I freeze in my bed, heart hammering. I immediately reach for my blanket and pull it up to my nose. I gulp in hot air from underneath it, my heart hammering in fear.
There’s a lot of noise in an apartment building. People, families, other lives being lived. I’ve been here for the past five and a half years, and I’ve never heard that sound before.
I know what it was.
It sounded like locks disengaging from the door. That’s impossible, given that I didn’t unlock them. The building manager has a key, but he wouldn’t come in here. He’d call first.The chain lock is on. Is it really that easy just to open the door and swish it aside?
I grasp my phone and try to punch in the digits to call the police. I want to race to my bedroom door and shut it, but it doesn’t lock. Even if it did, whoever is in here just picked three locks on the main door. A fourth might buy me a few seconds, but it won’t save me.
There’s no staying calm. Terror dumps into my bloodstream, icy cold and boiling hot. I’m instantly drenched in sweat. My thumb works woodenly across the phone screen, punching in a nine, then the one, and another one. I put the call through and grab the lamp off the nightstand, yanking the cord out of the wall. It’s not much, but at least I can say that I didn’t go down without a fight.
Thistime.
Surprisingly, that only spurs me on. For once, what happened to me doesn’t narrow the world down to nothing. I’m not going to pass out. If anything, I’m too rational. I’m right here, alert in my body, waiting.Waiting. Why won’t the damn police come on the damn line?
Finally, though it feels like a million years later, a woman’s nasal tone blasts across the phone. “911, what’s your emergency?”
I’m about to tell her that there’s someone in my apartment, when a hulking black shadow rounds the corner of my room. A big hand snakes around the doorframe and flicks on the light.
Maverick.
I almost can’t believe that I’m not dreaming all of this, but no. He’s really here. I can smell him—fresh air, cedar, leather, even though he’s not wearing a jacket, and burnt oil. He’s dressed in black cargo pants, a black t-shirt, and those black shitkicker boots. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, muscles popping out all over, shoulders so damn broad, the whole bit testing that t-shirt’s limits to the max. Very slowly, a cocky, lopsided grin slides across his beautiful lips.
He takes my breath away.
Not with fear.
With sheer disbelief.
“Sorry,” I tell the dispatcher, though it might be a mistake. “I thought I heard someone in my apartment, but it’s nothing. There’s no one here. I panicked. I’m so sorry again.”
She grumbles out something and hangs up. I clasp the phone and my lamp tightly, not willing to surrender either potential projectile.
“Loreena.”
I do a doubletake at the way my name rolls off his tongue. It’s exactly like the first time. I’m magnetized. I thought everything about him was beautiful, from the way he looked, to the way he spoke.
I know that Maverick is not a stupid man, so what on earth is he doing here?
“Breaking and entering is illegal. Trusting me not to call the cops right now and send you back to jail isn’t a good game plan.”
“You said that if I could find a way to help you, that you’d try.”
I gape at him. “You broke into this building and then into my apartment to tell me something you could have just texted?”
“I’m not here to tell you. I’m here to show you.”
My stomach flips inside out with how ominous that sounds. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re going to come with me. I can help you.”
Uh, what the actual fuck? “I’m not going anywhere with you. If I leave here, I’ll die.”
“You won’t die.”
“You have no real idea about me.” I shake my head frantically and scoot up the bed. I perch atop my pillows, squashing them down while I ram my back against the headboard. “You just found out about me a few days ago. Don’t tell me that you’ve done years’ worth of revolutionary research since then. You can’t accomplish what other doctors have failed to do. These are people with twenty and thirty years of experience working with agoraphobic people!” I’m starting to grow frantic. It’s in my voice and the way the words slur together. “You need to leave. I’m not going to phone the police, but this can’t happen again. Maybe it would be a good idea if we took some time.”
“We’re not taking time. You’ve had enough of that already. We’re doing thistonight. I’m getting you out of here.”
