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What the hell? Did she think he intended to feed her into it?
“Calm down, honey. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She looked at him with wary eyes. “Then what?”
He didn’t bother to explain, simply plucked her flip-flops from his pocket and fed them into the machine, watching a pile of pink rubber emerge on the ground. Then he flipped it off. “Making sure you can’t run.”
“Are you crazy? Those are my only shoes!”
“Were. They’re not shoes anymore. Let’s go.” He hoisted her farther up his body so her feet never touched the wintery ground, banding his arm around her tiny middle.
Gasping, Laila clung, wrapping her arms and legs around him to ensure she didn’t fall. Being so close to her made him instantly hard. No surprise there…
Trees climbed the front porch, made his way inside, and set her on her feet. By the ambient security lights he’d installed last night to serve as nightlights for her, he watched anger and mutiny cross her beautiful face.
God, she had the power to steal his breath. He shouldn’t be shocked since she’d already stolen his heart. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t touched her in what felt like forever. He hated the fact that, right now, she was hating him. Everything was a fucked-up tangle, but no one would risk her, even Laila. He intended to make damn sure of that.
“I needed those.” She stomped her bare foot.
“Not if you were going to walk your pretty ass into danger.”
Laila fumed—and tried to stifle it. She’d probably figured out that battling head on with him wasn’t the way to get what she wanted. But she was clever. And she was desperate to save her family. She wouldn’t give up.
Neither would he.
He took her by the arm, hauled her to the kitchen table, thrust her into the first chair, then wrapped his meaty hands around her shoulders. “What we have here is a failure to communicate.”
“I understand your English. I simply have my own thoughts, and I disagree with you.”
“I’m aware of that. I’m just making it incredibly clear that, whatever ridiculous scheme my bosses have cooked up, you’re not getting involved. You’re under my protection. As long as either faction of the cartel warring for control is after you, it’s my responsibility to keep you alive. Since you don’t seem to grasp that concept, we’re going to make some changes around here until you do.”
Without waiting for a response, he began patting her down. It was fucking hard not to notice her soft, lush breasts when he had to cup them. Impossible not to remember having them in his mouth or feeling them against his chest when he’d gripped her hips while riding her hard and fast. But now wasn’t the time for this trip down memory lane—or his erection. He needed to find her phone.
Laila pushed at his hands and turned her body away protectively, but he finally felt his way from her chest to her ass and pulled the phone from her back pocket.
He saw three messages from her sister, which was no surprise. And one from Hunter Edgington—twenty minutes ago.
That motherfucking bastard.
“What were you planning exactly?”
Stubbornly, she pressed her lips together, crossed her arms over her chest in a way that made her tits look even more luscious, and jerked her stare out the window.
Damn it. How the fuck could he get her to talk? Turning her ass red and stripping the starch from her attitude sounded great. But he’d never tested her trust that way, and they were both too angry for a consensual spanking now, even if she needed it. Hell, did she even trust him to protect her anymore?
Undeterred by her silence, Trees waved her phone in front of her face until it unlocked, then he started prowling through the device.
“No!” She lunged out of her chair and reached for it.
Trees merely held it at eye level, kind of amused as he watched her jump for it. There were occasional benefits to being freakishly tall.
He found the message string he’d been looking for, scanned and scrolled, reading as he went—and lost his fucking temper. “You were running to the edge of my property to meet up with Hunter tonight? Where the fuck was he taking you?”
With a frustrated huff, she plopped in her seat again. Because she realized the jig was up? “It is none of your concern.”
The hell it wasn’t.
With a snarl, he flipped on the overhead light and headed to the coffeepot. If he was going to interrogate her, he needed some damn caffeine. Days and days—most without a full night’s sleep—were catching up to him.
The instant he turned his back, she shoved out of her chair, legs scraping across the tile, and sprinted for the door. She’d barely reached it and pulled it open when he caught her around the waist again, lifted her, kicked the door shut, then carried her back to the kitchen. He pulled out the cuffs.
