Back In The Bedroom (The Wrong Bed #29)(6)

“You’re not getting out tonight.”

“Fine, if you don’t want to do it. I will.” She dropped her arms and straightened, visibly swallowing while she mustered up all her courage. If he hadn’t been pissed and hurting, he might have admired her.

“Boost me up,” she said.

From flat on his back, he laughed, his first all night. “Let me get this straight. You’ll go crawling through the attic in the pitch dark, drop into a room you don’t know, possibly into the waiting arms of the guy I didn’t knock out, and then what? Let them have another stab at you?”

Her determined expression faltered, and the terror came through. “You’re right,” she whispered. “This is really serious, and I think it’s just hitting me. I’m sorry.” Then she blinked those wide, expressive eyes and hugged herself. He felt like a jerk.

He closed his eyes. “You’re just going to have to wait. Eddie will figure out you’re missing and come looking for you.”

“He’s in Cabo with his girlfriend for two days.”

That had his eyes opening again. “I thought you, Statutory Rape Lawsuit Walking, were the girlfriend.”

“You— I—” She sputtered, then laughed. She laughed hard and so genuinely, he actually felt the knot loosen in his belly because she was being honest, which meant his father hadn’t seduced this woman who was too cute and too young for him.

“I’m twenty-six years old,” she finally informed him. “Quite legal. And not that this is any of your business, but I am not your father’s girlfriend. I work in his temp agency.”

“Ah.” He didn’t want to think about why that made him feel a lot better, so he closed his eyes again.

A thunk sounded and with a sigh, he cracked open an eye. Looking small and defenseless, she’d sat on the floor against the far wall, beside the locked door, still hugging herself. Her knees were up, her head down on her arms.

Fine. That was a good place for her, far away from him, with her mouth thankfully shut for once.

He might have been able to pretend he was somewhere else other than lying on a damn cot with no clothes and a bump on the back of his head…if she hadn’t shivered.

He closed his eyes against it but he could have sworn he could hear her teeth rattling together. “Damn it. Get over here.”

She lifted her head, and in the glow from the light outside the window, he saw her expression. Gone was the temporary bravado. Gone were all signs that she was holding up under what even he could admit had been a fairly traumatizing experience. Wet now, her eyes were the color of rain-soaked leaves, and her mouth trembled. The bruises on her throat had blossomed.

Hell. “You all right?”

“Give me a minute.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “I know I’m talking, talking, talking, but that’s nerves and fear. I’ll try to stop, I promise.”

Slowly he sat up. No dizziness, which he figured was a good thing, so he risked standing. Barefoot, bare everything except the essentials, he took the few steps that brought him close. “You take the cot.”

She stared at his knees and shook her head.

“Tessa.”

She ignored him. Since he’d been trying to ignore her for half an hour now, he understood and appreciated the sentiment. But it was possible she was going into delayed shock, and that even he couldn’t ignore, as his training was too ingrained. He hunkered down beside her and, wanting to check her pulse, reached for her wrist.

Startled, she jerked back and into the wall, crying out at the contact and wincing away from him at the same time.

“Go away,” she whispered, mortified to find her eyes spilling over. But he’d scared her, and she really hated that. Before tonight, nothing had scared her.

“Hey.” Lifting his hands, watching her from those light, light eyes, he spoke softly. “It’s just me.”

“I know.” And she did, but it was just that for one bad moment, she’d been transported back into Eddie’s living room, back to that guy in the dirty long underwear shirt, and he’d been reaching for her—

Reilly took her hand. “Just me,” he repeated very quietly.

“I know that.”

“I want you to lie down and try to relax.”

“Relax.” She bit back her hysterical laughter. “Sure. I’ll relax.”

“Great, because you’re wound up tighter than a clock.”

“Yes, well, this hasn’t been exactly a good day.”

“I know.” He contemplated her in silence for a while. “Are you cold?”

Yes. She was cold. And hungry. And tired. And, apparently, letting this whole situation really get to her.

“Come on,” he said. Still on his knees before her, he wriggled his fingers, clearly indicating she could take his hand.

Tessa closed her eyes. She didn’t want to take his hand. She wanted to crawl in a hole and have a meltdown. She wanted to be alone while doing it, thank you very much. “Go to sleep,” she said.

“I can’t do that now,” said the contrary man.

Of course not. Because heaven forbid one thing go her way tonight.





3




“TESSA, COME ON. Lie down.”