Page 5 of The Ruthless Guardian

Josiah leads me outside, one of his hands still gripping mine and the other over my shoulder. He helps me into his car, buckling my seatbelt and shutting the door for me before getting in on the driver’s side. "My place isn't far." He looks over at me, but I'm still crying too hard to see his face. The car lurches onto the street and I grab the arm rests, squeezing them tightly. "You need to breathe or you're going to pass out."

His calm voice sends my brain spiraling. He isn’t grasping the seriousness of what just happened. He doesn’t understand why I’m so scared, and I’m too freaked out to explain it. "I can't,” I say, panting for breath. “I can't. He found me! How did he… how did he-"

"You're making it worse,” Josiah says slowly, not accepting any of my anxiety into himself. This guy has to be the calmest person on Earth. “Take a deep breath."

"I. Can't!" My lungs refuse to inhale in any way other than fast and stuttering. I know I'm breathing so quickly that I'm getting lightheaded, but the more I think about it the worse it's getting.

"Listen to me, there's no one in this car but me and you, and I'm not going to hurt you. Are you going to hurt you?"

"No," I whine. I’m not going to hurt myself, but that doesn’t mean I can fucking breathe.

"Good. No one is following us. I've been watching. We're safe in the car, not being followed. Now the only threat to you is the way you're hyperventilating. How do we make it stop?"

"I don't know. I haven't… It hasn't been this bad... in years." Panicking about where to live next isn’t quite as gut-wrenching as panicking about never living anywhere ever again. I’m certain if Tony has found me, he’s not going to give up searching for me until he gets to me, and he’ll kill me- but only after he’s done inflicting even worse abuse on me.

"Tell me about your first day at work at BIBO. Was it easy?"

"Yes." I recognize that he’s trying to calm me down, but my breaths are coming so harsh and fast.

"What's your job there?"

"Hostess." My vision is getting blurrier even though the tears are slowing. It’s not working. What he’s doing isn’t having the desired effect, and the fear of losing consciousness is freaking me out even more.

"What do you do as a hostess?"

"Seat people," I answer, panting for breath. He was right. I’m going to pass out.

"Do you-"

Chapter Four

Skids

"Fuck!"

Phoebe passed out. Slowly, her body returns her breathing to normal since she's no longer awake to panic. My house is on the outskirts, set apart from everything else at the dead end of a dead-end road. It's not exactly hidden, but it doesn't need to be. No one's getting in here, and nobody comes this far down the road unless they’re coming here for me.

I unlock the gate and garage with the app on my phone. Phoebe is still out, so I carry her into the house and lay her on the couch. Pres handed me her bag before we left, so I dig through it for her phone and plug it into my system to check for malware or a tracking device. I can't find anything. Whoever ‘found’ her isn't using technology to stalk her as far as I can tell, but she was so scared of this person that she passed out, so obviously it's a legitimate threat.

I have to wait for her to wake up to know what I'm looking for otherwise, but while she's sleeping I check a few other things: social media, call history, background check. Her social networks are largely private, which I’m proud of, but she does have far too many things public on there.

The history on her phone doesn’t give me much insight. The only people she talks to have ABQ area codes. She doesn’t have anyone saved in her contacts list that appear to be parents, but maybe she has them saved under their first names. I wouldn’t know what names to look for because I’m suddenly aware that her parents’ info isn’t listed anywhere.

Her background check, when I looked at a few months ago for Pres to hire her at BIBO, didn’t raise any red flags originally, but now I’m seeing it through new eyes and something doesn’t add up. Previously I was just checking for anything that stuck out as odd, now that I’m digging deep into it everything appears a little fucking odd.

I can’t find anything about Phoebe Barnett other than what she needed me to see to get her job at BIBO. She has a job history and list of previous addresses. She received her diploma five years ago. I do remember checking into that and the location that did the testing does exist. They confirmed that she did in fact receive a diploma. But that’s it.

Who the hell is the girl on my couch? What could she possibly have gotten herself into? And where the fuck did she come from? She’s damn near a professional at evading whoever and whatever could have wanted to track her. So who the fuck is she and just what the fuck kind of creature was able to find her after all the work she obviously put into hiding herself?

Phoebe’s hair is the color of turquoise gems, and it looks perfect against her sun-tanned skin. As I'm watching her, taking in her appearance from the blue-green hair to her black boots, she starts to rouse. She wakes still panicked, sitting up immediately and slapping her hands on the couch. Her eyes swing around the room, checking for danger before settling on me. "It was real? Not a nightmare?"

"No, it was real. Tell me about who sent that to you."

Phoebe's eyelids close and her breathing speeds up again. "It's not real. He can't be- I need this to not be happening."

I need her to not start freaking out again. I need her to be conscious so she can tell me who I’m looking for. I crouch down in front of her and catch her gaze, holding her there with mine so she doesn’t disappear on me again. “He is real, but he can’t hurt you. He’s not going to get in here, and even if he had a chance in hell of that, he’d have to get through me first to get to you. Do you think he could do that?”

Her eyes fall to my shoulders, then down my muscular arms and thighs, before flicking back up to my face and she relaxes just the tiniest fraction. “No.”