His to Shelter (The Guard Book 1) by Em Petrova

Author:Em Petrova [Petrova, Em]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-17T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

When Oz turned on to a quiet street in the most unremarkable neighborhood in America, the tears that threatened at the backs of Rose’s eyes began to burn. He didn’t need to tell her that he planned to leave her here.

Part of her longed for solitude, a place to hide from the world and lick her wounds. Never in a million years would she have believed she’d be getting over Oz for a second time in her life.

House after house slid by her view through the window, and she bit back her rising emotions.

He braked in front of a small house tucked between two larger ones. The gray and white home didn’t stand out at all, which was why she knew it to be a safehouse.

“You’re leaving me here,” she said without looking at him.

“It’s for the best, Rose. When I hunt down these bastards after you, I need to be able to know you’re out of harm’s way.”

“You didn’t think I was safe with Elizabeth.” She turned her gaze on him, and he winced at what he saw on her face. Good—let him know the pain she’d felt over him for years. Why had she ever let him back into her heart?

Because he never left—he just picked up where he stopped.

She opened the door and stepped onto the sidewalk. “I’ll deliver myself to the safehouse.”

“Wait. Shit.”

She slammed the Humvee door and took off toward the house. He caught up to her and grabbed her elbow. She shook him off.

“Wait, I’m not leaving you like this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She lengthened her strides. When she reached the door, she lifted a hand to knock, but he pulled her back.

“Dammit, we aren’t leaving things this way.” His dark gaze penetrated her soul.

“You have work to do. I’m staying here so I’m out of your way. What else is there to discuss?” She reached around him and knocked on the door.

Oz opened his mouth to speak, but the door opened, cutting off anything he would say. A woman stood there, and within, a man got out of a recliner to join her.

Oz led Rose inside with a hand on her spine, and she stiffened against his touch. Really, she couldn’t blame anyone but herself. Eighteen years before, he’d told her what he didn’t want. He hadn’t changed. Neither had she—she still wanted the asshole.

Now she needed time away from Oz so she could regain her senses. With him nearby, giving her those dark looks of desire, how could she pry herself away from him?

Oz and the man walked into the kitchen, leaving Rose alone with the older woman. She appeared to be in her forties, wearing trousers and a sweater. Her brown hair gathered into a short ponytail at her nape, and she had kind creases from smiling around her blue eyes.

“I’m Rose.” Taking charge of her life, she held out a hand to the woman.

“I’m Geraldine. You can call me Gerry.” She smiled.

Rose forced her features into an arrangement other than the scowl she wanted to shoot in Oz’s direction.

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