Page 3 of Protect Me
But the jostling makes me whimper, and I hear a, “Take it fucking easy,” from the one called Kill; like he’s actually angry at his friend for furthering my pain.
“He’s just trying to fucking help,” the third puts in.
They banter in a grouchy yet easy sort of way, and I wonder if these men are more than co-workers. Family, maybe. Their familiarity, even in the way they fuss at one another, suggests they’re bonded somehow. The thought sends a pang through my already aching body. This one’s more of a hollow echo in my chest. A deep sort of longing mixed with the grief of loss—for a bond I’ll never have. That I can never afford to let myself look for.
I don’t complain again, mostly to keep them from changing their minds about harboring me. Instead, I focus on deep breathing that doesn’t sound like one of my lungs is drowning in its own fluids. Every inch of my skin hurts, but I also can’t help but notice how safe I feel as I’m carried by the front man of this security trio, no matter how grouchy he is about having to help me.
The three men continue grunting at one another while we walk, and I lose all sense of direction as we make a few turns down a series of halls.
Finally, we stop, and one of the men knocks sharply on a door.
From the other side, I hear, “Come in.”
I’m carried into a warm space that practically glows orange from a fire crackling in the large hearth. From this angle, I can’t see much else beyond the ceiling, but I can sense there are others present here.
“What the hell happened?” a female asks. She doesn’t wait for an answer before rushing over and looking down at me.
Through my swollen lids, I meet her eyes and find a surprisingly friendly face peering at me. Her near-white hair is pulled up in a messy bun, and her cheeks are slightly flushed, but she doesn’t flinch away from the sight of my battered body. Instead, her kind eyes flash with a fury that seems out of place on her otherwise soft face.
“What is this?” asks a gruff male voice from somewhere behind the woman.
“Found her outside,” one of my three rescuers says.
“Who did this?” the female demands.
“Liv, calm down,” the gruff male warns.
“D’s right,” says the man holding me.Duncan. “You can’t let yourself get worked up.”
“Do not start with me, Duncan,” she warns. Before he can answer, she leans in close to me and smiles. “I’m Liv. Can you tell me your name?”
“Helen,” I lie through a busted lip. It’s my mother’s name. I cannot let them know who I really am because the one hunting me has friends all over, even in No Man’s Land.
“Helen, can you tell me who did this to you?” she presses.
I don’t answer that. Instead, I say, “I’m looking for the Ringmaster.”
Liv smiles wryly. “Well, you’ve found him.” She nods toward the figure behind her. The gruff-voiced male straightens, and alarm spears through me.
Shit. The Ringmaster is here? Watching me get carried around like a rag doll?
I scramble, trying to free myself from the strong arms holding me, but they only tighten their grip.
“Put me down,” I insist.
“Not happening,” Duncan says.
“I am ordering you to put me down.” The words—and the bitchy tone I use to say them—completely exhaust me. But Duncan gives in and sets me on my feet.
I’m vaguely aware of Liv nodding to give him the order to do it, but I ignore that. Instead, I pretend it was all me and that Duncan gave in because of how scary I sounded. That feels better than this helplessness.
The minute Duncan lets me go, I wobble, knees buckling.
“Dammit.” Duncan is there immediately. But he doesn’t swoop in and grab me again. He only yanks a chair underneath me so that I sink into it rather than the floor.
He remains directly behind me, close enough for me to reach back and touch him if I wanted to. Which I don’t. The other two stand on my left, too far back for me to see their faces. Liv, the woman, takes the chair opposite mine. As she sits, I note the large, round belly she cradles with her hand.
My mind tries to put all the pieces together, including who all these people are to each other, but the pain is making it hard to think. Exhaustion doesn’t help.