Chapter 2

2 All my breezy, friendly vibes vanished into thin air.

I got out of the car and slammed the door behind me.

"Reese."

I turned.

The next second, the engine roared to life.

Jake was gripping the steering wheel with one hand, his eyes locked on mine as the car barreled toward me.

Watching my pupils widen, my body freeze.

Screech! The car skidded to a halt.

The front bumper nudged my knees.

Dead stop.

My mind went blank. It felt like a bomb had just exploded in my head.

The car reversed, spun around, and pulled up beside me. Jake leaned out the window, looking up at me.

"Leave her alone."

That wasn't a request.

That was a threat.

"Ms. Reese, are you okay?"

Benny came stumbling over, his face ashen, his eyes wide with terror.

As I started to collapse, it suddenly hit me: it wasn't my imagination. He really was trying to kill me.

Jake Callahan was never one to pull his punches.

He didn't even finish high school, but he worked his way to where he is now by being ruthless - not just to other people, but especially to himself.

When I was six, my deadbeat dad used the excuse of taking me out for a fun day, to meet up with his mistress.

They were rolling around in the master suite, while Jake kept me occupied in the living room, watching Tom and Jerry.

I didn't understand the weird noises coming from the bedroom.

Curious, I asked, "Jake, what are Daddy and Auntie doing?"

He turned up the volume on the TV and covered my ears.

"Gross. Don't listen."

He was only a year older than me, but he took care of me like a pro.

Not because he loved me so much.

His mom told him that if he kept me happy, she'd give him a dollar.

That was his entire allowance for the week.

Fourteen years later, my dad ran off with his mom.

My mom went ballistic and set the house on fire.

Jake carried me out of that burning building.

He still has the scars on his arm to prove it.

He didn't have money for school, so he dropped out and got a job.

I took a baseball bat and trashed his family home. Then I paid him off $2000.

He still didn't go back to school. He took off to Washington and started buying up lumber and supplies.

He used his first earnings to buy me a princess dress.

That year I was fifteen, he was sixteen.

My mom lost her mind.

"Your father runs off with that tramp, and you still have to be with her bastard son?"

"You're just like your father. I should've strangled you when you were born!"

I guess I should have been on my mom's side.

But damn it, Jake raised me.

While my dad was busy screwing around and my mom was busy catching him in the act, I lived like a stray. Jake was the one who took care of me.

He could be covered in grime, but I had to be clean.

He could have a black eye, but no one could lay a finger on me.

He wouldn't let me tell anyone we were connected. He was afraid he couldn't protect me.

He hated it when I cried. He'd clumsily wipe away my tears.

He made me hold them back.

But when I actually stopped crying, he didn't seem all that happy about it.

"If you just cried or threw a fit, I would have given in."

"Why do you always have to fight me?"