I'm not ready for this.
Not ready for this discussion or the inevitable fight warring to break out between us. Ryker stands at my side, eyebrow raised, daring me to challenge him in front of the pair of guards. Despite the rage tearing through me, I'm in no position to argue.
"Nice to meet you," I mutter snidely.
Trenton Westhill is classically attractive. He's not much older than me, in his mid-20s, with neatly coiffed dark brunet hair. Matching eyes stare at me over a thin nose, a slight mustache and a cleft chin.
"It's nice to meet you as well, ma'am," he bows at the waist, bringing attention to his tall, lanky frame and unsymmetrical lips. The top is slightly thinner than the bottom and they're lightly bruised, as though he's been bitting them recently.
"Of course. Welcome to the team."
Chris Gatlin remains silent, peering bright blue eyes down at his younger colleague. He simply turns back to me and nods his head, bowing in a similar fashion before straightening his back. And my gosh, I have no business feeling this way for a man I just met.
Hubba, hubba.
At least four inches taller than Trenton, Chris is a mountain of a man. He's broad-shouldered with finely tailored muscles beneath his black t-shirt and dark wash jeans. Dark blond eyebrows, matching his slicked back hair, sit atop a pair of navy eyes, a straight nose and pouting pink lips. Chris is all male, sporting a full beard, a massive wrist watch, and a forbidding scowl.
I don't think I've ever been this wet.
"It's nice to meet you, Gatlin," I whisper, clearing my throat. Nervous, I glance down at my hands, remembering the paralysis with a grain of happiness. They don't betray the attraction simmering through me.
"We'd like to get back to work, Mr. Daniels."
My heart drops as he ignores me, not even bothering to respond.
"Of course," Ryker agrees. "Retake your posts outside of the room. Once I'm finished here, we'll meet in my office to finish our discussion regarding your duties."
Trenton winks, turning to follow Chris, who doesn't look at me again. His towering frame is nearly soundless as he walks, thick black boots seamlessly gliding over the floor. The attraction I feel dies instantly, cut off like chaff at his cold reception.
It's a brutal reminder: hotness doesn't equal kindness.
"What do you think?"
I sneer at Ryker. "What do you think I think?"
"They're for your protection, Blue. The way I see it—the more people between you and the threat, the longer you have to escape."
"Where did you even find these guys? They could be murders."
"They're not. They came highly recommended."
"From whom?" I ask, daring Ryker to name the person he'd trust to spill my predicament to. He pauses, glaring at me.
"Blue... it has been years since you were truly in danger and, consequentially, we became complacent. If you refuse to think of your safety beyond this augmentation, I'll do it for you."
"I hate this. I feel like a bug under a microscope."
"If we can neutralize the threat, this'll only be temporary."
"And if we can't?" I already know the answer, but I ask anyway.
"Then I suggest you get used to Trenton and Chris because they aren't going anywhere."
"When are you going to let me make decisions about my security?" I start. "I should, at the very least, get to be in on the discussions and the interviews for people!"
"Blue, I'm n—"
"I'm just going to..." Levi interrupts us as he awkwardly paces toward the door. "Head out."
Shit, I'd forgotten he was even here.
Ryker's glare intensifies as the doors swing back and forth, exposing Chris standing just across the hall. With his feet planted apart and arms crossed behind his back, he's even more intimidating. Mercifully, the doors quit moving when his head turns my way and I quit my shameful ogling.
The man really has no business being so handsome.
"We aren't going to agree on this, Blue." Ryker clenches his teeth. "Let's focus on getting you up and moving."
"I still can't move anything besides my head."
A frustrated sob catches in my throat. No matter how much I command my hands and feet to move, they remain still. What am I doing wrong?
"Do you feel them at all?" Ryker asks, lifting my right arm and bending it. Pressure leads up to my shoulder, but my body doesn't react and neither does my brain. "We know the joints work."
I roll my eyes, scoffing. "That's the main worry, of course."
"How about w—" A shrill ring echoes through the room and I gasp, slamming my eyes shut. "Shit! Sorry, Blue."
He rushes to cut the noise, but it's too late. Dizziness makes my head swim and my ears ring like bells are tolling. Again, why did I think this was a good idea?
"I need to take this."
His voice lowers, trailing off almost forlornly. Curious, I study his face. Dark stubble lines his jaw and his hair is wild from his fingers. Sadness pulls at his eyes, but when he looks at me, he pulls a smile.
