Page 2 of Hide Little Traitor

“For keeping a stranger safe,” I say before rounding the end and getting a better look at Chloe.

She’s in rough shape, but I can’t see anything life-threatening. I’ll have a doctor meet us when we get back to Atlanta to check her over regardless.

“I’m going to pick you up now, Chloe. Is that okay?”

Unfortunately she’s not the first battered woman I’ve dealt with over the years, and given my line of work, she won’t be the last either.

But she is the first that I have a personal attachment to, and that changes things more than I expected.

She gives a shaky nod before looking to the attendant. “Thank you,” she whispers.

“You’re welcome.” He swallows before looking up at me. “You’ll make sure she sees a doctor?”

“I will,” I assure him, carefully feeding one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back before standing and settling her against my chest.

She’s lighter than she looks, and the protective part of me is immediately desperate to feed her, even as the logical part of my mind reminds me that she likely won’t be able to eat anything substantial for a while.

Not until the shock wears off.

With one last look over my shoulder at the attendant, I make my way back to the sedan. I balance her in one arm as I open the passenger door and carefully place her inside.

I’m itching to check her over, to make sure none of the blood coating her soft skin is fresh, but not until we’re in the air.

All that matters right now is getting the fuck out of Lombardi territory.

Once she’s clipped in, I brush the matted auburn hair from her face, wiping away a fresh wave of tears that fall against her cheeks.

“You’re safe now, Chloe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The practiced words fall from my lips with ease, but I realize as I round the car that I’ve never meant them quite as much as I do this time.

CHAPTER ONE

CHLOE

NOW

Deep brown eyes that pulled me through the worst days of my life stare down at me, but I can’t find words.

My head has been swimming since I woke up with my hand in his, in an unfamiliar room and an unfamiliar bed.

What do you even say to your dad’s best friend who saved you from certain death, nursed you back to health, and then disappeared with nothing but a note and a folder of cash and documents?

Kingston seems content without speaking as he brushes his thumb over the back of my hand, finding comfort in the silence while it makes my skin itch.

“I had my personal doctor check you over. You have a mild concussion, but nothing to be worried about. I’ve been monitoring you and will continue to do so over the next few days.”

Despite it being a decade since I last saw him, the only sign that he’s aged is the flecks of silver through the dark-brown hair at his temples. I should have known Kingston Beaumont would only get better with age.

“Where are we?” I finally ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“One of my homes,” he replies vaguely.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

He nods slowly. “I do. But where we are is irrelevant.”

Pressing my eyes closed, I force steady breaths into my lungs. The worst thing I can do right now is panic, but the idea that I’ve been abducted for the second time in a week is weighing heavily on my chest.