Forced Proximity (Bluebell House Duet Book 1)
Forced Proximity: Chapter 23

Even with the rising panic, in my peripherals I saw the approach of the tatted guy, another man who looked eerily similar to him, and a giant blond man who carried a machine gun and could have given Haze a run for his money in sheer size.

“Told you your confidence would be your downfall, Sullivan,” Tatted Guy said. “Now, as I also said, we’re not here to start a war yet. I don’t need the sort of heat your father would bring down on the Crusades, but I also think a nice lesson is in order.”

Connor’s angry expression morphed into one of boredom halfway through the speech. “What do you want?”

“You and your girlfriend here, who just saved you a bullet in the side—painful injury to recover from, trust me—need to go for a little drive. I need you out of Meadowridge for a few days while I take care of some business.”

He turned his gaze on me and ran his eyes up and down my body. “You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you. What’s your name?”

I wasn’t sure my voice would work, but I managed to stutter out Nina’s name, instinct—or maybe Connor’s brief shake of his head—telling me not to give my own away.

“Well, Nina. I need you to get in the trunk and shut the fuck up. If you do that, I won’t shoot your guy here in the knee before I dump him in there, giving you both the best chance of surviving.”

He hit a button in his hand, and with a beep, the back of his black car opened revealing a fairly tight trunk space.

“You’re making a huge mistake,” Connor growled. “I don’t care about Nina. And you’re not taking me anywhere, Elijah.”

Tatted Guy aka Elijah just shrugged. “Well, if you don’t care about her, you won’t mind if we take her for a little ride on her own then.”

My heart, already slamming in my chest, picked up pace to the next dimension. No one would have to worry about me in a second because I’d have a heart attack and die right here in front of the school.

I heard the roughly muttered fuck from Connor, and then I was shoved into the trunk, tumbling down hard and crying out as my arm slammed against the metal edge, before a boot on my stomach shoved me back even farther.

“So, what’s it to be, Sullivan?”

There was a snarl from Connor, but to my relief, he moved toward the car. I could see that his gun remained trained on them as he crossed closer and slid into the remaining space in front of me. The edge of my panic attack had me unable to breathe easily, but as his size filled the trunk and the scent of spice and cinnamon surrounded me, it got worse.

The others kept their guns pointed on us, and I wondered if this had all been a ruse to kill us once we were inside, making the disposal of bodies and evidence slightly more convenient. They looked wary though, all the way until the lid was slammed down, shrouding us in darkness.

A few seconds later, the car started, and I couldn’t contain my sobs any longer, pressing my hand over my mouth to try and choke down the panicked squeaks that wanted to escape.

I had no idea if Connor heard me or not, as he spent many minutes maneuvering his giant frame to kick out one of the taillights. He managed eventually, and then he hit the other with his fist before he stilled.

“The broken lights might lead them to getting pulled over by a highway patrol, but I wouldn’t bank on it,” he muttered, as if it annoyed him to have to explain his actions. “They disabled the release lever already, so we’re most likely stuck in here until they get to wherever they’re going.”

I’d have loved to reply, maybe ask a few questions of my own, but I was too busy hyperventilating. Connor started to move again, right as the breaths heaved in and out of my lungs, and my brain started to go foggy. He turned over to face me, and I have no idea how he managed it in the tight space.

“We’re absolutely going to fight about what happened here tonight, Evelyn,” he growled roughly, and our faces were so close that his breath washed over me with the slightest minty scent. “You’re a nosy, annoying brat, and I will figure out how to punish you for this. But that won’t work if you pass out and die right now. So I need you to calm the fuck down. Now.”

My eyes were locked on where his face would be, but I couldn’t see him in the darkness, and that had been the only thing before that kept me from panicking. Those green eyes, so like Ethan’s, and the face of a Greek god, all wrapped up in one asshole bundle.

Heavy hands gripped my face, and the pressure against my skin actually helped regulate my breathing. Especially when he started to breathe in sync with me. “That’s it, brat,” he murmured, lips so close, I swore I touched them as I inhaled deeply. “Breathe in and out.”

“I saved your life,” I choked out, my limbs trembling against him, our bodies touching everywhere in the confined space. “That’s not brat behavior.”

His lips curved, I could feel them against my cheek. “You followed me from the house, snuck around in the bushes, and got us kidnapped because you drew attention to the one weakness in my vicinity. Even if they’d shot me in the side, I’d have killed all four before I bled out. It wouldn’t be my first bullet or my last, so this is your fault, brat.”

