of the downward slope and I couldn’t control it and before I knew it I fell to the pavement, scraping my hands against the gravel.
I caught myself before I fell to my knees, but not before the rough surface of the road burned against my skin and one of the cuts on my wrist opened up.
“Shit,” I swore, and bitter tears filled my eyes.
And then, suddenly, a car turned onto the street and pulled up next to me, so close I could smell the rubber from the tires and the exhaust from the tailpipe, and I thought for sure it would be that FBI agent, Caleb, that he’d followed me here. I wouldn’t be able to stand up to him this time, I decided. He was catching me at my lowest moment and I wouldn’t have the strength.
Maybe he would arrest me. I didn’t even care. I had nowhere to spend the night tonight, anyway, it might as well be in jail.
Then someone was calling my name.
“Olivia.”
And then he was there, Colt, his arms encircling my waist, picking me up from where I was collapsed on the pavement.
You’re safe. The thought burned in my brain automatically, but I rebelled against it. I wasn’t safe with him. I wasn’t safe with anyone but myself. Still. He felt so good, his chest so strong and firm, his body like rock hard granite, the kind of strength that would never, ever let anything hurt me.
And yet he had hurt me.
He’d slept with me and then he hadn’t even cared if I went to see Declan, and now he was back to mess with my mind some more.
“Are you okay?” he asked, and then he was holding my hands in his, checking my wrists, handling me delicately, the way he had last night when he’d caught me cutting myself. I remembered the concern that had been on his face, the way he’d told me I wasn’t going to cut myself anymore. But it had all been for show. Last night, I’d let him in, let myself think or wish that maybe he cared about me a little bit. But he didn’t care about me. So this time, I yanked my wrists away.
“Don’t touch me,” I snarled. I started walking back down the street.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Colt sounded exasperated and now the bastard was following me, but I kept walking. I’d get to the main road, and if he was still following me, I’d start screaming that I had a stalker.
He was faster then me, though, and those long legs of his were able to keep up with me easily. “Where are you going?” he demanded.
“Away from you.”
“Olivia, would you stop for one fucking second? You’re bleeding.”
I looked down to see he was right. There were streams of blood sliding down my wrists and staining the sleeves of my shirt.
“I don’t care.” I yanked the fabric down, trying to press the material against my cuts to stop them from bleeding. “Do you know what you’ve done to me? My life is ruined because of you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about this!” I reached into my bag and pulled out the card that Caleb had given me. I waved it around. “The FBI, Colt.” It was fucked up, but I enjoyed watching the look of anger and confusion that began to cloud his face. “Yup, that’s right,” I said. “They’re looking into Loose Cannons. And they said if I don’t help them, they’re going to come after me.”
The whole thing was so surreal it was ridiculous, and I began to laugh and cry at the same time, and then I was running again, running and running and Colt let me go all the way down the hill, even though I could hear him behind me, catching up to me easily, and when I got to the end of the street, I almost ran onto the main street, almost ran right into traffic.
That’s when he grabbed me from behind, around the waist, and picked me up off the ground, lifting me easily, like I was a feather. I elbowed him in the ribs as hard as I could, but he held me steady.
I elbowed him again, and then I started to kick him, but my kicks were ineffectual against him, he was so strong and big and he just didn’t care.
“Olivia,” he kept saying. “Olivia. Olivia, please, Olivia.”
He let me struggle and thrash for another minute or so and then there was no more hysterical