Keep Me Safe (Slow Burn #1)(13)

What if . . . ​What if he truly could keep her safe? What if he could prevent her agonizing death at the hands of a madman? She was afraid to hope, to let herself be lulled into a false sense of security. And yet she couldn’t quite prevent the fledgling glimmer of hope from unfurling in the deepest part of her soul.

“Look at me. Watch me. Breathe deep. In through your nose and out your mouth. You can do this.”

Her pulse was a rapid staccato against her skin. She stared helplessly back at him, a single tear trailing warmly down her cheek, a contradiction to the icy chill that held her in its grip.

“Don’t cry, Ramie,” he said in a gentle voice. “You’re safe now, I swear it. But you have to breathe for me. Like this.”

She watched as he demonstrated sucking in deep breaths, his nostrils flaring, and then expelling the air, the warmth of his breath on her chin. Some of the terrible panic began to ease. Slowly, her lungs opened up and allowed a shaky intake. She shuddered violently, shaking off the chokehold anxiety had on her.

“Nice and easy,” he soothed. “You need to slow it down.” He glanced down at one of the hands he still held, his fingers circled gently around her wrist. “Your pulse is way too fast.”

She had yet to say a word to him. He’d done all the talking. And now that her panic attack was abating, she had no idea what to say at all. He was here. He’d come. He’d responded to her plea for help. What could she tell him? Would he even believe her?

His expression grew dark, his eyes flaring with anger. It was instinctive for her to recoil when he lifted a hand toward her face. He frowned even harder at her reaction.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Ramie,” he murmured.

He touched the corner of her mouth where the bruise and dried blood she still hadn’t washed away were on her skin. His touch was infinitely gentle and once more she marveled at the fact that her mind wasn’t thrown into the instant turmoil that was usually the result when people touched her.

Oh, she sensed anger. Deep, seething rage. But she knew it was directed at the man who’d struck her. The man who wanted to kill her. She could sense nothing from him, which meant he had no dark secrets. No violent tendencies. All she could feel was hatred toward the man who’d struck her.

“Now, tell me what you can,” Caleb said, no hint of impatience in his voice. “You said someone was trying to kill you. I need to know every single detail if I’m going to be able to protect you.”

It was the way in which he said protect you that struck a chord inside her. He hadn’t said help her. He’d said protect in a possessive tone, one she found comforting. The first time in over a year she’d enjoyed one brief moment of comfort and . . . ​peace. The peace she was so desperate to achieve.

They sat there in silence, Caleb’s fingers still a gentle caress on her face, when she realized he was waiting for her response. For her to say something instead of numbly staring at him like a brainless idiot.

God, where to start?

Weariness assailed her. Fatigue crashed into her like the surf against a rocky coast. She felt more battered and bruised in her heart and soul than she did from her stalker’s physical attack hours before.

“I don’t know where to start,” she whispered. “It all sounds so . . . ​crazy. I wouldn’t even believe my story coming from someone else.”

His fingers fell from her face and back to her hand, rubbing over the top in a circular pattern meant to soothe and calm. Then he simply laced his fingers with hers and gave them a gentle squeeze.

“Start wherever you like. I’ll listen. And I’ll damn sure believe you.”

She sucked in a steadying breath and then let it out, her shoulders sagging with the effort.

“A year and a half ago I helped locate a kidnapping victim. What that poor girl went through was horrifying.”

She shivered just saying the words. No matter how hard she tried to block it from her mind it was there, image after image of blood, pain and impending death thick in her memory. It was as fresh as if it had happened yesterday and not eighteen months ago.

“And what you went through as well,” he murmured.

Regret was stark in his eyes. Sincere remorse was etched into his features.

“Yes,” she whispered. “What I endured as well.”

“Go on,” Caleb encouraged.

“The killer was never apprehended. And I say killer because though he didn’t kill the victim I located, there were others. So many others. I was only able to save the one.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as grief welled to the surface, threatening to completely consume her. Then she reopened her eyes and focused her gaze on Caleb.

“He’s the one trying to kill me. He’s been hunting me for months. He’s why I tried to hide where no one could find me. And yet he somehow manages to find me no matter where I go. He’s always there. I think . . .”

She broke off and lowered her gaze because this is where it got crazy. Caleb may well think she’d lost what remaining sanity she possessed.

“You think what?” he asked softly.

“I think he has psychic abilities himself. I think it’s why he’s obsessed with me. It has to be why he keeps finding me. Why I’m constantly having to look over my shoulder. I swear at times I can feel his breath on my neck. He was waiting inside my hotel room today. I knew when I touched the knob that he’d been there but before I could run, he yanked the door open and grabbed me.”