A Harmless Little Game (Harmless #1)(4)
My stomach twists like a wet rag in the hands of an angry god.
My heart, though—oh, my poor heart. It beats double time, speeding fast as if it could make up for lost years and find Drew, track down his own twinned heart and give it a welcome kiss. As if we were still lovers graced with the easy give and take of people who just know.
Just...know that they’re meant to be together.
All that emotion flits through me in two seconds. In the time it takes to inhale, I’m transported to the paradox of fate. The old Lindsay, battered and bruised beyond recognition, turns out to be crouched deep inside me, still there, still watching.
And summoned by the scent of a man I never thought I’d see again.
“You can’t,” Stacia snaps, bringing me out of the split-second reverie. “You can’t just take Lindsay.” Her eyes narrow, then flit from me to Drew. “Wait a minute. ‘Andrew’?” Her eyes widen. “You’re Drew?” She gives me one of those searching looks I know so well. The kind she uses in therapy sessions where she accuses me of withholding my emotions.
Where she’s right.
I halt, my arm brushing against Drew’s elbow as he moves from the threshold into the hallway. He curls his body protectively, as if forming a shield between me and Stacia.
A bitter taste fills my mouth. I begin to sweat, the sheen chilling my skin. I’m so close to leaving. I look out the window and see the helicopter.
Drew says something into his mouthpiece, then herds me to take three steps. Somehow, though, he does not touch me.
Oh, how I wish he would.
No! Where did that thought come from?
“You can’t!” Stacia repeats, her voice going higher with shock and panic. She’s shocked because he’s disobeying her. The Drew I knew four years ago had no problem disobeying an order if he had a reason.
My father has clearly given him a reason.
“Watch me,” Drew tosses back over his shoulder as he walks behind me, setting a fast pace. My heels click-clack on the hallway tiles. I pick up my speed. I don’t need to be told twice to move fast. I have no idea how much power Stacia has to keep me here, but it dawns on me that maybe she has less than I thought.
My first real smile in four years spreads my face as a grin takes over. I see my reflection in the glass walls as we walk down the hallway toward the double doors that take us outside.
And then I realize Drew’s watching me.
Watching me smile.
Chapter 4
Blood pounds through me as I slam the double-doors open, the blinding sunlight making me halt. I’ve been outside thousands of times here on the island, but never without supervision.
Technically, I’m supervised right now. But this feels different.
“Mr. Foster! Drew! You need to stop!” Stacia comes running behind us, her voice angry and loud. By the time she reaches us, the helicopter blades have begun to rotate with an aching slowness that makes my pulse quicken. It’s like watching a kitchen mixer slowly start. Anticipation makes me tingle, knowing that soon, that helicopter will contain me.
Drew reaches out and touches my shoulder. I flinch, but stop. He lets go. Why do I wish he wouldn’t let go? My skin is like a suit of cotton that covers millions of buzzing bees under the surface.
He whips around and faces Stacia, his sunglasses on now. “I need to accomplish my mission,” Drew answers, his words tight. “You do whatever paperwork you need, but Lindsay is done here.” And with that, he’s made Stacia as important as a plastic grocery bag carried into traffic on the wind.
He reaches for my elbow without permission and I’m walking next to him, two steps for each of his, giddy and panting as my hair starts flying behind me from the force of the wind the helicopter blades make.
“Senator Bosworth will—” Stacia’s words are cut off by the loud droning sound that comes from the helicopter engine. Suddenly, I don’t care that Drew is the one taking me away. He’s the reason I’m here. The reason I’ve suffered for four years. Later, when I’m home, I can scream at Daddy and have him fire Drew. I can yell and rage against whatever possessed my father to pick my ex-boyfriend to be my so-called “protector.”
Not now, though.
Now, he can get me the hell out of here.
I stumble right before the open door to the copter, my hip crashing into Drew’s as my ankle turns inward. I don’t fall. His hands hold me up, his muscles powerful and coiled under that suit jacket, his assured grip both infuriating and intoxicating.
He doesn’t say a word. Just picks up right where he left off, guiding me to the helicopter. I climb in and he reaches across my body to pull the seatbelt harness over me. I finally recover my wits and bat at his hands.
“I’m not a child,” I shout. He retreats, palms toward me, but he watches like a hawk to make sure I secure myself appropriately. Then he shuts the small door and hands me a set of earphones that look like catcher’s mitts. I hold them in my hands but don’t put them on.
It occurs to me that he’s observing me closely because I am his mission. Not because he has residual feelings for me. I’m a client. I’m a paycheck.
I’m a checklist for Drew, just like I was a checklist for Stacia.
Maybe I’m trading one kind of imprisonment for another.
Drew thumps the pilot on the back and we begin our ascent, Stacia below us and screaming on a phone, waving wildly at the rising chopper, her face twisted with anger at losing. I’m not sure what she just lost, and whether I’m the winner, but that smile on my face?