Rules of Protection(29)

The much smaller guest house—something similar to a cottage—sat two steps off the ground, but wasn’t in any better condition. Someone had scraped the old paint, but never got around to repainting the siding. Or maybe they preferred the weathered look. I wasn’t sure, but regardless…this was the Hilton?

In that moment, all I knew was that Jake had brought me here under false pretenses, and I was pissed. Okay, it wasn’t really false pretenses. After all, Jake did say it was a perfect place to hide me out. Nobody in their right mind would look for me here. Of course, that’s only because I’d have to be out of mine to stay here.

He turned off the car and looked over at me. I gave him a menacing glare, hoping it filled him with as much dread as I’d felt when I realized where we’d be staying.

“Okay, Emily, I understand you’re upset, but I think—”

“Upset? That doesn’t begin to cover it, you…you…kidnapping *! You made it sound like we were going to be staying somewhere decent. Hell, I’d have settled for something livable. If you think I’m staying in that cardboard box, you can go get f*cked.”

A muscle twitched in the side of his jaw. Tension built in his shoulders as he gripped the steering wheel with tightly clasped hands. He tried to control his temper, but failed miserably.

“Kidnapping? I can’t believe you’re going to start that crap again. You’re a royal pain in my ass. I’ve never met a woman this frustrating in my entire life. You’re a rude, unappreciative spoiled brat!”

“Why? Because I don’t want to spend my nights in low-income housing?” I asked with a sarcastic tone. “What’s next? Are we going to share a sleeping bag in a tent out in the woods?”

“Either you can stay here or take your chances with Frankie Felts,” Jake said matter-of-factly. “I’m offering you an alternative to death, but it’s up to you. If you want to leave, I’m not stopping you.”

A porch light flipped on upstairs and grabbed our attention. An older couple stepped out the front door and headed down the stairs.

“When you’re done with your tantrum, you can decide what you want to do,” Jake added. “All I ask is that you don’t be rude to my aunt and uncle. They’re good people.”

I served him a sweet smile. “I’m sure I’ll like them fine. It’s you I don’t like.”

“Good. I don’t like you, either,” Jake said angrily, opening his door to get out.

He knew I wouldn’t leave. Where else did I have to go? Nope, I was stuck with him, even after he called me all those names. The thing that bothered me most was that he meant them. Maybe I had reacted poorly to him misleading me, but he didn’t have to be so harsh. I let the hurt feelings percolate through my system, then pushed them away. Mental note: send the FBI hate mail for saddling me with Jake.

I ran my fingers through my flat, lifeless brown hair hoping to tease it into better condition, but it was no use. After traveling cross-country, it wasn’t going to look any better until I washed it. In fact, I wasn’t going to feel better at all until I took a long, hot shower. Of course, that’s assuming these people actually had hot water. My legs cramped, my back hurt, and my stiff muscles needed to stretch. Exhausted, I opened my door and stepped out slowly wearing cement shoes.

Jake shook his uncle’s hand firmly, gave him a pat on the back, and then gave his aunt a big hug, lifting her completely off the ground. They were happy to see each other, which sent a small twinge of jealousy through me. I hated to break up their reunion, but introductions were necessary.

“This is Emily Foster,” Jake said. “Emily, my Uncle Hank and Aunt Floss.”

His uncle stepped forward to shake my hand with a slight hobble in his gait. Hank was probably somewhere in his late sixties with a head full of wavy silver hair and a neatly trimmed beard to match. He was tall, but round in the middle under his denim overalls. My first thought was he’d make a handsome Santa Claus. My second thought was he’d make an even better Kenny Rogers.

“You got a lot of baggage?” Hank asked with a drawl.

I shrugged and smiled lightly. “Does emotional count?”

He chuckled under his breath. “Well, I’d say it does, but that’s not something I can carry for you, young lady. I’m sure it’s heavy, but you make sure you unpack that bag first,” Hank said, giving me a wink. I couldn’t help but love the man immediately.

Jake’s aunt wore a cotton dress like a potato sack over her petite, slender body, with gray hair wound firmly into a bun on the back of her head. She grabbed me and gave me a kiss on each cheek. “Nice to meet you, dear. Are you hungry? I could whip up something. You look like you could stand to gain a few pounds.” Bless this woman!

“Thanks, but no, we stopped and ate.”

“Well, if you decide you want something, I stocked the guest house with a few snacks. Be sure to help yourself,” she said.

I nodded and smiled a thank you to her. Great. Now I feel like such a douche after the way I acted toward Jake in the car. They both were kind, and I couldn’t imagine it being that bad staying here, if only for a short while.

“I’m sure they’re both worn out,” Hank told his wife. “A shower would probably do wonders. I bet it’s been a long day.”