She couldn’t imagine not raising her daughter. Being trapped here while Emmy was forced to live with someone else. A stranger.
“Laine,” he boomed, his voice rough and almost angry. “I’m not fucking leavin’ you there. Got it? Get that shit outta your head. Have what you need ready. Pack light. Only the itemsyou and your daughter can’t live without. Don’t worry about anything else.”
Relief made her hang her head. “Okay.”
“Can I call you back at this number?”
“No! No,” she said again, more calmly. “A friend let me use her phone. I’m at her house right now.”
“Okay. My team and I will be there in a day or two. Until then, hang in there, Lainie. I’ve got you.”
Bang,bang,bang
Laine gasped, gripping the phone.
“Open the door!” Cameron’s voice roared over the stone bathroom.
“I have to go,” she said, hurrying to stand. Panic made her movements clumsy and her voice shake.
“Is he there?” Menace infused Roarke’s words.
“Please be careful,” she whispered, then hung up.
More impatient knocks pounded the wood. The device burned her hand. Oh god. If he found the phone, he’d kill her.
She lifted the tank of the toilet and dropped the device inside, then secured the lid. She’d have to apologize to Aisha. She opened the pocket door and raced across the floor. “I’m coming.”
The handle rattled.
She unlocked the door. Before she could brace herself, the wood swung inward, nearly knocking her to the floor.
Cameron’s wild eyes landed on her before scouring the bathroom. “What the hell are you doing?”
She blinked, feigning surprise. “I had to use the washroom. The downstairs one is out of order?—”
He brushed past her and went to the vanity. He yanked open the cupboards.
Sweat dampened the back of her neck. She wrung her hands in front of her. “Cameron, please. What’s going on? I’m confused.”
He went to the door closing off the toilet. Her pulse raced, and her temples throbbed with each beat. She followed, nausea acidic at the back of her throat. He looked around the tiny, nearly empty room. Moving the rack holding the toilet paper, he ignored her. He went to the toilet.
Oh god. Oh god.
“Is everything all right?” Aisha said, entering the washroom. “I hope that toilet didn’t die, too.” She harumphed.
Cameron straightened. The enclosed area became increasingly small. If she backed up a few inches, she could slam the door on him and run, but she wouldn’t make it far. His lip curled, as he moved away from the toilet.
Laine and Aisha backed up.
“Leave us a moment, please, Aisha.” His tone was cool and disapproving, but he wouldn’t outright disrespect Saif’s wife—even if he suspected she was involved.
“I’ll wait downstairs,” she said.
Laine kept her gaze down, not daring to look at Aisha and give Cameron even a shred of doubt regarding her friend. The sound of Aisha’s soft, retreating footsteps was like a nail in her coffin.
Cameron moved into her personal space, backing her up against the wall. His rough hands ran over her tunic and slid beneath the material to skim over her breasts and bra.
Disgust mixed with fear made a deadly cocktail. When he reached the waistband of her linen pants, she jerked out of his reach. It’d been over six months since he touched her sexually. He’d made it clear they wouldn’t be intimate in his hometown until they were married.
