A Harmless Little Game (Harmless #1)(55)

“Thank goodness no one was severely injured. Your head wound is bad enough, but without Drew’s quick thinking, this could have been much worse.” Her breathless comment makes me think she’s just a nice woman.

Those little calculated looks, though...

“Finished?” She asks, pointing to my bowl.

I nod. She takes it away, rinses it, puts it in the dishwasher, and starts the machine. I look at the clock. It’s only one o’clock. Maybe she works different hours than I thought?

“I’ve made dinner in advance,” she explains, as if she knew what I was afraid to ask. “You can heat it up. Directions are taped on top. When your parents are out of town, they ask me not to come.” Connie has a pained look on her face. “And your mother said to just make you something simple for your evening meal. Salmon and spinach and cauliflower.”

“No chocolate ganache?” I joke

Connie looks self-righteously incensed. “I offered! But she—”

“Let me guess. She said I didn’t need the calories.”

Connie winces.

“It’s fine. Not your fault. I know how Mom works.”

“You sure you’ll be okay?”

“I have seven ex-Special Ops men guarding me, Connie. If anyone in the world is safe, it’s me.” I give her an impish grin.

Truth be told, I don’t want anyone hovering over me.

Except, maybe, Drew.

“Stay safe. Be careful.” Her frown deepens. “Nothing is ever what it seems like on the surface.”

Everyone keeps saying that. Before I can ask her what she means, Connie skitters off.

I’m finally alone.

My stomach’s full, my head is ready to explode, all I can think about is having Drew touch me, and someone’s trying to kill me.

Not just someone.

Them.

What’s a presidential candidate's daughter supposed to do in a moment like this?

Nap.

My own bed has become my best friend. I guess Jane is second. Drew’s third? At this point I can’t be choosy.

Bed it is.

Within seconds of settling my cheek on the pillow, I’m out.



Can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t move can’t escape can’t anything help help help.

I’m in the darkness Daddy help me come get me oh oh oh stop the pain stop it stop it stop it noooooooo.

Something wet covers my face. It’s sticky and tangy, like blood but thicker. Someone yanks my hair up, so hard each strand tingles, pulled tight until it snaps, making my neck muscles spasm. I crawl into the soft spot inside my mind where none of this happens but they won’t stop touching me, filling me, opening me, making me scream and grunt and cry until I can’t make sound.

And then darkness.

Not enough darkness.

My shoulders can’t move, the bones grinding so hard. It’s a different pain than what they do to me elsewhere. Grind my bones for a thousand years, but please don’t do that any more.

Please.

I open my eyes. Can’t talk, but maybe if they see my eyes they’ll stop. If I say please with my eyes.

But my eyes are covered with one of my scarves.

I don’t exist. They covered my eyes so I can’t see them.

And so they can’t see me beg them no.

No.

No.



“Noooooooooooooooooo!” My own scream shatters the solitude in the house, my voice at the ready, the feeling like a sneeze that won’t execute, an anti-orgasm that won’t release.

I can speak.

“Lindsay, damn it,” Drew says, running into the room, his hands on my arms. I’m aware enough to realize I’ve done it again. Another damn dream.

“Where are they?” I beg Drew. “Do we know where they are?”

“Yes.”

I’m panting, covered in sweat, and my head wound aches like I’ve been banging my head with a brick. “You’re sure?”

“I have someone tailing them at all times.”

“All three of them?”

He nods.

“Where are they?”

His hands don’t leave my shoulders. “God, Lindsay, you’re covered in sweat but ice cold.” He pulls me to him and lifts the coverlet off my bed to cocoon us both. He’s wearing sweat pants, a tight green t-shirt with a West Point logo on it, and as he hugs me, I feel his gun cut into my hip.

His warmth makes me start to shiver, paradoxically.

“Drew.” Why won’t he answer me?

“You don’t know where they are?” His voice is tight as he asks.

“No. Why would I?”

“Why, indeed, would you?”

What the hell is this?

I’m in his arms. We’re wrapped intimately in a bed cover, but his body is tight with tension. This is not the same caring Drew from last night. Not even from this morning. Some part of him changed after he received that phone call.

“Spill it.”

“Spill what?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“Why are you acting like I’m suspicious? Like you’re watching me.”

“It’s my job to watch you.”

“No. It’s your job to protect me. Not to give me covert glances like you think I’m about to steal all the cookies in the cookie jar.”