Page 33 of Grant’s Blaze

In response, I growled.

Correction. I moaned.

Fucking. Moaned. Out loud.

In two strides I was on her. With efficient movement, I threaded my fingers through the hair at her nape. Rio’s hair had grown out too, and it was finally just long enough to grab on to. I cranked her head back and kissed her so roughly she whimpered. From there, I made my way down her neck and left a sizeable mark on her skin that was already bruising. Damn straight it was.

I stood to my full height. With a shaking breath, I leaned to admire my handiwork. In this case, the artwork of my lips.

I didn’t feel bad about it. Not even by a drop.

Mine, it screamed.

I stepped back over to her. Leaned in. Beside her ear, I growled, “Put some fucking clothes on before you make me late. And ditch those fucking panties today while I’m at work.”

We were both grinning and a bit winded when I went out to the kitchen and she ducked into the closet to grab some pajama pants.

I unlocked the screen on my phone…and then just stared blankly at the thing. I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing.

Shit. Okay. This could not be that difficult. I told myself that, but the exhortation didn’t register. I just kept staring.

What the hell? Why was this what was hanging me up?

I stared at my phone again as if the answer would flash across the screen like a Wall Street stock ticker. But of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. I could remember something like the fucking Nasdaq index but not the next step to get out the door to work.

Red-hot rage bubbled up from nowhere, and I pulled back and then hurled the phone across the room with all my might. Like a star going supernova, the device burst into a trillion tiny shards upon impact with the marble mantel.

I roared at the walls, unseeing and uncaring about them. Right now, I could only comprehend darkness. Not just any abyss. It was that one goddamned hole, surrounded by those cold steel walls and the others in it with me…

The others.

No. Goddammit, no!

Fucking barbarians! They did this to me! One too many cracks to the back of the head with the butt of a gun and you have a head injury, ladies and gentlemen. Short-term memory loss? Check. Hair-trigger temper? Check. Fatigue? Check.

I just hoped this wasn’t permanent and things would get back to normal on their own. I didn’t have time in my day for monotonous therapy or even be bothered by some sort of lame home-exercise program just so I could remember how to do basic things. I definitely didn’t have time to rest in order to recover, either.

Then there was that ugly truth. The events that played on repeat when I finally did fall asleep were insidious. No one needed to hear about that shit. If I had my way, no one ever would.

Chapter Eight

Rio

From the master bedroom of Grant’s downtown condo, I heard a thunderous crash. The sound came from the living room, so I ran in that direction.

There wasn’t much distance between the master bedroom walk-in and the open living area, so I was at Grant’s side in a flash. The pants I’d been pulling on were left in a forgotten heap somewhere along the way.

“What the hell was that?” I nearly shrieked. “Are you okay?”

I gave him a quick head-to-toe scan and found no external damage, thank God. The tall man seemed to fold on stiff, rusty hinges when he collapsed onto the sofa. Currently missing from the scene was my confident, strong, and capable boyfriend. A Grant Twombley imposter slumped on the couch in front of me, refusing to meet my worried and expectant stare.

“Grant?”

I did my best to modulate my voice to something that sounded calm and in control. If he had suffered some kind of breakdown, even a minor one that would be done and forgotten by the time his ride pulled up, I owed it to him to be supportive. My God, after the countless hours the man had given me, it was the least I could do. Plus, I wanted to help him.

Watching Grant suffer wasn’t something I’d allow. If he tried to ignore what happened while he was gone, that was one thing. But I wouldn’t sit idly by and be the spectator of that sport. No way.

“Will you tell me what just happened?” I asked quietly, but he didn’t seem to realize I was still here in the same condo, let alone the same room. The look in his eyes was stark and unfocused—and outright scary.