Addison
ABOUT TWO HOURS after Asher left me to head to my apartment, I said good-bye to the final dinner guest and stood in the doorway watching the street. I still had no word on whether or not Dylan had been found, if she was safe, nothing. My outgoing texts to both Asher and Jake were reaching stalker levels, but they’d gone unanswered.
My limo pulled up. I leaned back inside the buildingto tell Stacy I was leaving, and when I headed out, almost ran into Jake. His bow tie had been removed, he’d unbuttoned the top buttons on his shirt, and his previously styled hair was disheveled.
“Did you find her?” I demanded.
“Yeah, she’s at the hospital.”
I gasped. “Is she okay?”
“She got shot, but—”
“Shot?” I screamed. “Where is she?” My stomach sank. If she was okay he would have textedme, but instead he was here in person to tell me the news. Fearing the worst, my hand flung to my mouth and tears clouded my eyes.
Jake caught me and pulled me close. “Sweetheart, she’s fine. Minor flesh wound. She’s getting stitched up as we speak.”
“Take me to her right now.”
He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my temple. “Just give me a second, okay?”
I forced back tears. “I reallyneed to see Dylan.”
“I know, Addison, and you will, but let me hold you for a minute.”
“I don’t need a hug.”
“But I do,” he admitted, stroking my back.
I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, his cologne both a comfort and a turn-on. As he held me, I relaxed a little, the tension of the night releasing just a bit.
“She’s really okay?” I asked.
“Yeah. Let’s take you to the hospitalso you can see for yourself,” he said, and wrapped an arm around my waist.
“I have the car,” I said.
