Zane’s lips twitched. “A good date?”
“Pretty good.”
Zane frowned. That wasn’t convincing. “You gonna go on another?”
“I haven’t decided. I should. She’s nice.”
Nice? That one word told Zane everything. It wasn’t going anywhere. “You should give her a chance.” Ethan rarely dated.
“I should.” He sighed. “I should go.”
“Thanks for keeping an eye on everything.”
“I’m on your side, always.”
Zane hung up and scrubbed a hand over his mouth. Monty was being transferred. It would be fine. Prisoners were transferred all the time. This was just a small change.
He’d just put the glass in the sink when banging sounded on the door.
Was that Bonnie? He shot a glance at the time. It had only been half an hour.
He moved to the door and looked through the peephole. A string of curses fell from his mouth at the fear on her face. He yanked it open. “What’s wrong?”
Her chest heaved and her face was so pale there was barely a scrap of color in it. She glanced down the hall to her apartment, then back to him. “There was…I…I can’t…”
“Hey.” He stepped into the hall and placed a hand on the small of her back. “It’s okay. Come inside.”
She moved inside his apartment, but before following, he glanced down the hall.
Empty.
Once the door was locked, he turned back to her. “Bonnie, what—” He stopped, eyes narrowing on the red staining her hands. The fuck? “Are you hurt?” He gripped her wrists and lifted her hands, searching for injuries.
She shook her head, fingers shaking. “No. It’s…it’s not my blood.”
“Whose is it?”
“I ordered a pizza from Burt’s and it was left at my door, but there was…”
“You’re safe, Bon. Deep breaths.”
Her chest rose and fell before she looked at him again. “There was a decapitated mouse in the box. And there was blood everywhere.”
The son of a bitch. Zane was going to tear the fucker apart with his bare hands. But first, he needed to take care of Bonnie.
Gently, he gripped her hips and led her down the hall. In the bathroom, he stood behind her at the basin and turned on the water, making it warm. Then, gently, he guided her hands under the stream.
As the water turned crimson, he felt that thing again. Not anger. This was darker. This clawed at his insides, almost making him shake with the need to hurt the person who’d hurt Bonnie.
With soap on his fingers, he ran his hands over her palms, making sure every inch of her skin was clean.
Her entire body shook, and it sharpened every instinct in him with this unbearable need to fix this. Protect her. Guard her.
Once the water ran clear, he grabbed a towel and dried her hands before leading her into his bedroom. She sat at the foot of the bed while he grabbed one of his sweatshirts. There was a smear of blood on hers, and he couldn’t fucking look at it without feeling like he was going to explode.
He crouched in front of her. “Lift for me, honey.”
She lifted her arms. He tugged the sweatshirt over her head, barely looking at the soft skin pressing at her lacy bra. This wasn’t about sex. All he cared about was making sure Bonnie was okay.
