I grin. “Rage has a thing for cats. And they for him. They love him. Big time. Of all the things to worry about, getting your cat is the least of them.”
She opens her mouth and then seems to change her mind about what she was going to say. “I really am sorry. I’m being extraordinarily difficult. I just…I don’t know what to do.” She closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. “If I’m honest, I’m hanging on by a thread right now. I just want to retreat and lick my wounds in private. I need to wrap my head around everything that’s happened, try to get back some semblance of normal.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” I reply. “You’ve been through a terrible ordeal. We just want to help.”
“And I just want to run,” she whispers. “Except I don’t know where I’d go to feel safe. Like, is Australia far enough? The Arctic Circle? Is there anywhere that I’ll ever feel safe again?”
“My place,” I blurt before I can stop myself. “I have a top-of-the-line security system. Even if the people who took you come looking, it’ll take them a while to find me or where I live.”
“Are you local?”
“No, I live in L.A. Shadow Security is located outside Temecula in Sage Canyon, so I’ve been commuting but obviously, I don’t work a nine-to-five situation so I can be based wherever. Short-term, I think that’s where you’re safest.”
I can feel Elliott’s gaze on me, see the look of disbelief in his eyes, but I ignore him. I know he’s going to give me shit but this has become personal. Her safety is up to me, and there’s no other option where I’m in control.
“Other than Daniil, maybe her dad, we don’t tell anyone,” Elliott interjects after a beat. “The fewer people who know where she is, the less chance there is for a slip-up.”
I nod even as Allora frowns. “A slip-up?”
“People talk. Someone tells their mom, who mentions it at the grocery store, and so on. Eventually, it gets back to the people we don’t want knowing where you are.”
“For how long?” she whispers.
“Until we take them down.”
An uncomfortable silence fills the room.
I can tell by the slight furrowing of her brow and the way she’s chewing the inside of her cheek, she’s mulling it all over. Which is fair. She’s been through enough, and I’d bet that she’s trying to not just figure out how to move forward, but also how to regain her power. I’ve never been sexually assaulted but I’ve been captured by an enemy and there’s very little that’s worse than losing what you perceive as your power, independence, whatever the case may be.
“Cleo has to come too,” she says finally.
I nod. “No problem.”
“I need money and access to a computer,” she says. “So, I can order a new license, stop my credit cards, stuff like that.”
“You can use mine,” I say. “For now, let’s get you a pad and pen while we wait for your discharge papers and you make a list for Elliott of things to get from your apartment.”
After a long moment, she finally nods. “Thank you.”
Then she reaches into the bag for the breakfast sandwich I brought her, unwraps it, and takes a big bite.
For some reason, that makes me smile.
Chapter Eight
Allora
By the time I get discharged it’s early afternoon, and I’m ready for a nap but I’m too wired to actually sleep. Landon helps me into his truck and then he goes in circles around the city, to make sure we’re not being followed. Once he’s convinced it’s safe, we get on the freeway and head north.
My father stopped by right before we left the hospital and gave me a thousand dollars in cash, telling me I could repay him as soon as I get access to my bank again. I know he doesn’t want the money back, but he’s aware that the only way I’ll take it is as a loan.
Dad and I are still navigating this new relationship we’ve been forging since Mom died. She was the glue that kept us together, and without her we’re struggling. The one thing about my dad is that I know he loved her. Probably more than he loves me, which is equal parts sweet and sad. She was a special woman. It’s been four years and I still reach for the phone to call her, so I can only imagine how hard it is for him.
“You okay?” Landon asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“I miss my mom,” I admit softly. “She’s been gone four years, but it still feels like yesterday that she died.”
“I’m sorry. My mom died when I was a baby so I don’t remember her, and my dad’s a mean drunk that I cut contact with a long time ago. Luckily, I have a sister, and now a brother-in-law, a nephew, and a niece on the way.”
