chapter 14

The blood on the EMT's hands flash in my mind, and it only takes seconds for my brain to register the fear. The suite bedroom closet isn't exactly tight quarters, but I throw myself in there anyway. At least there's a door that closes even if there isn't a single thing in here to use for protection against an intruder.

The knocking stops, but less than ten seconds later, the door to the suite whooshes open. I'm on the verge of a heart attack, whimpering and terrified when a shadow crosses in front of the door. It fades away only to return a few seconds later.

I screech when it's tugged open, burying my head in my bent knees and trying to prepare myself for the worst. I don't know shit about survival or how to defend myself. I only attended one of the self-defense classes my dad wanted me to take in college because I ended up with bruises on my legs after that one session. There was no way I was going to walk around campus looking like I had been beaten. I'm regretting that decision now.

"What in the hell are you doing?"

I snap my face in Dean's direction, expecting from his tone that he's going to call me an idiot, but he must see the fear in my eyes because he closes his mouth and stands outside the closet door.

No doubt he's still pissed, his default for as long as I've known him, but there's a flash of sympathy in his eyes as well. I nearly bristle with the look he's giving me but bite my tongue instead. I don't want him to leave again, and I know opening my mouth to tell him he's an asshole for scaring me would increase that chance.

"Get in the bed and get some rest." He walks away, and I find him standing in the middle of the living room looking out onto the Gateway Arch when I gather enough courage to leave the closet.

"It's pretty, isn't it?"

I've always taken the architecture in St. Louis for granted. It's always just been there. Yeah, I've ridden on the tram to the top and looked out the tiny windows way up in the sky, but that was more for the video and for social media, the ability to mark it off some contrived list of experiences. I didn't take a moment to enjoy the actual beauty of it. Somehow though, the sight of the Arch, which right now includes Dean's reflection in the window glass, is an absolute thing of beauty.

"You bitched the entire time we were up there," he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest and spreading his legs. He doesn't bother to turn around and face me directly.

How could I forget that Dona, he, and I did that together? Hell, we did everything together despite our contempt of the other. Dona was our North Star. We were both pulled to her, spending nearly every waking moment we could with her. Thinking back, I can't even remember when the shift started to happen, when she was more interested in doing things for herself than spending time with me and him.

"Get some sleep, Anna. I'm waiting for some information. I'll stay here until it comes in."

Since it doesn't seem like he wants to take a trip down memory lane, I turn and walk away without another word, kicking the ridiculous sneakers off my feet before climbing in the bed. After a few minutes, I realize just how uncomfortable my dress is, so I toss back the covers and tug it off over my head, tossing it to the floor. I don't turn off the lights in the room, but I can't imagine sleeping at a time like this.

A guy was shot, my apartment was ransacked, and Dona can't be found.

Was she abducted? Are they going to want a ransom?

With the financial trouble she's in, that means her dad is suffering too. He probably wouldn't be able to pay, but even though my own parents aren't Dona's biggest fans, I know they wouldn't let her be hurt over money.

What if Dean doesn't find her in time? What if something happened to her long before tonight?

A shiver rolls down my arms remembering how she didn't answer her door the other day. How she missed the annual Star Light Gala last week. She loves that event and hasn't missed one since its inception ten years ago.

"Dean!"

It only takes seconds before he's standing inside the room. I swallow, the lump of fear lodged so deep in my throat I don't know if I'll ever be able to speak again. Tears burn the backs of my eyes, but I do everything I can to keep them from falling. I know he's tired of me, tired of seeing me cry, tired of having to even be near me, but somehow, he's still a comfort to me.

"I-I don't want to be alone," I croak.

His eyes dart from the sheet clutched to my chest to the empty spot beside me on the bed, and then he looks physically sick at the thought of crawling under the same blankets with me.

Instead of crossing the room to join me, he walks to the chair in the small seating area and sits down, pulling out his phone and ignoring me. Overlooking the small wave of disappointment washing over me, I watch him. What did I think? That he was going to join me, wrap his arms around me and tell me everything was going to be okay?

"Thank you for helping me," I say, my eyes still glued to his stupid handsome face.

He merely grunts like a caveman rather than bothering with actual words.

"I know you hate me."

His jaw clenches, but he still doesn't look up from his phone.

It seems like an eternity before he speaks.

"I don't hate you."

Liar.

I don't believe him, but then his shoulders relax, and he looks calmer than I think I'll ever feel again.

Nope. He's telling the truth. He doesn't hate me. He's indifferent to me, and that hits me harder. We no longer had a forced connection until I called him and dragged him right back into Dona's whirlwind of drama.

I doze off watching him, but immediately begin to dream of being in the condo when whoever it was came inside. They were a blur, a face covered in a ski mask, but terrifying, nonetheless.

I wake with a gasp, hot tears already rolling down my cheeks.

I'm near the point of having what feels like a panic attack, something that I've never before suffered from when Dean's huge frame fills my vision.

Surprisingly gentle hands cup both sides of my face, and he forces my chin up until I'm looking in his bright, blue eyes. His thumbs skate over my cheeks, wiping my tears away.

"Shh. You're fine. You're safe. You know that, right?"

I nod my head as much as I can manage with his grip on my face.

"I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. Understand?"

I nod again, my focus drifting to his mouth as he says the words. Lips too pink and perfect to belong on any man's face are less than a foot away from mine, and I'm entranced by them.

"Go back to sleep," he whispers, showcasing his perfect teeth.

All I can do is nod in answer, hating that he releases me and goes back to the chair across the room.