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“Out,” I bark. “Now.”

Seeing the look on my face, he slams the door shut without argument.

Delilah trembles as she backs up against the boxes stacked in a corner.

“No more secrets, darlin’. Not with me.” Ah, fuck. She’s cracked my defenses. “Tell me why you’re hiding.” I capture her wrist, lightly running a finger over the bruise blooming on her skin. She doesn’t struggle.

“I’m scared, Cole.”

“I know. But I’m here. You don’t have to be afraid with me.” I want her to know she has someone now. Someone she can trust.

A single tear streaks down her cheek. Her delicate fragility, her beauty tightens the knot of longing in my chest.

She licks her lips. Slipping from my grasp, she starts to pace. “There was a man. In the club. Sammy.”

My stomach twists. Fuck if I’m ready to hear about this.

“He was a regular. A rich, big-shot client. I could tell. They have to be. He kept seeing me for six months.” She looks over, meets my eyes. “We never did anything. I danced, he talked.

“That last night in the club…there was something off about him. Something different. He kept talking about his job, how he was in too deep.” She wrings her hands. “He knew my name. He told me I was in danger. He said that if I didn’t run, I’d be next.”

Next. What the fuck does that mean?

“It was like he was possessed. He was rambling, and then he—he hit me.” Her hand drifts to her cheek. My body tenses. My fists clench. Rage flashes through me.

She releases a shaky breath. “There was whiskey spilled everywhere. I was so surprised, all I could do was sit there… And then…and then he—”

Delilah breaks off in a wild, abrupt cry, clapping her hand across her mouth. I see it play out on that gorgeous face of hers. Trauma. Pain. Terror.

Unable to stop myself, I stomp forward, erasing the distance between us. Every tense muscle in my body, softened by the gorgeous girl in my arms.

“Shh,” I soothe. “You’re okay, darlin’. You’re safe here.” I’m anxious to get the rest of her story, but I won’t push. It’s like working with a frightened animal. Slow and gentle is the way to go.

Hesitantly, she lifts her tear-filled eyes like she’s gauging my reaction. I want her to know nothing she tells me will change the way I feel about her.

“What happened, Delilah?”

“He shot himself in front me.” She gasps the words out, then buries herself against my chest.

“Christ.” My blood pressure’s through the fucking roof at the thought of her being on the other end of a gun. God, what I wouldn’t do to kill that motherfucker again.

I wrap my arms around her, drop my mouth to the top of her golden head. Kiss her crown. Inhale her honeyed scent.

It all makes sense. The whiskey. Her panic attacks. Her jumpiness.

I spent the last month thinking this girl was trouble. But I was wrong. This is worse. She’s alone, terrified, and in hiding. I hate it that she never came to me. That she’s been keeping it to herself and letting it eat her alive.

I gather Delilah to me, like I can protect her from the memory.

“Fuck, darlin’. I’m so goddamn sorry you saw that.” I can handle blood, I’ve done cruel, gruesome things, but Delilah seeing that gets to me.

Her voice is muffled against my chest. “It’s in my head, Cole. Brains and blood.” She lifts her tearstained face. “I can’t get it out.”

“What happened after that?”

Delilah shrugs, her eyes avoiding mine. “Belle told me she’d handle it, so I left. And now…now the cops are asking about me.” A tear slips over her high, delicate cheekbone. “I know it was stupid to run, but—”

“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I think on it. “Have you told anyone you’re here?”