Page 18 of Protecting Peyton

I hadn’t seen this change of subject coming. “You got my watch and money back. What’s the point?”

He glanced over at me for a second. “You strike me as a very caring person?—”

I cut him off. “Stop trying to be nice to me. You promised you wouldn’t hit on me again.”

“Go back on a promise? Never. I was going to ask why you wanted tolet those two dirtbags get away with it so they could go on to prey on other women? That’s not what a caring person would do. Now, is that mean enough for you?”

This wasn’t fair. My head hurt, and I hadn’t prepared to answer these kinds of attacks.

“And this isn’t the first time,” he continued. “When the police came by SpaceMasters, you also made yourself scarce. So what’s the problem? Are you wanted for some crime?”

I’d worked up an answer during his litany of accusations and now let it fly. “They killed my boyfriend, okay?” It was a lie, but it sounded heartfelt and would put an end to his questions.

Silence.

But once again, his hand ventured over the console.

It would have been out of character to not accept the gesture, so I took his hand and felt that zing again. His hand wasn’t soft, but it was warm, and when I closed my eyes, the contact soothed me.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “What happened?”

Ugh.I was wrong about my response cutting off the line of questioning. “The Atlanta PD pulled him over. They say he got belligerent when they told him to get out of the car and tried to take one of their guns. They shot him dead.”

March squeezed my hand.

I looked over, emphasizing my words. “He had so much to live for, and they shot him dead. So, I stay as far from cops as I can. I don’t trust them. I don’t want anything to do with those… those…” I didn’t add the swear word that was on the tip of my tongue.

He rubbed gentle circles on my hand. “I’m sorry.”

“My boyfriend would never have pulled a stunt like that. Never.”

“What was his name?”

I drew a blank, until my eyes caught the street sign we passed. “Lloyd.”

March didn’t pull his hand away.

I didn’t pull away either. Holding hands with him felt too good. It was something I hadn’t allowed myself since I left. I justified breaking the rules by telling myself a grieving person would welcome the solace of touch and not reject it.

March hit a button on the steering wheel. “Call Lucas.”

“Hey,” Lucas answered. “Cobra said Peyton is okay, but he didn’t have the details.”

March glanced my way. “Better. Mild concussion. I retrieved hermoney and watch, but not the purse. I’ll be staying with her for the time being.”

“For one day,” I corrected.

“Glad to hear it wasn’t anything worse, Peyton,” Lucas said. “Make it two days. Getting hit on the head can have complications.”

“I already promised the doc forty-eight hours,” March said. “So I’m on it.”

“Then send Constance over,” I countered.

“Zane will take care of you,” Lucas insisted.

So much for my request. I tried again. “He doesn’t need to bother.”

Lucas sighed audibly. “Peyton, I must insist. You are important to Grace, and she’s part of the Hawk family. So you’re important to us, and until the threat profile changes, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”