His bare chest rose and fell unevenly. “Then what are you doing”?—he flicked a hand at the bed?—“there? How …?”
Chagrined, she scooted off the mattress. “I startled awake, saw it was dark, realized you’d never returned like you promised.” Her eyes were wide and vulnerable. “Then … I noticed Grief?—and he’s always with you. It didn’t make sense. Scared me.”
“Scared you, so the first thought was—climb in bed with Stone?” he balked, incredulous, as he slammed his arms into his shirt. “While I’m asleep! Is that how??—”
“No!” Knowing how those razor-sharp accusations would shred her, she tried to slow her racing heart. “Nothing. Happened.” Heat scratched into her cheeks. “Look.”
Calm down. He doesn’t know …
“Ladomer is swift with his vengeance. It wouldn’t be the first time he cut the throat of someone who got in the way.” Could he read between the lines? She didn’t really want to tell him about Dan. But when he didn’t respond, she knew she had no choice. “The man …” She could still see his blood everywhere…
“The bartender at the hotel where we met had … training. Knew the signs for persons being trafficked. I think he’s the one who helped Cord find me. His name was Dan Duvall. We called him Double D.” She wrung her hands, her heart feeling just as twisted. “Double D always liked me???—he was older, a friend. Not an interested party. Always said I deserved better. Anyway, one night after meeting a client, he tried to get me to leave with him. Escape.”
She touched her forehead, remembering the metallic smell of his blood all over the alley. “It was bad timing. Ladomer just happened to show up. They took us into the back alley … Double D … Ladomer killed him. For trying to help me.” She tried to shove her meaning into her eyes. “So, when Grief was with me”?—she put a hand on her heart?—“I swear I could smell blood. Came running in here. It didn’t look like you were breathing …”
Swallowing, she lowered her head. “When I realized you were, I couldn’t leave, afraid they’d kill you. I know you’re bigger and stronger, but somehow … somehow it felt like I was protecting you, too, by staying.” She swallowed. “You said you’d never let anyone hurt me again, that Grief would also protect me … and you were both in here, so it just felt safer in here.”
“This isn’t cool.” His gaze bounced to the bed and he blinked several times, angry.
No, not angry. “You’re scared.”
His gaze hit hers then ricocheted away. “God rescued me from compromising us once before. I’m doing the best I can to honor Him for that help.”
“So, being with me … God stopped you?” Her throat felt raw. Anger sprouted barbed tendrils that coiled around her heart. “Which would make sense since, to you, to Him, I’m just basically a prostitute.”
“No,” he said, his words raw and vehement. “Stop right there.”
“This”??—he stabbed a finger at the bed??—“is sacred.”
“It’s sex.”
“It’s our souls,” he said, turning to her, “entwining. It’s far more than just sex. It’s the most intimate, beautiful thing I can give you or vice versa.”
Bang-bang-bang.
The visitor at the front door was getting irritated.
But so was she. Fed up. “I … know you can’t get over my past, what I did, was forced to do, but contrary to what you think, I am not wanton or a slut?—”
“Tizzy, stop. Please.”
“?—but I didn’t come in here to seduce you.”
“I never thought that. I just?—”
More knocks.
Growling Stone flashed a palm at her. “Please, hold … that thought.” He looked down, seemed to take stock of himself and then ran a hand through his disheveled hair as he started for the door.
Realizing he intended to answer the door, Brighton hurried into the front bedroom. From the sliver of space between the jamb and the door, she watched Stone.
He drew up. “Oscar. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Boss.” The front desk manager suddenly stilled, his gaze on something. His eyebrows winged up. “Ah. Well. Very good. Question answered. I’ll get back to work.”
“What question?”
What had he seen? Brighton strained to peek into the living room and spotted Grief chewing on her bright pink hair scrunchie. Oh no.
