I have no idea how long Slate and I have been lying in bed. He hasn’t said a single word since he carried me in here, but then again, neither have I. I’ve been lying facedown, alternating between crying, sleeping, and wanting to puke at the idea of telling him everything. I don’t think my past will send Slate running for the hills, but that doesn’t mean I’m not worried that it will ultimately make him leave. But no matter how long I wish I could put this off, I know it’s time. I suddenly roll over to face him and find him propped up on an elbow, watching me.
"You ready?" he asks, and the familiar words make tears once again flood my eyes.
"I think so," I whisper as he lies down on my pillow, only inches from my face. He places a hand in the curve of my hip and gives me an encouraging squeeze. I suck in a breath and prepare to spill it all. "My name is Erica Hill. I used to be an emergency room physician—" My words are immediately cut off as Slate leans in for a deep and lingering kiss. He holds his mouth to mine while breathing me in and pouring his heart out with only a single kiss.
He pulls away, flashing me a crooked smile. "It’s nice to meet you, Erica."
"Oh, God." I try to fight back the emotions, but the sound of my name coming from his mouth is just too much. It’s a word I took for granted for almost thirty years, but now, it’s something so incredible that it leaves me speechless.
In true Slate fashion, he holds me patiently, waiting for me to continue.
"Almost four years ago, I took a house call that changed my life. Everyone will tell you never to take house calls, but residents make shit for money. Combine that with over a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in student loans and just like everyone else without a rich mommy or daddy to lean on, I was broke. A guy I worked with did some after-hours stuff all the time. He told me the patient was some sort of hypochondriac that just wanted a doctor to tell him he didn’t have a horrible illness. I would later learn that some people can be bought for mere dollars. My crooked-coworker asked me if I would be interested in some quick cash, and of course I said yes." I stop to laugh at myself. "Well, a few weeks later, they called me in the middle of the night, asking if I could come right away. When I arrived, I was escorted in by a large man who immediately cleared the room so I could do my evaluation.
"The patient who was described to me as a hypochondriac was anything but. He was obviously ill, probably cancer, but I’m not completely sure. I never even got a chance to ask any questions—I was just the distraction. As soon as everyone left the room, three men came in through the back, firing a single shot to the patient’s head."
"Jesus Christ," Slate says, squeezing me tight.
"Please just let me finish."
He nods, but I know that, as much as he wants to know the rest, he doesn’t want to hear it.
"My patient, Miguel Rodriguez, was a very prominent member of one of the largest drug rings in Miami. Which, by the way, is where I’m from," I throw in with a shrug, knowing that I point-blank lied to him about that months ago. "Well, Miguel’s brother, Dom, decided to switch teams and work with Darren Wilkes, another prominent member of the drug world. Leo knows a lot more about this part than I do, but basically, Dom brought me in, playing the concerned-brother role as an excuse to see Miguel, then killed him in cold blood. I guess the cancer wasn’t doing it fast enough. Dom ordered his right-hand man to kill me since I’d witnessed it."
Slate flinches at my words, but he doesn’t say anything in response.
"I grew up with my aunt after my parents died when I was three. She was fifty-five when she took me in and passed away my first year of college. I have no family and I’ve always kind of kept to myself, so really, I was an easy mark for them." I pause, catching his eye. I know Slate, and this next part is going to hurt him more than it will for me to tell it. I toss his words right back at him. "You ready?"
He exhales and drags me in for a hug. He buries his head in my neck, and I can feel his heart racing against my chest. "F*ck, Riley. I am absolutely not ready."
"Erica," I correct him, needing to hear him say it again.
He lifts his head. "Is that what you want me to call you from now on?"
"It’s kinda my name," I say with a broken smile.
"Okay then. Erica, tell me everything." He traces a hand up my back under my shirt.
I need to make sure he knows something first. The things I’m about to tell him will change everything, but before it does, I want him to know another truth.
"I love you. I didn’t respond earlier, but I do."
"F*ck, Erica," he hisses. "Tell me you trust me?" he asks, and I can finally give him an honest answer.
"Completely."
Without another word spoken, he rolls me to my back, covering me with his huge body and kissing me with both reverence and lust. I’m not afraid as his weight settles over my body. Instead, I’ve never felt safer in my life. His warm tongue glides in my mouth and I roll my hips into his. He groans but all too quickly moves away.
"I just want you to know nothing you say is going to change anything, beautiful. So don’t pull any punches. I don’t want to have this conversation again."
I offer him a relieved smile. His words give me a little comfort, but he has no idea what he is getting into. It’s easy to say that nothing will change now.
"Okay. Let’s get this over with." He pulls me back toward him and we resume our position on our sides. This time, I tangle my legs with his, needing to feel him so I can’t get lost in the past.
