Run To Me (Lazarus Rising #4)(8)

***

I died. I died, and I came back.

Willow wrapped one of Jay’s thick, white robes around her body. She was shivering, and she couldn’t seem to stop the chills that raked through her. She’d died.

Where had she gone when she died? Heaven? Hell? She couldn’t remember, but a tight ball of fear was heavy in her stomach. The dead weren’t supposed to come back. She wasn’t supposed to come back.

But she had.

Because she was some kind of freak. A monster that had been created in a lab. A creature of real nightmares.

Only Jay had kissed her. He’d wanted her, she knew it. His desire had been real. Desire for a woman, not a monster.

Voices were raised downstairs. Shouting. She had enhanced hearing so it wasn’t any struggle to make out the words. A normal human would have been able to hear those angry words.

She opened up the door to Jay’s bedroom.

“We need the body, Mr. Maverick. Just give us the body!” A man’s voice, slightly high, nasally.

“There is no body.” Jay. She’d recognize his deep voice anyplace. “My friend is resting upstairs. As you can imagine, the night has been quite intense for her. Someone shot at my companion, and you should all be out there looking for the bastard. Not in here, harassing me.”

A beat of silence, then… “We saw the blood, Mr. Maverick,” the same nasally voice responded. “You can’t keep a dead woman’s body in your home.”

She crept toward the staircase. Peered over the big balcony and railing. Jay was in the middle of the room below, his hands on his hips. Blood stained his clothes. Her blood. His hair was tousled, his expression—well, it was pissed. West stood at Jay’s side, and he looked just as angry. Dr. Elizabeth Parker was there, too, sitting on the couch, and Sawyer Cage was positioned right next to her. A slightly protective position. Made sense because Sawyer was protective when it came to Elizabeth. She was his lover, after all.

No, the way Sawyer looked at Elizabeth…she’s his everything. And Willow was jealous of that. Perhaps not jealous, but, envious.

It would be nice to have someone care about her so much.

“Don’t make us search your house.” The nasally voice again. Willow’s eyes narrowed. The speaker was a man in a long, brown coat. Tall and built along sturdy lines, the fellow sported dark red hair, and he was carrying a gun. Willow could just make out the bulk of the holster and weapon under his arm.

Three uniformed cops were there, too. Looking very, very uncomfortable. A woman with blonde hair, an African American cop who had a gaze that kept sweeping the room, and a young, short fellow with curly, black hair. He was sweating and rocking forward onto the balls of his feet.

“Don’t think I remember seeing a search warrant, Detective Haskin.” Jay flashed the fellow in the trench coat a broad grin. “Maybe come back when you have one, hmm?”

The detective’s face flashed red. “You know what that swarm of reporters are saying out there? You’ve gone batshit crazy, you’re keeping your dead lover’s body in your bed, you’re—”

“I’m not dead.” The words slipped out from Willow.

And suddenly, all eyes were on her.

The sweating cop had even pulled his weapon, aiming it up at her.

West immediately grabbed the weapon from the fellow. “Don’t aim that shit at her.”

Willow released a slow breath. Her gaze darted toward Jay. His grin was gone. “I’m not dead,” she said again, and Willow knew she was directing those words at Jay. She just didn’t know why. I want him to keep seeing me as a woman. Not a freak. “Jay brought me here because I truly was fine. I didn’t need a trip to the hospital.”

“Uh, miss?” The detective scratched his chin. “I’m going to need you to come down the stairs.”

Jay tensed, but he didn’t argue.

Willow began walking down the stairs, far too conscious of the robe around her body and Jay’s stare—a stare that never left her. Her fingers trailed over the wooden banister as she descended the spiral staircase, and when she reached the last step, Jay was there. He rushed toward her. Pulled her close.

“You should be resting.”

Were his tender words just for the audience watching them? Probably.

But he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against his body. He was warm and solid, and the knot of fear in her belly seemed to ease.

“She doesn’t look like she was shot,” this came from the female officer. Her narrowed gaze swept over Willow.

Willow forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

The detective crossed his arms over his chest. “There’s an awful lot of blood on Mr. Maverick’s clothes for you to be fine.”

“The bullet grazed me. Nothing more.” Did she sound brisk? In control? Or panicked?

The detective’s attention shifted to Jay. “You left the scene of a crime.”

Jay pulled Willow even closer to his body. “Someone was shooting at my friend. I had to leave. What did you want me to do? Stay there and keep letting her be a target?”

No…no, he was wrong. “Jay…” Willow began.

He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Leaving was my only option. I needed to protect Willow.”

But she hadn’t needed protecting. “Jay—”