I ignore Finn’s complaints as I concentrate on my stretches, extending my arms over my head and clasping my hands together, tilting from side to side to work out the kinks in my back. We’re standing at the beginning of the Bryant Grove Trail in Long Hunter State Park, my favorite place to run when I’m home. It’s eight miles round trip, but with Finn’s constant bitching and moaning, we usually only complete half. Running is part of my strict fitness regimen that I have to follow in order to keep my stamina up for the concerts, but I'd still do it every day. It’s the one time I can shut my mind off. The only thing I need to focus on is my breathing, my heart rate, and the distance I’ve traveled. I don’t have to think about how trapped I feel or how if I have to spend one more day living this life, I’m going to keep losing piece after piece of myself until there is nothing left but the robot my mother has created.
“You were in the Marines. Didn’t you have to run in your sleep?” I question as I step onto the trail and set the timer on my watch.
“Yes. And that’s precisely why I don’t want to do it anymore. People shouldn’t run unless someone is chasing them,” he tells me.
Finn likes to complain, but I know he enjoys this as much as I do. He might not be too fond of the physical requirements, but the peace and quiet in his head is as important to him as it is to me.
Finishing up a few windmills with my arms, I whip my head around. “That’s the fifth time in the last minute you’ve looked back towards where we parked the car. What’s with you this morning?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. Just checking to see if there will be any other runners out here with us this morning. You know, since I am your bodyguard and all,” he says cockily.
“I’m sure it’s just going to be the two of us, just like every other time we run here,” I remind him, turning away from him and getting ready to really take off.
A snap of a branch close behind us has me stopping and quickly turning to the noise.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I can’t hide the shock or anger in my voice when I see who’s standing a few feet away from Finn, dressed in black nylon Nike shorts, a pair of running shoes, and an old AC/DC concert T-shirt that's just tight enough to show off all of the contours of his sculpted chest, and the short sleeves put his muscular arms on display.
“Thanks, but I’ve already got Finn here with me.” I try not to stare at his strong arms or the hint of a tattoo peeking out from under the edge of one of his shirt sleeves, instantly curious about what it is, in spite of my irritation with him.
“Yeah, we’re good here. This is our routine when we’re home. We’ve been doing just fine on our own without some stranger sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong,” Finn arrogantly tells Brady.
“That may have been fine in the past, but sticking with the same routine is what gets people killed,” Brady states as he walks closer to Finn, getting in his face.
“Are you trying to tell me I don’t know how to do my job?” Finn asks him heatedly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides with barely concealed rage.
Brady casually crosses his arms in front of his chest and uses the two inches he has on Finn to stare down at him, subtly trying to tell him that he could probably kick his ass without even blinking.
“I’m trying to tell you that your relationship with Layla might be clouding your judgment when it comes to protecting her.”
The way Brady spits out relationship proves that he’s done his research, at least as far as the tabloids go. For years they’ve hinted at an affair between Finn and I. Of course Eve made it known that we shouldn’t disparage those rumors. Any press is good press and all that bullshit.
“You’re a real piece of work, you know that!” Finn shouts.
I grab onto his arm and pull him back towards me. I’ve never seen him so worked up like this. His body is practically vibrating with fury. I don’t want anyone to get