Fucking suffocating.
My hands ball into tight fists when my fingers twitch with the urge to touch her. Reason and instinct battle inside my head. One sayswait, the other screamshelp her.
Each distressed whimper hits me like Tyson’s right hook.
It’s maddening and I’m so fucking grateful I can’t see her face. If I saw the terror I’m certain is in her eyes, I’d be with her by now. I’d jeopardize the task and risk Rhett’s life.
I’d riskmylife.
Maybe even Hailey’s.
All to hold her. Calm her. Bethere for her.
Time slows, drags like a dead weight. Every second’s an eternity. I’m so engrossed in Hailey, so consumed by the whirlwind of emotions running rampant inside me that I almost miss her head jerk.
It’s barely noticeable, but feels monumental.
Her breathing slows, her whimpers soften, and three heartbeats later, she sits up, shaking all over. She tangles her fingers in the comforter, her face bathed in the moonlight.
Tears stain her cheeks, the sight halving my lung capacity. For a fleeting moment, the world shrinks to her pain and my struggle before she slowly, like a mechanical doll, gets out of bed, her knees bending stiffly for the short distance to the bathroom.
She grabs the handle, flicks the light on and steps inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
Thank fucking God.
Leaning my head back against the wall, I let out a slow, measured breath, a storm of emotions raging within.
This was supposed to be easy. Get in, extract the information Rhett needs, and get out, but Hailey, with her pretty face, smarts, vulnerability, and raw emotions, quickly became a complication I hadn’t anticipated.
A complication I don’t fucking need.
The sound of running water from the bathroom mingles with Hailey’s continued soft sobs. My ears perk up, catching and magnifying every sound she makes.
I’m stalling...
Time to leave.
One silent step at a time I leave the room and don’t stop until I’m all the way outside, leaning against the wall, the cold, biting air a welcome distraction from Hailey’s inexplicable magnetism.
Her sobs, those whimpers, the fear... every sound she made is a small rubber ball without aim, knocking about my head, stirring my violent streak.
This isn’t part of the plan.
Caringisn’t part of the fucking plan.
Yet, here I am, flexing my fingers, itching to kill whatever caused her pain. Her past, the nightmare, tangible or not, it should fucking suffer...
Then again, I should want her to suffer. Why am I fighting on the wrong team?
24
Carter
Why am I here?
I promised myself I wouldn’t show up and told Hailey the same thing. I was desperate to stay locked in my room, but the minute I saw her walking around the lake with Chloe, Rachel, and the dead man walking—Jensen—I knew my resolution wouldn’t last.
Ishouldn’tbe here. I shouldn’t be roaming this throng of sweaty bodies moving to the bass from the speakers strategically placed around the perimeter. Ishouldn’tgive a fuck who Hailey’s dancing with or how much she had to drink.
