The interview at the police station drags on for four agonizing hours. Listening to Danika recount her ordeal in excruciating detail had my stomach roiling and my hands stinging from clenching them throughout her story.
When she described Matteo blowing off Paul’s head and his body falling onto her, knocking her to the ground and pinning her under him, I could barely stop myself from grabbing her arm and pulling her from that room to end her distress.
I know they needed to know what happened—every gory detail—but watching her in so much anguish killed me. Now, as we finally approach my building, she’s once again clinging to me, her warm breath puffing across my neck and cheek. I know she isn’t asleep. I can feel her lashes fluttering against my skin as she blinks away her tears.
No one has said a word since we left the station.
They let Gabe go.
Thank God.
Anyone else who shot three people in the head with a sniper rifle would probably spend several days in jail while there was an investigation, at least, and may be prosecuted, at worst. But with Gabe’s background, family connections, and the circumstances, I can’t say I’m surprised it was easy for him to get released immediately.
His eyes lock with mine in the rearview mirror and I see the same darkness there I remember from when he returned from one of his many deployments. He doesn’t like killing, and I know he suffered when he had to do it.
In the past, he’s always been very good at hiding it from people—everyone except me. I don’t know how I didn’t know he was seeing a shrink. I guess I just figured he was dealing with his demons in his own way, but I’m glad he did. Otherwise, he would have ended up even more fucked up than he already is.
We pull into our building’s underground parking. The moment the car stops moving, Danika shifts in my arms and leans back, looking around to see where we are. “We’re home, baby,” I whisper, pressing my lips to hers gently.
Home. My home. Not hers.
Fuck, I want it to be her home.
I want her here, with me, where she belongs. Here, where I can love her, and protect her.
This isn’t over with Dom, not by a long shot. No way he’s going to just walk away knowing she’s still alive, knowing what she knows, what she could do to him, knowing she caused the death of his right-hand man and two others. But, I will deal with that tomorrow. Tonight, tonight is about taking care of her, making sure she realizes she is safe, giving her whatever she needs.
Her unfocused, red-rimmed eyes search my face, but she doesn’t respond. Gabe opens the back door and helps her climb out, but as soon as I slide into my chair, she lurches to climb back into my lap. I don’t blame her. She’s terrified and still in shock.
The silence continues on the elevator ride. Gabe holds the door to my condo open and Princess races out, jumping at me and then at Gabe’s legs. He scoops her up and nods as he heads across the hall to his place. No words are necessary. Not now.
Hell, what would I say, anyway? Thanks for murdering three people to rescue my girlfriend?
I head straight for the bathroom. While the medical staff did the best they could to somewhat clean her up, there’s still blood spattered and smeared on her cheek and in her hair.
Thank God she hasn’t been able to look in a mirror.
Stopping next to the glass door of the massive shower, I nudge her.
“Baby, let’s get you out of these clothes and cleaned up.” She looks at me with vacant eyes and my heart breaks just a little more. I give her a fake, reassuring smile and capture her face between my palms. I don’t want to leave her for a moment, but I need to grab something for her to sleep in. “Can you get undressed while I run to the closet?”
Terror flashes in her eyes and she shakes her head in my hands vigorously, mumbling about me not leaving her.
“Shh, baby, I’ll be right outside. I’ll be back in a minute. I promise.” She whimpers but relaxes slightly, finally letting me help her stand. She wobbles slightly and grabs the edge of the counter with her free hand to help steady herself. “I’ll be right back,” I reassure her. She nods and reluctantly releases her death grip on my hand.
I grab a t-shirt from my closet and return to her as quickly as I can.
The two minutes I’m away from her are agonizing for me. I can’t even imagine how they are for her.
She hasn’t moved. Her entire body is tense. She stands with her back to the shower, her eyes locked on some unknown spot on the tile floor.
I set the shirt on the counter and capture her hand, bringing it up to my mouth and pressing my lips to soft skin on the back. “Come on, let’s get you in the shower.”
Her gaze flickers over to mine and she nods in agreement.
The silence is deafening.
Danika is always alive with chatter, filling those voids with her bubbly personality, inappropriate comments, and witty retorts. Now, she’s just a shell of the woman I know and love.