“I’d venture Cole glossed over it because he wants you to tell him about it.”
Damn him.
My eyelids fall into a glare.
With everything I know about Cole, Track is right, and the pressure around my lungs increases. It would all be so much easier if he’d backed away in disgust at the melted skin. If his hands had faltered and slowly inched away, no longer wanting to touch me.
But that’s not what he did, and that’s what’s literally suffocating my insides. His fingers remained gentle and sure. Then, he snuggled me inside his clothes and surrounded me with his body.
My stomach twists, attempting to wring itself of everything foreign.
Tracker must see it and sits forward again, his voice tender. “Ry.”
I can’t look at him.
Shit!
I blow out a breath, wanting it to purge whatever is happening.
“All of this is ok. I want you to know that.”
I swallow bile and tears.
Ha. Nothing about any of this is ok.
“You don’t have to be afraid. Not of him.”
I’d really like to ask him how the hell he knows that. But I can’t because my freaking throat is being eaten alive with all the times I was afraid, and my instincts fired correctly. The looks of complete horror. The pity. The “I’m sorrys” that make me want to knock that person’s lights out. “I’m sorry” is just a fucking excuse to slink away when someone can’t handle what I’ve actually lived through. What I’ve endured and survived.
I couldn’t handle it from Cole. I just. . .couldn’t.
“You’re heading to The O after you pick him up?” His switch in topic is a minor relief, and all I can do is nod.
Eventually, I add, “He asked Cole if he’d be back.”
“Where do you go from here with these threats?” He casually sips his coffee, shifting us back into work mode, fully aware I need it.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I want to hear what he learned in this meeting, but without a pattern, it’s difficult to predict. The only consistency is football.”
“When is his next game?”
“This Sunday. He’ll be gone overnight, so we need someone planted outside his hotel door.”
Track makes a note.
“He also has a fundraising event coming up. After that, it’s his bye week.”
“Is he sticking around for that?” Track sets his pen on his desk.
My face scrunches, waking the soreness in my cheek. “Yeah. His sister has been nagging him about going to Denver for Thanksgiving. He’s never mentioned wanting to go, though.”
Tracker’s hand runs over his jaw.
I check my watch and push out of the chair. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Hey.” Tracker stops me. “Let me know what came out of this meeting. Maybe we need to start from scratch and identify what we’re missing. This guy knows what he’s doing and is getting more aggressive.”
Yep. All my jacked-up feelings and emotional overload will be shoved aside so I can focus on figuring out what this guy is planning next.
