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“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m dangerous.”
“That’s not a reason.” I walked closer, lowering my hand. In his mind the intimacy was more than just a mistake. A part of me had expected this reaction from him, but the hurt while experiencing it took my breath away.This isn’t reality, Isabella. There is no happy ever after.“Take it.”
“It’s a damn good reason.” He snatched the cup from my hand, grumbling under his breath. “You left the room.”
“Now I can’t move from room to room?”
Exhaling, he placed the weapon on his lap, sliding his hand through his hair. “I didn’t say that.”
I sat down on the edge of the bed, nursing the cup in both hands, the silence creating a deep ache. What could or should I say to him? I had no idea what was appropriate. He decided what was appropriate and not.
“That shit can’t happen again,” he huffed then took a sip of coffee.
“What shit?”
“Last night. The other day.”
I tried to figure out why he was doing this. Did he want me to hate him? Would that make it easier on him?
“Because I can’t protect you.”
“You can’t fuck me and keep me safe at the same time?”
He cocked his head, his face remaining pinched. “Not effectively, Isabella.”
“So we’re through?” I had no idea why I asked the question. I’d known better.
“There was never a ‘we.’”
I nodded several times, furious with myself for feeling angry with him. His reasoning made sense, even if the pang in my heart would remain a dull ache for several days, maybe weeks. “Fine. What now?”
“Now, I go into town.”
“I thought you said that wasn’t wise.”
“I lied.” He took a single sip of coffee before placing it on the table next to the chair. I expected him to barge out of the room, shutting down not only the conversation but his feelings as well, but he remained on the chair, never blinking. “I have a few things I need to take care of.”
He made me nervous, more so than the day before. “I watched you sleeping last night.”
“Why the fuck would you do that?”
“Because you woke me up murmuring.”
Cobra shook his head, his jaw tightening. “What did I say?”
“All I could understand was you telling someone to speak English.”
He laughed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. The sound was disturbing.
I clamped my fingers around the sheet then slid the coffee mug onto the nightstand, the taste now bitter. “How were you captured?” I whispered the question, concerned he would be angry I was trying to dig into his personal life.
If my question was a surprise, nothing registered, but his gruff voice troubled me. “It was a mission gone south, the intel my squad received wrong. They were driven into an ambush, our tanks blown to shit. When I finally managed to get to them, I fared no better, but I crawled out of the wreckage, doing everything I could to free the men who’d served beside me for over a year. The fire was too much. I crawled into the muck and darkness, unable to block their screams. Then four insurgents appeared out of the forest. I resisted, able to kill one of them, but after a hard blow from an AK-47, I was down for the count. I woke up in a pit in sweltering heat. That’s where I stayed for thirteen months.”
