Free TAG by Shari J. Ryan Page A

is tense and my pulse is palpitating in my ears. He needs to move. I need to escape. I need to be free.
    “Carolina, you can’t call your dad.” He drops his arms from the threshold of the door, giving me the illusion he might let me by. “He won’t pick up his phone.” He moves forward, but I don’t step back. I won’t be intimidated by him. “When is the last time he picked up your call?”
    Not once. In three years. We text when he sends me a working phone number. Sometimes h e calls to check in, but not since he set me up with this WWE-looking bodyguard.
    I disregard his question.
    “Let me by.” I step forward, leaving less than a foot between us. Most people would laugh if they saw me trying to intimidate this very tall and built man, compared to my five-foot-three self, but I know how to incapacitate him with one move.
    But he doesn’t move. His head remains straight, but his eyes lower to my face. “You need to stay with me for your own safety,” he says, staring into my eyes intently.
    “I don’t need to do shit,” I argue. I drop my bags and take the remaining step before popping my leg out and curling it behind his knee. I simultaneously twist my hand around the collar of his shirt and jerk him forward. His legs give out, and he falls to his knees. He lets out a loud cough, a painful sounding one. And for a second I think I actually hurt him. Remorse sets in quickly, since I didn’t expect to actually do any damage. “Feel better?” he asks, looking up at me. He coughs again and nearly folds in half from the deep fight within his lungs. He clears his throat and looks up me. “If you were smart—” He clears his throat again. “You would have moved me from my position if you really wanted to get by me. But now, I’m still here, only lower to the ground, and I doubt you can jump over my head.”
    Bastard. He’s right. I’m losing my mind. I can’t even think of a response.
    “Carolina, please stop.” He pulls in a deep struggling breath before looking up at me again. “Your dad is not in the CIA anymore. He stole something when he was on a mission in China three years ago. He’s been on the run ever since then. There are a number of people who are after him, and you for that matter,” he adds, as if scripted.
    My heart stops beating, and my mind starts racing. Know everyone . . . trust no one. Even Dad.
    “How do I know you aren’t lying?” I sound powerless. I sound as if I’ve lost control.
    I have lost control.
    He stands up and steps away from the door, leaving it free and clear. But I don’t leave. “Carolina, come here away from the door. We don’t need anyone hearing this shit.” He waves me into the kitchen, and my body obeys before my mind does.
    I drop down into a bar stool and let my head fall onto my folded arms. “Where is he?” I mumble into my sleeve.
    “You don’t know, do you?” his voice grows behind me as he moves in closer.
    I snap my head up and twist my body around on the stool to face him. “No, Tango. My mother is dead, my sister was fucking murdered, and I thought my dad was in the CIA. They’ve all left me in a world where everyone wants to screw me over or kill me.” I feel hot tears piercing the back of my eyes. I will not cry. I’m done crying. I shouldn’t have any tears left. I pull in short spurts of shallow breaths until I regain my composure.
    He slouches down in front of my stool. “Hey,” he says, looking up at me. “You were put in this situation. It isn’t your fault. But you do need to be protected. If you don’t want it to be me, I can call someone else. Just say the word, and I’ll be gone. I don’t want to make this harder on you.” He places his hand on my knee for comfort. Not hostility. Like a friend would do. I like his touch. It’s warm. It’s a feeling I haven’t felt since Reaper touched me. “Honest.”
    I swallow my pride, and it goes down like a rusty nail. I don’t want to deal with a new guard. I