"How much do you want of this?"
"As much as you are willing to give."
I sigh. That was the right and completely wrong answer. "I was taken back to one of Dom’s houses, where I was tied to a bed and raped by over eight men," I rush out as if it were like ripping off a Band-Aid.
I wait for him to react. Maybe back away and reconsider his desire to be with me, or even just to get angry. But it never comes. His strong jaw clenches as he grits his teeth, but otherwise, he remains emotionless.
"Just when I thought it was over, Darren Wilkes showed up. To call him a sick bastard would be the understatement of the century. He sat between my legs and took a knife, slicing up my thighs and over my vagina." I don’t get the words out of my mouth before Slate explodes off the bed.
"What the f*ck!" he shouts. His eyes are wild as he begins pacing around the bed, shoving a hand through his hair and cussing words I never knew existed. He finally stills but only long enough to throw a fist through the drywall.
I’ve been through enough therapy to know that none of this was my fault, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m embarrassed and ashamed all the same. I sit Indian style on the bed, knotting my hands in my lap while watching him unravel. Finally, after a few minutes, he snaps out of it and focuses his attention back on me.
"Shit, Erica. I’m sorry." He kneels on the bed and pulls me into his arms.
I go willingly, but for the first time since I met him, it feels awkward and forced. Slate wasn’t supposed to ever know this stuff about me. Now, he knows too much.
I lean away, trying to collect my thoughts, but he stops me. "Don’t do that. Don’t pull away from me. I don’t care, beautiful. This changes nothing."
I nod, but he’s wrong. It changes everything.
"What happened to him—the man who did that to you?" he asks quietly.
"Leo killed him." His eyes go wide and he leans back to get a better look at my face. "Leo was an undercover agent for the DEA. He shot Darren while he sat between my legs. Then he killed his two guards and rescued me from that hell." Finally, the pent-up emotions escape my eyes.
"So you two are not related?" he asks while using his thumbs to dry the tears that steadily fall from my eyes.
"No. But I love him more than any bloodline could ever dictate."
"Okay, so how did you end up here? What are you running from now?"
"Leo was relieved from duty because of some of his actions on the day he rescued me—the same actions that saved my life. We both testified against Dom Rodriguez and were immediately moved into the Witness Protection Program. They tried to separate us, but Leo came with me, mainly because, back then, I was terrified of everyone in the entire world except for him.
"Over the years, Wilkes’s brothers have found us three times. The first time, his younger brother walked right up to our door and knocked. Like it was nothing. Leo opened the door and Wilkes shot him in the chest while I sat on the couch completely helpless. He walked in, stepping over Leo, and grabbed me by the hair and dragged me out."
I pause as the memories overwhelm me. I break into a cold sweat and fight to keep myself from throwing up. After a few deep breaths, I manage to continue.
"Of all the things that have happened to me, that might be the scariest moment of my life. I lived through being raped and assaulted once, but as he dragged me down the stairs, I knew I wouldn’t survive it again. I tried to fight back and was mildly successful—until he punched me in the face, sending me into the welcomed darkness."
I peek up at Slate, who hasn’t said anything, but not even a blind man could mistake the rage radiating off his body. His heart is racing and his chest is heaving, and there is an inferno blazing in his eyes.
"I don’t remember anything else, but from what I hear, Leo stopped him. Killing yet another man to protect me."
"Jesus f*cking Christ, Erica," he breathes.
"So yeah, unexpected knocks on doors scare me now," I try to say nonchalantly but fail miserably when the words catch in my throat. I’m physically and emotionally exhausted from the entire day, but I’m especially drained from trying to hold it together during this conversation. I just want it to be over—all of it. "I’m done. That’s all my part. Can you get the other stuff from Leo tomorrow?" I say, closing the door on any further questions.
"I don’t even know what to say right now," he answers. "This isn’t an abusive ex-boyfriend. This is…"
"My life," I finish for him. "It sucks, but there is no escaping it. I live every day looking over my shoulder, waiting for them to find us again. But in the process of running, I found you. Slate, you made me feel safe, and I’m sorry I can’t do the same for you. Just so you know, if you want to walk away from me and all of this now—I won’t hold it against you. It would kill me to watch you leave, but it would destroy me if anything ever happened to you because of me."
"Shut up."
"I’m serious."
"So am I. Shut up." He kisses me, pushing me to my back, once again covering me completely with his body. Our mouths are both closed but it’s by far the most passionate kiss I have ever received. "Tomorrow, we are moving to my apartment in Chicago. I’ll talk with Leo in the morning about the logistics with the program, but I can’t protect you here. From here on out, you don’t lie to me. Okay?"
"Slate, you don’t know what you are getting into. You can’t protect me, period. I have an entire team of agents assigned to me and they still find us. They always find us."