What the fuck did I even say to that? There were no words.

“Oh,” I squeaked, at a loss for anything more profound or snappy. I was too frazzled to be cool.

Connor scoffed something that sounded a little like a laugh. “Oh, indeed.” He was silent for a moment before muttering, “Ethan’s going to kill us both when we get back to the house.”

“When?” I repeated, clinging on to the hope that one word offered. “Not if?”

He shifted his position again. Considering his size, there was no way he’d be able to get comfortable, but he seemed determined not to squish me for some reason. “When. They’re not going to kill us, brat. The Crusades can’t afford to start a war like that, they’re just messing with us to pretend they’re stronger than they are.”

“Oh,” I said again, feeling somewhat silly for interfering. Then again, the bullets they’d fired had been real, and if I hadn’t warned Connor… “Has Ethan killed people?”

Connor didn’t reply for what felt like forever, then he sighed, and his warm breath fanned across my neck. “Ask him, maybe he’ll tell you.”

I stifled a gasp. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Connor grumbled, his eye roll evident in his voice, “that although we’re related by blood, we aren’t brothers. Not like—” He cut himself off, swallowing the words he’d been about to say.

I frowned, rubbing my sore elbow in the darkness. “Like you and Andrew?” Silence. It was confirmation enough, though. “Brodie and Haze, too? You guys are all…weirdly tight, considering.”

Connor just grunted, and I suspected that was all I’d get out of him on this topic. It made me crazy curious, though. How did they all meet? What did they even have in common? And why the fuck go to such lengths to hide their friendship from the rest of the school?

“Are you thinking or panicking?” he asked after several moments of silence.

“Thinking.”

“Good. Because I’m not kissing you just to snap you out of a panic attack. Even I can recognize an abuse of power when I see it.”

Outraged, I gave him a little shove. “Excuse you. For one thing, it wasn’t an abuse of power. I kissed him the first time because I had no idea that he was a teacher.”

“Uh-huh,” Connor replied in a drawl. “But the second time he kissed you when you were in a vulnerable state and he knew you were his student. So many red flags you may as well be a bull.” He paused, then clearly decided I had no comeback to that statement. “What was the other thing?”

I frowned, despite the fact he couldn’t see my expressions. “Other thing?”

“You said ‘for one thing’ so what was the other?”

“Oh, for another thing, I wouldn’t let you kiss me even if I were about to pass out from hyperventilation.” I said it confidently and with a generous helping of indignation that he’d even suggest such a thing. What I didn’t anticipate was his response.

He fucking laughed.

“What’s so funny?” I muttered, not seeing the humor in our situation.

“You,” he chuckled, but didn’t elaborate any further.

Sulking, I pursed my lips and decided I didn’t want to chat after all. Instead, I turned my thoughts inward, to where the hell they might be taking us and how the fuck we’d get back to Meadowridge.

After what felt like hours, I must have drifted to sleep because the next thing I knew, I was waking up to Connor’s hand on my waist, squeezing me gently.

“Brat, wake up,” he whispered. “We’re here.”

My neck hurt. So did my back. Fucking hell, everything hurt, but then again what did I expect after taking a nap in the trunk of a car with a six-foot-whatever dude jammed in beside me.

“Here? Where?” I was still half-asleep. How the fuck I managed to sleep and avoid nightmares, I had no clue.

“Beats me,” he muttered back as a car door slammed and boots crunched on gravel.

Connor wriggled away, turning onto his back so that as the trunk started to open—Wham! His boot hit the lid, slamming it into the gang guy’s face and sending him flying. Connor followed the movement through, springing out of the car and landing on his feet with a fluid grace that should not have looked so natural on such a big guy.

“W-wait!” the guy stammered as I scrambled to climb out of the trunk myself, my legs weak and wobbly as the blood started to flow again.

The guy was on the ground, blood pouring from his busted nose and his hands held out in front.

Connor bent, scooping up the guy’s gun from where he must have dropped it.

“Evelyn, shut your eyes and cover your ears,” he ordered, his voice like ice.

I blinked rapidly, sweat pouring down my spine and my lungs tight as I looked from the gun to the bleeding man and back. “What? Connor, you⁠—”

“Do it, brat!” he barked, and I instantly obeyed.

Even so, there was no mistaking the near-deafening sound of a gunshot a split second later as it echoed through the trees.