It doesn't fool me.
"Go ahead. It's alright."
"I'm sorry," he apologizes. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise."
I'm happy when the doors swing shut behind him, and I'm finally alone, but the retreat doesn't last long. Chris Gatlin and his ridiculously handsome glory strolls in. His eyes lock on mine briefly but skitter away to trace every nook and cranny.
"Is there a security alert?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"No," he mutters, sauntering to the windows to my left. "Ryker suggested I remain in the room with you."
"Why?"
"Because there's standing security risk."
"And you might prevent it by standing inside of my room rather than seeing the threat coming? Do you possess ultra-sonic hearing and no one told me?"
"No, but there's only one kind of screaming I like, and it wouldn't be the kind you'd let out if someone was in here."
Did he just say—? Seriously? How is this man so fucking fine?
"Cute," I say, not playing into his innuendo. "But it sounds like Ryker thinks I need a babysitter."
"You're paralyzed from the neck down. That makes you helpless, and like a baby, needing a babysitter."
I narrow my eyes, daring him to look at me. "I'm not paralyzed."
His expression crumples, and finally, his eyes meet mine. "Then what are you?"
"He didn't tell you?"
"He said your condition was need to know only and all I need to know is you're in danger. I'm here to keep you safe, not romance you, Dr. Hawthorne."
"Blech," I scoff, "please don't call me that."
"That's your name, isn't it?"
"Yes, but I'd prefer if you'd call me Blue."
He nods and looks away. "Chris."
"Where are you from?"
"Not here."
"Obviously." Exasperated, I shake my head. "If we're going to be spending loads of time together, we're going to get to know each other better either way."
"All you need to know is I can protect you, Blue." His voice takes an edge, and it rubs me wrong. "We aren't friends."
"You're a right asshole, aren't you?"
His blank stare sends a shiver up my spine. "You have no idea."
Blowing him off, I turn my gaze to the windows running the length of my room. It's similar to my hospital room but more modern. The furniture is comfortable and all black, made from cypress and ebony trees. White marble floors set off the white walls and gold and black abstract art. Behind my head are eight touchscreen TVs flashing my vitals.
Beneath me is a thick mattress inlaid with tech. Huge mechanical arms retract under the base and smaller ones are inserted directly into the mattress itself. Every few minutes they shift, turning my body or pumping steroids and anesthesia to stave off the pain for another 4 to 6 hours.
In the silence, my mind works rapidly. Blue light bleeds into my vision, and I settle my head back to watch the changes in my company. With nothing more than a wink, I can send information across the oceans and have a response in a fraction of the time an email chain or instant message would take.
And this is only the beginning.
"So, what are you?"
My head bashes against the bed as his voice comes out of nowhere.
"What?"
"What are you?"
I blink owlishly, "what?"
"You said you aren't paralyzed, but you haven't moved anything other than your head. What are you?"
"Recovering from major surgery." I grouse. "Someone attacked me at my home and my spine was damaged. The surgery repaired it, but I'm having trouble moving my limbs."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
"You look perfectly healthy to me."
Clenching my teeth, I stare him down. "I'm glad no one is paying you to analyze how healthy or unhealthy I look."
He sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. "I'm sorry."
"Are you?"
"I wouldn't have apologized if I didn't mean it."
"Really? I wasn't aware apologies were only two words long. They usually have a beginning, middle, and an end."
"You're pretty blunt, aren't you?"
I shrug. "I'm many things, Gatlin."
We lapse into a comfortable silence as the minutes stretch by. He does a cursory glance outside every few minutes and walks the length of the room. His aura is confident, strong and calming.
Soon, I find myself fighting sleep.
It's the first time in days I've truly felt safe and I hate it. I hate Ryker for being right about him. I'm not sure about Trenton. He seems like a good guy, but people can turn on you so quickly...
"Wake up, sleepy head."
A piercing ache radiates up my side as I crack my eyes open. Wincing, I shut them. It's full noon, and the sun is doing her best to burn my eyeballs out.
"How long was I asleep?"
Ryker glances at his watch. "Close to 16 hours."
"16 hours?!" I choke. "Wha—what?"
"You needed the rest. There's nothing wrong with that."
"So, how was your evening with Chris?"
"Gatlin seems like a really nice guy." Dramatically, I roll my eyes.
"He's here to protect you, Blue. Nothing else."
