My head thumps from stress and the lack of sleep, but I go back to mixing the ingredients of the omelets, then put one in the oven.
Elena walks over and sits on a stool, her elbows leaning on the counter. “Mom doesn’t believe me. She thinks you’re here.”
I pause before pushing the dish all the way in. I grab the other dish and put it on the lower shelf. I shut the oven door, then turn to look at her.
Elena’s hands come up. “I can’t believe she believes him over me... Even though I am lying... still.”
“I’m not surprised.” I fold the tea towels and put them to the side. “He is persuasive.”
“Maybe someone saw you shopping that day with Viper.”
“I don’t know anyone in this area but you and Axle, but I guess someone could have.”
She shakes her head. “Axle should be home soon, so I’ll talk to him about what we should do next. I don’t want Mom and Dad turning up.”
“I need some air. Can you check the omelets and take them out when they are golden brown on top?”
“I can do that.”
“Golden brown, not black,” I clarify.
She huffs. “Yes, I hear you. Don’t worry, we will get all of this Beau stuff sorted.”
I’m not as confident as she is. I walk toward the back of the house, open the back door, and step outside. My eyes close at the warmth from the sun, and I try to take deep breaths to calm down.
A whine draws my attention, and when I look down, Conan’s glancing at me, nudging my leg. I pat his head and lean down until I’m sitting on the ground. I don’t care that the small rocks dig into my skin or that the ground is hard. The weight of helplessness takes over. My hands cover my face as the tears fall.
Conan nudges me again with his gigantic head, then wetness travels up my cheek. I pull my hands away from my eyes to see Conan lean in and lick my face again. My chest warms as I cuddle him.
Rumbling motorcycles approach. Conan pulls away and barks, rushing toward the front of the house. I wipe my eyes with my hands and stand. Sniffling, I try to pull myself together. The last thing I want is for someone to see me crying.
I wander to the table and sit on the wooden bench. I wipe my eyes and cheeks again. The sound of the motorcycles gets louder. I listen closely as one motorcycle after another turns off. My throat tightens. Twitch will tell them everything. My mouth goes dry and my anxiety spikes. I should pack before I get made to leave. Save myself the embarrassment.
Making my way inside, I rush through the house and up the stairs before anyone can see me. Once in my room, I pick up my bag and open it wide. I grasp my clothes folded neatly on the bed, then place them in the bag. The men’s voices get louder, and my heart beats faster.
I tense. Heavy footsteps stop in front of my room. The door is open, so I know he can see me, but I’m frozen. He gets closer until his presence looms behind me. My eyes squeeze shut, and I flinch when his arms wrap around me. His hands rest on mine, and he pulls my hands away from the bag ever so gently and pulls me into him.
With his warmth behind me, his calming presence and the caring nature of his hug break something inside of me. I sag into him and the tears come fast. He pulls me into him tighter as I sob. My body trembles, and I can no longer hold myself up. His arm comes underneath my thighs, and he picks me up with ease. He lays me on the bed and pulls the duvet over me.
He leans down, brushing the hair out of my eyes. The gesture makes me cry again, and his frown deepens. When he sits on the bed, it dips beside me. “We will keep you safe. There’s no reason for you to run.”
I take in the gorgeous man next to me. “Can you stay with me? I don’t want to be alone.”
He takes his boots off, shuts the door, and walks back. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and it lights up. He types on it and then places it on the nightstand, pulls his gun out and sets it next to his phone. His belt and holster are next, then he sits on the duvet before lying down next to me and pulling me into his chest.
“I called my contact who is a police officer in the local district.” His voice rumbles. “I told him to inform the department in charge of missing persons you will come in today to tell them you are okay and to explain why you left.”
I shake my head at him. “I can’t do that.”
He shuffles back and lifts my chin to meet his eyes. “Tell me why.”
I glance away, breaking eye contact.
He waits a moment for me to answer, then sighs. “Can you go there to show them you are okay?”
He didn’t get angry or push for me to tell him, which I appreciate, but it’s confusing, and my silence was almost loud.
“Being away from him seems too good to be true.” My heart sinks. “I’m a coward, but...” My lip trembles. “I can’t shake the feeling that I’m going to be forced to go back to him, and if I go back, telling the cops about what he has done will make it worse.” Memories of Beau saying sorry when he saw the bruises from when he had hit me flood back, but it wasn’t long after he threatened me not to tell anyone.
