“Not intentionally. But Annie is a member, and I guess Zoey let it slip at some point. Annie saw what happened…” he trails off. “I don’t live far from here.” He pauses and his eyes roam over my face. “Why did you taunt him?” he asks, his dark eyes watching mine.Knowing.I could lie to anyone else but him, but he knows. He was there. He saw what I used to do to men at the bars; he of all people knows how reckless I can be sometimes.
“I got angry,” I explain, shrugging. “He touched me, and his hands, his voice…” I look away.
Do I really have to explain myself?
“We should go. I don’t know if there are more of them.”
We weave through the small clusters of people, brushing up against bodies as we attempt to move quickly. He stops to help me, his arm around my waist. I ignore the heat blistering against my already flushed skin. We exit the bar, and a blast of cold air hits my face.
“What about Zoey?” I ask, hesitating.
“Hayes has her in the car already. Along with your bags.”
I don’t ask questions. I spot a large, black SUV waiting for us right outside. Opening the door for me, I climb in only to have Zoey maul me.
“I have no idea what’s going on,” she laughs, her voice slurred and loud. Giggling, she collapses against the seat. “Fuck, I’m sloshed.”
“Sloshed is an understatement,” Hayes mutters from the other side of the car, his eyes on the bright screen of his phone. I sit next to Zoey as Benedict climbs into the other side next to Hayes, facing us in the expansive interior. My purse is on the seat next to me.
“I was having fun,” Zoey says, pouting. I can smell the liquor on her.
“You’re a fucking target,” Hayes mumbles under his breath. He’s still on his phone.
Her eyes snap to his. “Oh, piss off, you tosser.”
I stifle a laugh, and Hayes slowly raises his head to look at her. Damn, he’s attractive—sculpted cheekbones, full lips, messy hair that’s shorter on the sides, and crystal blue eyes. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s built like a fucking machine—bulging biceps, thighs that strain against his pants, and the biggest hands I’ve ever seen. I’m both scared and excited for Zoey to see this all play out.
“You don’t want to see what I can toss, princess.”
When I glance at Zoey, her face is flushed, and she’s glaring out the window. Hayes chuckles and looks at his phone, spreading his legs wider.
“Please give me your phone, Evelyn,” Benedict says, his voice commanding. “Yours too, Ms. Hawthorne.”
Zoey’s brown eyes widen, and she sways in her seat. “Why?”
Hayes leans forward, his face inches from Zoey. “Do you always ask this many questions?”
She glares at him with a look of repugnance on her face. “Arsehole.”
Benedict leans forward. “I’m going to place a tracker on your phone. Do I have your consent?” Benedict asks. His eyes watch me through thick, dark lashes. His skin is glowing with an orange tint from the lights on the street outside. Here, this close to him, I can smell the mint on his breath, and the way his lips are perfectly pouty and plump. He looks worried—his foot hasn’t stopped tapping the floor of the SUV since we left. He continues. “For your safety. Foroursafety.”
“Fine.”
I hand him my unlocked phone and he does something before handing it back a minute later. Maybe it’s stupid to give him access to my location, but Lily and Salem trust him enough to make him the godfather of their beloved daughter. That gives him some sort of trustworthiness by proxy. Also, we spent the first month after I was rescued together. Like soldiers in battle, we withstood it together. Perhaps I didn’t trust him fully, and perhaps I was angry with him, but he wasthere.
I put my phone away and look at my feet, trying to process what happened tonight. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him add a tracker to Zoey’s phone too.
“No one is going to touch you,” Benedict says quietly, low enough so that Hayes and Zoey don’t hear him. “I was there, Evelyn. I saw you that day, and I pulled you out of it. I would do it again in a heartbeat.”
“You’re very contradictory, you know. First, you tell me to go home. Then you come tomy flatand tell me to stay away. And then tonight, you save me, yet again? What am I not comprehending?”
He scowls and looks away. “I guess I can’t seem to stay away from you.” When the words leave his mouth, his eyes find mine in the dark car, and something passes between us.
I swallow. “What made you decide to save me that day?” I want to give him the benefit of the doubt, but for years I’d had this nauseating feeling that he did it for an entirely different reason than he wants me to believe.
He clears his throat. “You know the story. Lily told me everything over lunch and asked for my help—”
“No,” I interrupt. “Why did you want to save me? You didn’t know me.” He looks away, his eyes distracted. “You did it to cleanse your conscience. You did it because you wanted to atone for what your father did. You did it for yourself,” I hiss. I lean back and turn my head. Everything about him—about us—makes me angry. The fact that he feels like he owes me something. The fact that he will always pity me, always feel some sort of protective possessiveness towards me.