I frown. He's the second one to say those words to me. Did Ryker mention something to him about my relationship with Catrina?
"It's time we address the elephant in the room."
"Which is?"
"The staff at Oleum Hold."
I perk up. "Oh, yes, how are they? Did we get them sorted to another location?"
I've been selfish the last few days. I hadn't even considered what happened to the people who work around me. As if they were simply ghosts who needed to haunt somewhere else.
"No."
"No?" I laugh nervously. "Why not? Did they all quit?"
Ryker swallows harshly and leans over the side of my bed to take my hand in his. His silence kills me inside and I gasp for my next breath. It's bad. It's really bad.
"Dad... what happened?"
"You know, the damage to the Hold was extensive..."
"Dad..."
"And you nearly died..."
"Tell me you didn't..." I tip my head to the side, offering watery eyes to catch his.
He didn't. He couldn't.
"Someone had to make a judgment call."
"Someone." I parrot. "And you let them die."
I'm hollow inside. Hollow and howling. Brilliant scientists and loyal security all whipped clean from the planet.
They'd never smile, never laugh, and never live another day. I've laid in this bed, mooning about my own situation, when their families are not only hurting, but utterly confused. Working with me should be an easy, safe job.
They'd lost their lives for naught.
"They died so you could live."
"Yeah, I'm sure that'll bring their families comfort. How could you do it?"
"Do you honestly think I'd sacrifice you for them?" He asks. "Nothing moves forward without you. I swore I'd keep you safe and protect you. How is dying on an operating table during an invasion doing my job?"
"I'm not worth them." I shake my head. "I'm not worth half of them. Hell, I'm not even worth one of them. I can't believe you..."
"Blue, I—"
"Get out." I growl. The last thing I want is to see his face or hear his voice. Not now.
I don't have it in me. There's nothing left.
"Sweetheart, don't be rash. We can talk about this. I can fix this."
"How do you intend on fixing this, Dad? How? You learn how to bring people back from the dead and I just don't know it?"
"No, bu—"
"But nothing!" I scream. "Get. Out. Now."
Calmly, he steps away from the bed. The emotion on his face bleeds away and a mask firmly snaps in place. He's hiding from me.
When I was younger, it hurt, but now it's a further testament to how he views the people around me. They're expendable—replaceable. And they died so I could live.
"I'll be back later, when you've calmed down."
I want to tell him not to bother, but I can't get the words past my lips. Life is precious, and I'd never recover if anything happened to him. Utterly destroyed, I lean my head on the mattress and ignore his retreat.
Did he even know their names? No, but I do. I know each one and I remember each face.
"Sleeping again, already?"
I peek open my eyes at Chris' voice. "Don't you have a hall to guard?"
"No, not right now. Trenton's on duty."
Hesitating, I study him. "You—you haven't seen Catrina Bovin, have you?"
He glances at me. "Your other guard?"
I nod.
"Yes, I've met her."
When he doesn't offer any more information, I suck my teeth. "And?"
"And what?"
"Is she okay?"
"Shouldn't you be worried about your body still not moving?"
I'm sick of his shit. "Whether or not I recover is none of your business."
"You're my responsibility, which means your health is my business and worrying about your personal guard is strange considering you didn't care about anyone else at your burned-down mansion."
"Get out." I seethe. "Get the hell out of my room right now."
"I would, but you're not my employer and you don't tell me what to do."
"I sign your paychecks, asshole."
He laughs. "No, you don't. Ryker Daniels does."
"Excuse me!" I launch upward. "I own all of this shit and you are on my payroll. I could fire you and throw you out on your ass!"
"Empty words and empty threats."
"I'll show you an empty threat."
Steaming mad, I thrust my blanket off and rise to my feet. He chuckles as I stomp toward him, intent on slapping the smirk right off his face. But as my hand nears his face, he catches it and pulls me toward him.
"Guess you aren't paralyzed anymore." He points out. "You're welcome."
My breathing fractures.
I can move.
"How—?"
Reaching up, he taps the side of my head. "You spent too much time up here."
Wordlessly, I yank away from him and head toward the bathroom.
"You're welcome, Blue." He shouts after me.
I stop and turn, fixing him with a glare. "I didn't say thank you."
Smirking, he shrugs. "No, but you just did."
"What?"
Smiling wickedly, he motions to the thin gown I'm wearing and the back, where the ties are loose, exposing my entire backside.