Page 44 of Swerve (Boosted Hearts 1)

I stood, and since he obviously wasn’t in the mood to discuss Scott, I asked the first question to pop into my head. “Where are we going?”

“You can’t stay with Hunter anymore. You’re staying with me.”

“But . . . Hunter said I could . . .”

“He wants to make sure his woman and son are safe. Having you there puts them at risk. They’ve been through enough already.” He opened the door. “Jude will bring your shit over later.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets. Hunter wanted me out of his place. I got that, and I knew it was for the best. I would die before letting anything happen to Lulu or Josh. But staying with Neco . . .

My gaze slid back to him. He stood in front of me like a statue, hard and unmoving, nothing coming through, no fierce emotions, not like Hunter, nothing like the way he’d looked at Lulu when he walked in. It gutted me a little bit . . . okay, a lot. Though I’d tried to tell myself sleeping in the same bed as Neco, doing whatever the hell it was we were doing, wouldn’t get to me, it had. And I hated that I still had the ability to feel pain over him, especially when he’d never offered me more than protection.

I wanted to say no. Spending more time with him was not a healthy choice for me. I was well aware of my weakness for this man, but right now, there weren’t any other options jumping out at me. I was stuck.

I crossed my arms. “That’s the last thing I want.”

“I know,” he murmured.

Nothing else needed to be said. The decision was made. Until Scott was caught, I would be living with Neco.

As I walked out into the hall, his hand went to the back of my neck, fingers curling around it in a way that could only be described as possessive. My first instinct was to shove him off, to tell him to back the hell off. He was messing with my damn head with all these touches and looks, and he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. Instead, I headed to the elevator, mindful that, despite his lack of emotion, he was worried and trying to do the right thing by me.

It was getting harder and harder to push my feelings aside to appease his, though. Something had to give, and soon. I couldn’t do this much longer.

I didn’t see anyone else in reception and I assumed Hunter had taken Lulu home.

We climbed in the elevator, walking out into the parking lot a minute later. Neco was still being quiet. I was kind of surprised how calm he seemed. Yeah, Neco could be emotionless, but that didn’t include anger. He let me know when he was unhappy, no holding back. I glanced over at him. He was close, eyes scanning the parking lot, his right hand down at his side. That’s when I realized he was holding a gun.

“You think that’s necessary?” I said, looking pointedly at the piece in his hand.

“Not risking it.” We got to his car and he opened the passenger side. “He tried to snatch you off the street in broad daylight. Fucker’s capable of anything.”

I climbed in and he shut the door after me. The driver’s door opened and he got in beside me, started up the SUV, and we tore out.

I turned to him. “Whatever is going on with Scott, I don’t think he wants to hurt me, not really . . . There’s something else . . .”

Neco turned to me eyes sharp. “He beat the shit out of you.”

“He was high, confused, agitated, I don’t know . . .”

“Are you making excuses for that fucker? Really?”

“No . . . I . . .” What? I let out a long breath and shook my head. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, what Scott was trying to do.”

“At this point, all we know is he hurt you and could do it again. That’s the part I’m focusing on.”

I didn’t reply and stared out the window. There was more to this whole thing, I just didn’t know what. All of a sudden I felt tired, exhausted. I had almost fully recovered from my injuries, despite a few remaining bruises. I’d managed to cover most of them on my face with makeup, but I knew they were there. Evidence of my weakness, my damned stupidity. The fact that I’d placed my trust in the wrong person. So no, I wasn’t making excuses for Scott. I despised the creep, but I got the feeling he was worried about me in his own fucked-up way, or at least wanted to warn me about something. At the apartment before he attacked me, then again earlier today, he’d said it wasn’t safe, emphasizing that we had to go, we had to get away. Could be the ravings of a paranoid drug addict on the edge, or it could be something more . . .

I dropped my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes. If I could’ve wished myself away in that moment, I would have. What the hell was wrong with me that people wanted to shit on me all the time? My stepmother had done her best to cut me down, from a very young age. To her I was worthless, and she wanted me to know it. I’d worked so hard to erase her cruel words, the awful things she’d put me through, to convince myself that I wasn’t what she said I was, that I was strong . . . that I was more. But then I’d gone and run around after Neco like a fool. He’d been stuck with me for years. His pathetic little shadow.

Jesus. I wanted to run as hard and as far as I could, but I was trapped. He was stuck with me again, until this mess was sorted out. My mess. A mess that he would have to clean up for me—again.

I glanced over at him, at the way his thick, long fingers gripped the steering wheel, the way the veins and tendons stood out, the way his biceps bulged and jumped as he drove. I lifted my gaze to his throat, his jaw, the way his nostrils flared and his eyes blazed . . . with white-hot rage.

I jolted.

Okay. I’d been wrong. Neco wasn’t calm, not at all. He was furious. Then I felt it, throbbing through the car, heavy and thick. Violence. The kind that was capable of the most terrifying acts, the kind that if you ever found yourself in the presence of it, you wouldn’t walk away. You’d run.

“Neco,” I whispered.