The Protector 2

Chapter One-3

“There are two bedrooms upstairs. The one facing south will be yours, and I will sleep in the other. Rita and Gunner will be sharing the one downstairs. Mac takes the sofa,” he states firmly, and I’m just staring at him, without making a move.

It might be embarrassing, but from his whole monologue the only thing that has reached my consciousness is that it isn’t Rafe but the other chap sharing the bedroom with sexy Rita. We have already checked each other out with the rocker-looking girl, and I’ve noted to myself that she is really quite hot. She wears tight leather pants, and most of her hair is dyed blue, yet, it somehow suits her. Even the tattoos on her neck seem to be decent. She’s not so young anymore, but her face is pretty. Really cool. A typical motorbike-chick, one that attracts the eyes of men like a magnet. I wouldn’t be surprised if Rafe also liked her, even if Rita is older than him. Although it’s mone of my business, it still feels nice to hear that Rita shares the bedroom with Gunner, and I assume they share the bed too. From what I’ve seen of them, I think they are an item. I make sure my contentment doesn’t show on my face, though. I look at Rafe provokingly, tilting my head, but I don’t leave the kitchen.

“Your room is upstairs,” he repeats, this time with a bit more emphasis.

“So?”

“Go upstairs, and make yourself at home,” he orders, and I’m beginning to get upset.

“I’ll go up later.”

“Go now!” he storms at me, then, clearing his throat, he continues low-key. “Don’t unpack too much. Only take out what’s absolutely necessary. If we have to leave the house unexpectedly, we won’t have time to bother packing.”

“Unexpectedly?” I raise my eyebrows with provocation. “I thought this was a safe house. Safe, and all.”

Rafe murmurs something ugly under his nose, and takes deep yoga breaths. He is bursting with anger, and I feel very satisfied with myself.

“It is. Y-yet, we have to be prepared for every possibility.”

I pull my hand along the kitchen counter.

“I’m hungry,” I say teasingly.

Rafe slowly smooths his face with his palm, apparently trying to force calmness on himself. It doesn’t escape my attention how his fists are clenching by his sides, in and out, in and out.

“Rita will make something for dinner,” he says quietly, yet his voice is shaking with temper. “Mac and I are going to check things out around the house. Now go upstairs into the bedroom,” he looks at me with burning blue eyes and quivering lips. As I’m still not making a move, he adds: “Please.”

I heave a deep sigh, and rolling my eyes, as slow as I can, I start for the steps. I shuffle past Rafe, who pulls to the side to make way. Swaying my butt a bit more than usual, I start climbing the steps, with Rafe in my wake. I acknowledge with contentment that a mix of cursing and moaning breaks from him while walking behind me. I pull a cheeky smile. As a means of revenge, I purposefully apply the fine hip moves that I mastered on the catwalk. From the way Rafe drops my stuff on the floor and slams the door of my room behind him as he leaves, I know that the torture was effective.

From the window, I watch the men seeing to each of the motion sensors which were set up last night in a twenty meter radius from the house. Rafe and Gunner were working out in the dark until late to secure the house on all four sides from the occurrence of unwanted visitors. Mac has also set up a spontaneous observatory in the living room, connecting two laptops with the signalling devices outside. The screens are divided, covering the vicinity of the house, in 360 degrees. Mac has explained that the infra cameras are providing the two laptops with constant information, and when the sensors sense motion, a loud beep indicates there is some action outside. The boys have tested the system a few times to see if everything was working perfectly, and it was already dawning when I heard the neighbouring bedroom’s door was closing. But they don’t all sleep at the same time. When I got up to pee at night, I saw Mac fiddling with the laptop on the sofa. I guess they’ve worked out a schedule between each other, to make sure one person is always awake while the others are sleeping. An unpleasant feeling comes over me at the thought that Mac is staying awake because of me. I know this is just a job for him for which he probably gets generously paid, but still. The thought doesn’t fill me with much joy that I am the subject of this job, myself. I hate that my role is yet again the victim’s, who is in need of protection. I wonder if Rafe also considers me no more than work. Whatever it may be, I won’t make his job easier, that’s for sure. Let him work hard for the fortune my uncle pays him – I sulk, but since I can also feel how juvenile my attitude is, I am just as angry with myself as I am with him.

Last night I had supper in my room. Although Rita asked me very kindly if I wanted to join them downstairs to eat, I grumpily turned the offer down. I only had a coffee for breakfast, even that, in my room. I read, walk up and down between the door and the window, then I read again, only to get upset about why I can’t concentrate on the book. I just can’t find my place, and then, as I see that the men are outside, running their checking circles around the house, I decide to end my voluntary exile. I was even rude with them yesterday, which makes me feel ashamed. It’s not their fault that Rafe Harlan is an arsehole. I can’t take my anger out on them. And besides, here I am buried alive, God knows where. I desperately need every friendly smile and kind gesture.

