My people told me they were on top of it, and it looked like they were.He’d all but faded into the background and it was only a matter of time before she moved out.Someone was even watching Hummel.How did he get in the house without my guy knowing about it?
“I don’t know.I need to search the house.”Her voice is tremulous.
“No,” I shout, and she releases a mouse-like squeak.“Shit, listen.Don’t go looking for him.Right now, with me on the phone, go into a bathroom or another room that has a lock.Somewhere you can be alone and safe.”
I want her the fuck out of there but it’s too much of a risk.If that sick fuck is still in the house, I don’t want her running into him.
“Now?”
“Now.I’ll stay on the line.Tell me once you’re there.Then I want you to call the police.”She whimpers and I sharply swallow another curse.“It’s going to be okay.I’m on my way.”
Shuffling and breathing are the only sounds I hear over the phone for a few seconds.“Okay.I’m in the bathroom.”
“Good.Now I want you to hang up and call nine-one-one right away.They’ll stay on the phone with you until the police get there.I’m leaving right now.”
She doesn’t give me another word; my ears ring with the dial tone and everything else disappears with only one task driving me forward.
The following twenty minutes, while I rush to get to her, is a terror-filled fog, unlike anything I’ve felt before.Hummel is escalating.
Fuuuck.
I race from my home without any explanation to the few guys who notice me running out the door like a mad man.Fortunately, I haven’t drunk a drop—the guys had just gotten there—and I drive my car, forgoing a driver.It would take too long and I need to feel in control.
Even if it’s an illusion.
On the way to Paige, I call my lawyer, wanting to know how the hell Hummel got into the house and worse, so close to Paige.
“Good evening, Mr.Rothwell,” Tamara says calmly in her lilting British accent, only ratcheting up my anger at the incompetence of my people.
“What the fuck happened?Hummel got into Paige Hayes’s house.Someone was supposed to be watching him!”I roar and my beast-like rage reverberates throughout the confines of my car.
“What?When did this happen?”
“Tonight.Tamara, I want answers.Now.”
“We do have him under surveillance.I don’t understand.I’ll get right on this.Have the police been notified?What do you need me to do?”
“Make it so Joel Hummel never so much as thinks about Paige.Do.Your.Fucking.Job.”
I hit the end button, still frustrated and not any closer to an explanation for tonight’s debacle.
It takes me half the usual time to get to her house, where flashing lights and police cruisers line the curb.I park behind a cop car and bound out from my Bugatti.
The front door is open and a cop stands on the porch as I stride briskly up the walkway, spotting Paige’s silhouette through the open doorway.
Her long dark hair is loose and from the looks of it, still partially damp.She’s wearing tiny purple shorts and a black tank top, and while it’s hot enough for it, I want to cover her up.
She must sense me or something because she glances over her shoulder, out the front door.Our bewildered gazes lock.
“Zach.”She says my name as if it’s a balm and the relief in her voice is undeniable.
She moves quickly in my direction yet with every step closer, she slows and finally falters only a foot or two from me.It’s like she remembers something—who I am or more aptly, who I’m not to her—and she altogether stops.
The gentle calm washing over me at the first sight of her recedes at an alarming rate, leaving a biting chill in its wake.My arms stiffen at my sides, yearning to hold her, but I manage to keep myself in check.I want to comfort her but I’m unsure as to what she’s feeling, thinking, or more importantly, what she needs.
“Are you okay?”
She nods and her chin quivers in a feeble attempt at a smile.“You came.”
