’s door. When she glanced back as she reached it, Clint’s eyes were on her, watching out for her. His gaze was protective, but she saw something more in it. Interest in her as a woman. She couldn’t let that figure into their relationship. She’d keep her head in the game and her heart out of the equation—no matter how attractive she found Clint—and when this was over, she’d walk away from him with gratitude and a better future to look forward to, once Mike was out of the picture.

6

“Here we are,” Clint said a few hours later as he flipped on the lights in his modest three-bedroom, one-story ranch home. He lived in Sunrise Manor on the outskirts of Vegas—a safe, quiet, blue-collar neighborhood located close to his firing range. He wasn’t sure what kind of accommodations Leila was used to. When he’d taken her to her apartment so she could grab somethings for herself and Thomas, he’d been too busy guarding the hallway to take much notice of her living quarters, so he felt a bit nervous. He didn’t have people back to his house often. “Sorry, I didn’t really have a chance to clean beforehand, so…”

She walked past him into the great room and looked around the beige and white space, her expression unreadable. He put down the box with the portable crib they’d bought at the superstore up the road. He went back outside to grab more bags and kid stuff.

“This is really nice,” she said, glancing sideways at him when he returned. “Very modern and spacious.”

“Thanks.” He kept his place organized and neat, another remnant from his military days. And while some people wouldconsider it plain, without a lot of mementos or knickknacks sitting around, that was the way Clint preferred it. He didn’t need stuff. He’d learned early on in foster care that it was easier to keep his belongings to a minimum. It lessened the chance of something getting left behind when he had to leave a placement without much—if any—warning. He’d kept a few things, though, from those days.

“Um…where should I put our things at?” she asked and he realized she was still standing there, holding Thomas and staring at him. Somehow, she looked right in his living room. The neutral background showcased the vibrancy of her coloring.

He cleared his throat, uncomfortable heat prickling up from beneath the collar of his T-shirt. Having this woman and her kid under his roof, under his protection, was doing funny things to him. He tried to dismiss it as just the responsibility he’d taken on, but if he was honest with himself, he cared about her and her boy.

It was all too quick and made no sense whatsoever. It went against everything in his loner MO.

Yet, he couldn’t stop how he felt.

Clint shook off the tension knotting the muscles between his shoulder blades and turned to head down the hall to his right. “The guest rooms are this way, though I use one as an office. You can set Thomas up in there if you like or keep him in the room with you.”

“He can stay with me for now, since we won’t be here long,” Leila said, following him into the larger guest room on the left. It was sparsely furnished—a dresser he’d refinished, a queen-sizedbed covered with a navy-blue spread, and a small nightstand. Nothing fancy. “This is great. Thanks again for taking us in.”

“No problem.” He set the bags on the floor, then stepped back toward the doorway. “I’ll, uh, let you get settled while I start dinner. Are steaks on the grill okay?”

“Perfect. I haven’t had a good home-cooked steak since my mom left. Medium well for me.” She smiled and set Thomas on his feet. He immediately started exploring the room. “If you wouldn’t mind opening that bag on the left, there’s a grocery sack of food and snacks for Thomas I brought from home. Since you’re headed to the kitchen, could you stick them in your fridge for me?”

“Sure thing.” He did as she asked him, unzipping the black duffle bag on the floor, doing his best not to notice the lacy underthings that brushed against his fingertips when he reached inside the bag. He pulled out the plastic sack then stepped back again, wondering how it had gotten so hot in there. He’d caught a whiff of her perfume wafting off the things she’d packed—cinnamon and sweet soap—and his pulse quickened without his consent. Perhaps inviting her to stay with him hadn’t been such a wise idea, considering his crazy reactions to her. Too late now though, as he watched her talking and laughing with Thomas as she put her things away. “Uh, I’ll go get dinner ready now. After dinner, we can…um…put that crib together, eh? Good times.”

Shit. He sounded like an idiot.

“Okay.” She took her eyes off what Thomas was doing for a second and grinned at him. He suddenly felt like he’d been struck over the head with a happy stick. Ridiculous, really, since he knew relationships weren’t for him. They didn’t last. He’dlearned that lesson early on, courtesy of his parents’ deaths when he was six. People came and went. It was a fact.

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