Whoa! Where the hell are we?

This house is fab-u-lous. My mouth gapes and Boo appears by my side. “It’s the shit, huh?”

Eyes wide, I simply nod. I shake my head to clear it. My voice is low and shallow as I ask, “Where are we?”

Boo opens her mouth, but Nox cuts her off. “Safe house.”

More like safe mansion! I scan the room I’m in. It’s not as big as my house but it’s big. And nice. And open. At a glance, I can see a modern kitchen complete with marble countertops, a six-burner stove, and an oven big enough to fit to three Thanksgiving turkeys in it. The dining room has a sixteen-seater mahogany table with matching chairs.

Who the hell entertains for sixteen people? That’s not a dinner party, that’s a freakin’ fiesta.

The sparkling white walls confirm the owners of this house plan to have no children. The chandeliers in the main hall and dining area are large and gleaming. The ceilings are as high as high can be. The furniture is all mahogany and stunning. This place is timeless. This may very well be my dream house. It’s so homey and warm. I love it. But this place is huge. Spinning around, I risk a question that I’m not sure I’ll like the answer to. “Is my family coming here?”

Boo’s face falls and I know the answer before Nox says it. “No, Lily. You’re to remain separated. You won’t have contact with them until the threat we’re protecting you against is gone.”

My heart lurches.

How long will that be?

I don’t risk asking another question I may not like the answer to. Reaching up, I rub my temples with my fingertips. “Can you please tell me what the hell is going on? Why am I here?” Even to me my voice sounds tired and strained.

Silence. I open my tired eyes and look up at Nox. He searches my face. “Eat first.”

Too tired to argue, I nod, and drag my feet after him.

***

Nox

This is bullshit. This is not what I signed up for.

I sneak a glance at Delilah Flynn and I know, I just fucking know that she’s gonna be trouble. As soon as she smashed that vase on Ricky’s head, I knew I was fucked. When you look at her, you think the word pushover.

You see this pretty girl stuck in the body of a tomboy. She 5’8” and wears a pair of black loose athletic shorts that come just above her knees, a yellow football style tee that’s two sizes too big that comes just above her stomach showing her bellybutton and a pair of white sneakers.

Her choice of clothing doesn’t suit her face.

She’s pretty. And when I say pretty, I mean pretty. And she doesn’t even know it. Which doesn’t help me in the slightest. Her long, dark-reddish hair has half come out of its ponytail. It’s thick and has a wave to it. Her face is clear and her skin has a peaches-and-cream thing going on. She’s pale. Almost like she’s never seen the sun, but it suits her. Her bright-green eyes are encased by long dark lashes. She doesn’t wear a stitch of makeup. She’s naturally pretty. But that hair…that fucking hair. I haven’t seen anything like it. It’s thick and shiny. She’s got nice hair.

And that blows.

When you have a job like mine, you expect to come across contracts that you don’t like from time to time. Solution? Get it done quickly and forget about it. I’m being paid a lot, and I mean a lot, to babysit Miss Delilah Flynn for as long as it takes, so unfortunately, the quick and forget thing might not be happening.

I’m sorely regretting the decision I’ve made. I should’ve passed this job on.

Without a word, I place my hands under her arms and lift Delilah up onto the kitchen counter top. She yelps then growls, “Would you stop picking me up like I’m a freakin’ sack of potatoes!”

Leaving her, I open the cabinet above the pantry, take out the first-aid kit, and bring it over to her. She looks down at the kit with obvious confusion but doesn’t say a thing. I lift her leg and place her foot to rest on my thigh. It’s then she sees her scraped and bloody knees and mutters, “Of course. Great. Just great.”

Dear god, please give me strength to make sure that I don’t become the threat against the girl I’m trying to protect.

This little woman is grating my nerves something fierce. With her smartass comments and talking back, I’m gonna go nuts locked up here with her. Especially when I’m technically not allowed to let her out of my sight for as long as this thing takes. And I don’t know how long that’ll be. As far as I know, the threat hasn’t actually been confirmed just yet.

I tear open an antiseptic wipe, and as soon as I press it to her knee, she squeals then bursts into laughter while trying to kick me away. “No!” She quells her laughter and scowls, “No. Give it here. I don’t like people touching my knees.”

Shaking my head, I wonder why she didn’t just tell me she’s ticklish. I hand her the cloth and she carefully wipes her knees until they’re clean. I take out two square bandages and hand them to her. She places them on her knees and jumps down from the counter.

Shit. Now she actually looks like a kid. Skinned knees and all. And I feel like a prick for checking her out earlier. I know she’s not underage or anything, but firstly, it’s not professional, and secondly, I am not going there, so I shouldn’t even be thinking about her like that. I never get involved with anyone I protect. I distance myself as much as possible. It maintains a clear mind.

Boo carries over a plate full of sandwiches then excuses herself. She’s on watch until midnight, so we won’t see her again until then. As soon as Boo walks out, Rock walks in and jumps up on the counter, semi-glaring at Delilah. “You tried to knock me out, woman.”

Her eyes widen in acknowledgment. She swallows her mouthful of sandwich before she speaks. “I knew that was you in my room! What the hell was with the freaky-slow head shake? Of course I tried to knock you out, bonehead, you kidnapped me!”

“Hey now, we did that for your protection. And by the way, you might’ve connected with my face, but you’ve got a weak hook. All you did was piss me off, babe.” He grins.

“I am not weak. I’m badass.” She scowls at him. Her lips pout a little. It’s pretty damn cute. “And don’t call me babe.”

Fuck.

Rock lifts her hands high into a boxing stance. She watches wide-eyed with complete interest as he shapes her fists the way he wants ‘em. She stands taller and mimics his pose. “What you wanna do is hold ‘em high, but not right in front of your face, just high enough so you can deflect any incoming blows. You might not deflect ‘em all, but you will stop some of ‘em. So what you gotta do is…” Rock looks up at me smiling. His smile fades when he catches the look of disbelief on my face. Clearing his throat, he leans down to Delilah and says, “We’ll continue this lesson later.” And then he’s gone.

Delilah looks up at me while finishing her sandwich; she speaks around her mouthful. “Will you please stop fart-assing around and just tell me what’s going on?”

Picking up another sandwich, I bite into it and watch her. She rolls her eyes at me and nibbles at the rest of her sandwich. I have to show this girl that she can’t demand things of me. There are reasons I do things the way I do them. I do not explain myself to anyone apart from my superior, Mitch. A question sits upon the tip of my tongue, and I just can’t seem to stop myself from asking. “Why don’t you like to be called Delilah? It’s a nice name.”

She scoffs, “Yeah, right.” She swallows the last of her sandwich before picking up another. “Okay. So you know the Bible, right?” I nod. “Well, whenever we were in church and there would be reference to the story of Delilah and Samson, everyone would stare at me. And I mean everyone. Even the freakin’ priest. I didn’t like it then, and I don’t like it now. I prefer Lily.”

“What’s the big deal about that story?” I ask confused. I’m not religious but my mom is. She’d box my ears for not knowing. We were a church going family.