Out of Love(62)

“Dude …” Kara’s eyes widened. “He told you he lost a friend, and you went back to surfing?”

“He didn’t tell me what happened. He just asked me to come home. I thought he was being a little possessive of my time since he wouldn’t tell me why.”

Missy brushed past me.

“Where are you going?” I followed her.

“I want to give him my condolences.”

“No—”

Too late.

She knocked on his window. He rolled it down again.

“I’m so sorry to hear about your friend.”

“Yeah,” Kara added.

I bit my lips together, eyes wide.

Slade’s gaze stayed on me for several seconds before flitting to Kara and Missy. “Thanks.”

“Let us know if you need anything. We’ll get your Jeep back to you in the morning.” Missy hugged me.

“Thanks,” I released her and hugged Kara.

Grabbing my bag, I climbed into Slade’s SUV.

“Who died?” he asked, pulling out of the lot.

“Your friend.”

“You didn’t believe I had friends.”

“Do you?”

“No.”

I would have laughed, but he was taking me away from my Saturday night plans with my friends because he feared for my safety, but I had no idea why. And maybe he knew that. Maybe he knew I wouldn’t get far enough to ask the real questions. Maybe it was all made up.

But why?

So I asked. I’d get more questions with my bartering skills. “Why do you feel an insane need to protect me? And yes, this is my second question.”

“Because I love you.”

“That’s …” I felt so damn conflicted. Those words coming out of his mouth rendered me speechless every time, but it wasn’t the real answer.

“I don’t like this game,” I murmured, staring out the side window.

“Neither do I,” he whispered. I didn’t think he meant for me to hear it, but I did.

The second he stopped the vehicle in the driveway, I tried to hop out, but he grabbed my arm. “I go first.”

“You go first where?”

He opened his door. “Everywhere.”

On a huff, I followed him and Jericho to the back door. He unlocked the door and reached behind him as he opened it slowly. His hand wrapped around a gun that he slid out of the waist of his jeans.

What the hell …

He had a gun. I knew he had many weapons, but never on him. I held in my gasp, my string of questions, and my fear as he and Jericho stepped inside. I slinked behind them, holding my breath. He turned and held up his hand for me to stay.

Jericho led the way, and they scoped out the main floor before going upstairs while I remained cemented to my spot just inside the back door.

“We’re good,” he said as he reached the bottom of the stairs and tucked his gun back into his waistband. Not just his waistband … I narrowed my eyes. He had a holster. This wall in my brain kept him separated from his profession.

I’d never seen him take a life.

I’d never seen him hold any of the weapons in his dungeon.

Until then.

Something changed when I watched him grip that gun with ease and comfort, when he moved through the house with it pointed ahead of him—on guard yet perfectly calm at the same time.

Slade Wylder took lives, and he did it like an afterthought.

“What’s happening?” I whispered, afraid to move an inch.

“I don’t know yet.” He cupped my neck with both hands, his thumbs caressing my throat, and he kissed the top of my head.

“W-why do you have that gun? Am I in danger? Have you …” I glanced up at him, my hands grabbing his arms as he continued to cradle my neck in his protective hands. “You’ve put me in danger.”

Wylder grunted a laugh and released me. “No.” He turned, leaving me frozen in place while he opened the fridge. “Tell me about your dad.”

“What? Why?” I squinted. My thoughts spun, making me dizzy as I wobbled on listless legs to a kitchen chair. “What did you do? Why are you carrying a gun? Why did you have to check the house? Tell me what’s going on.”

“Is your family rich?”

“What?” My face contorted as I shook my head, trying to sort through everything jumbled in my mind. “No.”

“Influential?” He turned, opening a bottle of beer.

“No. Why are you asking me this? Whatever this is … whoever is coming after you … it has nothing to do with me. That night at the convenience store was random, not calculated. It could have happened to anyone.”

“Has your dad done anything to piss anyone off? Does he have any enemies?”

“No. Slade … why are you asking me about my dad?”

He took a long swig and set it down. Then he rested his hands on the edge of the counter and dropped his head. “You said he’s a computer geek. What does that mean? Is he a hacker? Does he work for the government? A big corporation?”

“He’s a computer engineer. He doesn’t work for the government. His job is boring, without influence, and for a midsized company. His hobbies include playing the piano, exercising, overprotecting me, and missing my mom. That’s it. What is your point?”