Rita is busy in the kitchen, cleaning vegetables when I make my way into the living room with uncertain footsteps. I feel slightly embarrassed about how I behaved yesterday. I pretend to be busy studying the raw wood casing on the inside of the house, honestly hoping that Rita won’t make it harder on me. She looks at me and turns back to the vegetables without saying anything. I carefully step closer to the kitchen counter, and pull a little smile.

“Can I help?”

Rita lifts her eyes on me, and slowly smiles. A huge wave of relief washes over me.

“Are you hungry?” she asks.

“It’s not too bad,” I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t have a big appetite.”

She eyes me with pity.

“Well, I’m not surprised about that, dear,” she sighs. Then she nods her head towards the rest of the vegetables, and hands me the peeler. “If you could take this from me, I can go ahead and chop up the meat.”

I roll up the sleeve of my blouse and start peeling.

“What was your plan?” I ask, nodding towards the currently empty, gigantic saucepan.

“Something simple. With a lot of meat and pasta. And the stress is on a lot, if you know what I mean,” she laughs out loud, pointing her chin to the window, referring to the men.

I know what she means. Growing up with two boy cousins, I have some idea about the amount of food males are able to consume. I laugh with her, shaking my head at the funny memory of Chris and Sandro’s competition called ‘who can eat more hotdogs without throwing it all up’. I miss the boys, even though it’s only been a day. I feel terribly lonely.

For a while we work silently, and the only noises filling the air are the scratching of the peeler and the knife knocking against the wodden cutting board. In a short time, I pull myself together and glance to the side.

“I want to apologize for yesterday. I was very rude. I’m not usually such a jerk, especially not with those who don’t even deserve it,” I say with interruptions. “So, I want to say sorry.”

Rita lifts her warm brown eyes on me, and gives me a big smile. The smile makes her face even more beautiful.

“Let’s forget about it, dear. It happens,” she says, and pushes me playfully with her hip. This makes me smile too. I get on with the work, but can’t keep quiet for very long. I lift my face to the ceiling, and the words of dejection break from my lips.

“The thing is, this whole issue wears me out. Forty-eight hours ago I still had a life. Plans and goals. But now,” I drop my hands to my sides with frustration, “I’m fleeing from some madman, hiding in this far corner of the world, locked together with strangers.” I quickly come to my senses, and blink in Rita’s direction with alarm. “Oh God. I’m such a moron, please, forgive me. I didn’t mean it. I mean, I didn’t mean to say…”

“Just chill! Relax,” she puts her hand calmingly on my lower arm. “I’m not feeling hurt. I know that you’re in a crappy situation. I understand that you are freaked out. You’re fine.”

“I’m just so shattered,” I say, exhaling loudly, and my eyes wander to the window and settle on the men doing their business outside.

Rita follows my gaze. Out of the corner of my eye I sense that she studies me with a frown for a short time before speaking up.

“Rafe and you… this is not the first time you’ve met, right?”

“What?” I look at her with wonder.

“I don’t want to be nosy, but every i***t can see how the air is sizzling between you two.”

“The air? Sizzling?” I repeat numbly, at which Rita turns back to the meat, and gets on with the chopping. Then, inadvertently, she adds:

“Burning, actually.”

I gulp, and make an effort to divert my stare from Rafe’s shapely, denim-clad behind out in the woods. I take the veg to the sink to rinse it.

“We do know one another from earlier times,” I say quietly. “For a while… we were together. For a very short while. At university,” I confess unwillingly.

Rita puts down the knife, and turns fully in my direction. She eyes me up and down as if I was from outer space.

“What the heck!” the words break from her, and she stares at me with growing interest.

I’m feeling positively unpleasant because of the way she is studying me. It even crosses my mind that she might be jealous. She might think that Rafe and I… and the last thing I need is another enemy. I begin to shake my head frantically.

“It’s not what you think.”

“Why, what do I think?” she tilts her head.

“That… I mean, that Rafe and I… that there’s something between us.”

“There isn’t?”

“There isn’t. There used to be, a long time ago. Maybe. Something,” I mumble with a shrug. “A university relationship that ended in a lousy way.”

“I see,” she nods suggestively.

“How do you mean that?”

“I’ve never seen him as out of sorts as he is now. I could tell there was something going on, but Rafe is not an informative type.”

I carefully glance at her.

“Is there anything between the two of you?” I ask more cautiously.

She looks back with raised eyebrows, visibly amused. While tossing the meat on the oil, she answers over her shoulder.

“Between us? For goodness sakes, no! Gunner is my man, dear. You really don’t need to worry about me.”