"Erica, you are mine. I have absolutely zero plans of letting you go or allowing you to ever be hurt again. I’m not too naïve to admit that I’m treading in new waters with this, but you are highly underestimating the extent to which I will go to keep you. This isn’t some passing fling we have here. So stop acting like walking away from you will ever be an option again. That also goes for any ridiculous idea you get about trying to run to protect me." He gives me a pointed look that forces me to bite my lip. "From here on out, we do it all together. Got it?"
"I just—"
"Get your stuff. We are going to my place tonight." He stands up and heads to the door.
"Slate, maybe we need some space tonight. This is a big decision for you. Just being with me puts your entire life in danger."
"There is only one choice. Therefore, there is no decision to be made. Now, do you need some space?" he asks, crossing his thick arms over his chest.
"Maybe."
"Fine. You have an hour." He turns and walks out of my room, closing the door behind him.
"Jesus, he is bossy," I say to myself.
"Nothing new, beautiful!" he shouts from outside the door.
Space. Screw that. Ril—Erica has lost her f*cking mind. After that little get-to-know-you session, neither of us needs space, much less a night alone. Hell, I’ll probably end up with nightmares tonight even with her tucked securely into my side. I don’t actually know if I’ll ever be able to sleep again.
"How bad is it?" I ask as I barge into Leo’s room. He is sitting at the foot of his bed, tossing his phone in his hands. He’s not relaxing or lounging—he was waiting for me.
He immediately stands. Leo is a big guy, but I still tower over him. "Really bad," he says as he walks to the small kitchen.
"Sorry, but I’m going to need more than that," I tell his back.
He pulls two beers from the fridge. "If she stays with you, we are officially being released from the program."
"What?" I slam my untouched beer down, causing it to foam all over the counter.
"I’ve been round and round with them tonight, and it’s just not happening."
"Are they just going to leave her to die?" I grit out.
"No. They are going to try to scare her into leaving you." He lets out a loud huff then pulls a sip of his beer.
"I won’t let her go. Tell them to f*ck off."
"I would if I didn’t think they would take me up on it. Slate, you are the epitome of everything we are supposed to avoid, yet she fell in love with you all the same. They aren’t going to stand by and publicly fail while the media reports Slate Andrews’s girlfriend was killed or worse—kidnapped."
"I won’t let anyone touch her," I vow. "But I also won’t let her go."
He takes in a deep breath and lifts his eyes to hold mine. "I’m going to advise they remove her from the situation."
A blast of adrenaline spirals through my body. I reach out and grab his throat, pushing him against the pantry door. I lean in close so Erica can’t hear my eruption. "You even think about taking her from me and I’ll feed you to the wolves myself. I will hunt until the day I die to find her. And trust me, I have the resources to make it happen, Leo." I spit his name like it’s venom on my tongue.
"You’re going to get her killed if you follow," he manages to bite out around my hand cupping his throat.
"Then don’t take her. She stays with me."
"You don’t know what you are talking about. She can’t stay with you without protection. They will track her down."
"If we work together, we could do it. I have a place in Chicago. Maxed security system, private entrance, twenty-four-hour guard. Leo, we could make her safe." He stares into my eyes for a few moments as his face continually turns red from my grip on his throat.
It happens so fast that I can’t even begin to tell you where I went wrong. Leo grabs my hand from his neck and spins me, pulling my arm hard behind my back and pinning my face against the same door I just held him against.
He leans in, speaking directly into my ear. "I want a team of my own men, unlimited funds, and for you to keep your f*cking mouth shut and take care of her. I worry about her safety and you worry about her well-being."
It makes total sense but I’m no one’s bitch. I slam my head back, cracking his nose and sending him to the ground. I drop to a knee beside him and once again regain my grip on his throat. "Deal."
He holds my eyes for a minute in an unspoken truce before I finally release him. I reach down, grabbing his hand and dragging him back to his feet. His nose is bleeding and my arm is throbbing from the restraint, but we both nod to each other in agreement.
"We leave in the morning. She’s staying with me tonight."
"I’ll let the big boys know," he says, pulling an ice pack from the freezer and pressing it to his nose.
"Hey, Leo." I stop him before he makes it to his room. "Will this ever end for her? I mean, is there a solution besides running all the time?"
"God, I hope so," he says with a resigned sigh. It’s easy to forget that Erica isn’t the only one whose life has been stolen.
"How much help has she had dealing with all of this? She is unquestionably not okay."
"She went through some pretty extensive therapy right after it happened. Then she called them all quack head doctors and refused to go back." He laughs. "Now she Skypes with a doctor once a month, but she needs more. See if you can talk her into seeing someone more regularly. Yeah?"
"Yeah, I’ll see what I can do."