Free Rules of Protection (Tangled in Texas) (Volume 1) by Alison Bliss Page B

said with a laugh. “You keep getting hurt. You even smashed your finger in the motel room. Any other injuries I need to know about?”
    I didn’t tell him I almost shit my pants when he pointed the gun at me in the kitchen. That would’ve hurt, but only my pride. “I think that covers most of them.”
    “Maybe I should ransom you off to Frankie Felts. You might stand a better chance of escaping injury with him than you have so far with me.”
    He was kidding, but his words made my heart stop and my stomach churn with queasiness. The psychological implication of being abandoned weighed on me, making me wonder what would happen if Felts found me. Then I made the mistake of wondering how I’d die. Maybe I should’ve listened to Jake when he said I didn’t want to know how the other witnesses had died. I had pressed him to tell me, but now I regretted it.
    My mind tapped into the residual memories of the past twenty-four hours, and the sharp crack of reality split me in two as vivid pictures flashed through my head. Sergio’s death replayed automatically, the images standing tall and casting a shadow over the more pleasant thoughts I conjured. Like him, I’d be dead. No gray area, just the black and white of it all. I’d been marked. Frankie Felts would do everything in his power to make sure I didn’t live much longer.
    Then I made the mistake of imagining my cold, lifeless body lying in a cornfield. The image overwhelmed me, making me numb, as my eye twitched uncontrollably. I couldn’t take it anymore. My pulse raced, and my breathing deepened until my lungs stopped functioning properly. I hyperventilated in rapid succession until everything around me distorted.
    I don’t remember Jake pulling the car over, but he must’ve. I stood on the side of the road, doubled over, as my chest convulsed with spasms. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t in between all of the sobs bubbling in my throat. Wracked with fear, I became practically inconsolable.
    “Don’t panic,” Jake whispered, trying to soothe me as he rubbed his hand on my back. “Take deep breaths.”
    It felt dreamlike, as if all of this had happened to someone else. I’d watched Oprah enough times to know the ugly cry wasn’t attractive on anybody. Yet, I was on the side of the road doing just that.
    Jake stood close with his arm around my shoulders, wrapping me in comfort and security, as well as compensating for my unbalanced posture. I was a crumbling mess under his hands. He tried to smooth over my rough edges, a further distance than the wheels of responsibility should’ve taken him. It was bad enough he saddled himself with the impossible, foolhardy task of keeping me alive—something he’d barely been able to do.
    “I…I’m fine,” I choked out, not wanting him to see me this way. “Leave me alone.”
    Jake grimaced. “Bullshit. Emily, I can plainly see you’re not fine. Tell me what I can do.”
    He may be responsible for my physical well-being, but my mental state wasn’t something he should have to deal with. It angered me that he looked at me with his eyes full of pity. “For one thing, stop calling me Emily.”
    “It’s your name.”
    “No, it’s not!” I shrieked. “My name is—”
    “Not anymore, it isn’t. Your name is Emily, even if I have to beat it into your head before I’m through with you. Now get in the car.”
    Never one for following orders, I resented Jake for issuing one. Annoyed by his demand and in the middle of a nervous breakdown, I underwent a mental time-out and said the first stupid thing that came to mind. “I hope the FBI has an extra-large dildo because all of you can go fuck yourselves.”
    I angled past him, walking away from the car, but Jake snatched me up before I could get far. “Don’t be stupid. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
    I didn’t answer him. In fact, I was careful not to look at his face until he stuffed me in the passenger seat of the Explorer. He stood there