Split

A long exhale falls from his lips and he drops his chin to his chest. “I hate this for you.”


I run my lips along his shoulder blade, taking pleasure in the trail of goose bumps I leave behind. “I can handle Gage.”

His elbows to his knees, he leans his head into his hands, gripping his hair. “I wish that were true. But if I can’t control him, no one can. He’s already pissed off women in town—”

“Sam got herself—” My body jerks upright. “Oh no, I forgot about Sam.”

He turns to face me. “What about Sam?”

“Remember, we were talking and I got the call about Sam being—” Oh no . . . that was Gage. I purse my lips and bite the inside of my cheek. “She was beaten almost to death in her own home.”

“By who?”

“They don’t know.” My cheeks warm and I find it hard to hold his eyes. “I thought maybe it could’ve been Gage.” His body tenses and I scurry to explain. “But no, there’s no way, I mean, he’d never hurt Sam like this.” It could be the Shadow; I’m just shocked the story that destroyed my career would hit so close to home. “There are a string of serial assaults in Phoenix and a few in surrounding cities. So far it seems Sam’s assault matches, but we won’t know until they finish the investigation.”

“Serial assault . . .?”

“The guy follows an MO. Never any proof of forced entry, and he never rapes. The cops are calling it a hate crime.”

He’s staring openly at nothing and his voice comes out a tiny whisper. “Hate? Against who?”

“Women.”

He jumps from the bed as if he’d been electrocuted. “You need to leave.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m not safe for you. The feelings I have for you, if Gage . . . oh God.” He pulls on a pair of sweatpants, mumbling to himself. “I’d kill him if he hurt you.”

With the sleeping bag around my body, I jump out of bed. “Kill who?”

He sets cold gray eyes on me, and if it weren’t for the softness of his jaw, I’d think it was Gage. “Who do you think?”

“You can’t kill Gage, Lucas. He’s you.”

He doesn’t answer but turns and grabs a long-sleeved tee from the closet.

I cross to him and wrap myself around his waist from behind. “You can’t kill Gage.”

His muscles tense to solid rock. “What if he did it? What if Gage is the one who hurt Sam?”

“No, I don’t believe that.”

He peels my hands from around his waist and moves to the doorway. “Don’t be stupid, Shy.”

“He has every right to have trust issues with women, but that doesn’t mean he’d beat them almost to death.”

“You know that for sure?” His jaw ticks and he takes a step closer. “Sure enough you’d risk your life? Because every second we’re alone together we tempt him.”

My heart pounds in my chest and, craving his comfort, I reach for him.

“Please, stay back.” He’s panting, his fists clenched.

“Lucas, it’s okay—”

“I can’t trust myself around you . . .” He swallows hard. “You shouldn’t trust me either.” He dips to the floor to snag my sweater and tosses it to me. “Get dressed.” His stormy eyes meet mine. “You need to go.”

I blink and shake my head, then pull my sweater on and move to him, but he holds a hand out to keep me back. “Don’t push me away.”

He turns from me, his muscles prominent and straining his shirt. I want to touch him, to run my hands up his back, to ease him, but I fear that’ll make him push harder.

“Okay, Lucas. I’ll go.” I snag my panties from the floor and tug them on, then rip my jeans up my legs.

He doesn’t move and his gaze stays trained to the floor.

I cross to him while buttoning my jeans and cup his jaw, grateful he doesn’t jerk from my touch. “Let me ask you this, Lucas. Besides earlier today, with me, in the last forty-eight hours, have you blacked out?”

Slowly, Lucas turns his eyes to me. Dread settles in my gut.

“Last night, after Dustin . . . on the way home I blacked out.” His expression isn’t panicked or even worried; it’s worse. Totally blank. Void of any emotion at all.

The air in my lungs goes still. “Where did you go?”

“I came to in the shower.” His eyes meet mine and although he doesn’t say anything, I can hear his thoughts scream, I did it!

“That doesn’t mean—”

“Go!” His eyelids flicker and he grips the side of his head. “Now! Get out of here!”

I jump and my boots stomp on the wood floor as I head out, hoping Lucas will call me back and beg me to stay. It isn’t until I’m in my truck staring at the river house’s front porch that reality sinks in. I’ve finally made some headway with Gage, but I’m back to square one with Lucas.

He’s pushing me away.





THIRTY-THREE



SHYANN