Phoenix grabbed my arm and yanked me to the corner of the room.
“Get down.Now.”His voice was strong, but calm.
I nodded incessantly, sinking into the corner of the kitchen.
An old, familiar place.
The corner of the kitchen… rain against the windows… my purple nightgown. Flashbacks of that night raced as I huddled in the corner and hugged my knees to my chest. My entire body began to tremble.
I watched Phoenix sweep the room, then step outside, onto the deck, as I sat there like a useless idiot.
Do something, Rose.
911.
I felt around in my pocket, then remembered I left my phone in the car. Screw this, I thought as I pushed to a stance. Thunder rumbled as I stepped outside, into the pouring rain, and my own nightmare.
“Get inside.”Phoenix yelled, but the words didn’t register.
Lightning streaked the sky as I stumbled backwards, gripping the door frame for balance as I stared down at the body on the deck. Wearing the same vintage T-shirt as earlier, Andrew’s dead, rain-soaked body lay face-down on the wooden slats. One arm was tucked under his body, the other splayed to the side as if he were hailing a cab. His knees were bent awkwardly, with bare feet at the bottom of dark denim jeans. It was absurd, my first thought was that his feet must be cold and that I should get a blanket for him.
Phoenix kneeled and slowly lifted the side of Andrew’s body.
I’ll never forget it. The way his arm dragged with the pull, the limpness of his torso swaying againstPhoenix’s grip.
And the blood. My God, the blood. The pool of shiny, dark red pooling beneath his body. His shirt was saturated, the colorful swirls of what was once a Beatles T-shirt faded into a solid red stain of blood.
So muchblood.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
As if in slow motion, Andrew’s head lobbed to the side, his glazed-over eyes staring blankly into the rain, his jaw slack as if he were in mid-scream. The left side of his head was matted in blood and as gravity took its final movement, a flap of skin separated from his face, showcasing a laceration that sliced all the way to his ear, leaving it dangling by strings of skin.
Bile rose to my throat and I propelled myself backward, stumbling into the kitchen and falling to the ground inches from a brown, paper bag—the same one I delivered the teddy bear in.
My eyes widened as I grabbed it and ripped it open.
Empty.
I frantically searched the room. But there was no bear, no video camera, anywhere.
Nothing.
I looked back at Andrew on the deck, his ear dangling in the wind.
Then, I turned and vomited all over my Louboutins.
18
ROSE
Iwatched from the passenger seat of my SUV as the chaos unfolded around me. Blue and red lights sparkled in the rain, bouncing off the trees, the cars, the brick house in front of me. Andrew’s front yard was scattered with Berry Springs’ finest, both uniformed and plainclothes. And then there was Phoenix, towering over all of them by at least four inches, somehow looking more menacing than those with guns and cuffs at their hips. I watched his movements, the squared shoulders, tight jaw, steely look in his eye as he addressed the other men. The guy had a confidence—an authority—that seemed as innate to him as breathing. It was a side to him I hadn’t seen. Yet another layer to the complexity that was Phoenix Steele.
I watched as his gaze flickered again to mine, as it had done countless times since he’d held me while I’d vomited all over his cowboy boots, then carried me to the car, wrapped me in his leather jacket, and turned the heater full blast. He’d found a bottle of water somewhere, and then after making me promise I was okay, he called 911 and took care of business.
The man I watched was strong, efficient, capable. The opposite of what his medical file read. Even then, the side-long glances from the officers, the whispers when he turned his back, were obvious. It was apparent everyone knew each other, as was common with most small towns, and it was also apparent that Phoenix didn’t give a crap about their continued glances at him. But I knew he’d noticed.
He’d tucked his gun into his boot before the first cop car had arrived. I was worried that they’d frisk him, but they didn’t, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was because they didn’t want to face his wrath once they placed their hands on him. Or, if they were simply scared of him, as so many people seemed to be.
