Redemptive (Combative, #2)(31)
I brought us both to the floor and held her tight, whispering, “It’s okay,” over and over. Minutes passed before I finally felt her body relax, and then she finally looked up at me, her eyes full of fear. “Nate?” she whispered.
I exhaled a relieved breath and moved the hair from her face. “What happened, Bai?”
Tiny approached with a glass of water and handed it to her. “I think it’s best we let her calm down first.”
She gulped down the water like it was air, her eyes fixed on mine. “You’re okay,” I assured her.
And myself.
She was okay.
My grip on her loosened and I found myself struggling for breath.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said, speaking to Tiny. “I thought you were him.”
“Who?” Tiny asked.
“The man who was trying to break in through the back door.”
My heart stopped, and I looked at Tiny.
“When?” I asked her.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she whimpered, “He saw me, Nate. He looked me right in the eyes. He knows I’m alive.”
*
I splashed water on my face and looked in the mirror of my bathroom. Color had drained from my face, and my pulse had spiked, blood rushing feverishly through my veins. I gripped the edge of the sink and rocked back and forth, breathing through the sharp ache in my chest.
Inhale.
Pause.
Exhale.
Pause.
Repeat.
“Fuck it,” I snapped, opening the medicine cabinet. I grabbed the pills Polizi had just filled and popped two in my mouth.
“Did you get a look at him?” Tiny asked Bailey from somewhere in the living room.
“No, I couldn’t see anything. Just his eyes,” she answered, her voice shaky.
My jaw tightened. Once again, I ran the tap. This time, I dipped my entire head underneath, letting the cold water run down my neck and face, calming me just enough so I could go back out and face reality.
*
After a half hour or so, Bailey had calmed down enough to answer our questions clearly. She sat on one couch; Tiny and I sat on the other, facing her, a coffee table between us.
“I was washing the dishes,” she said, her hands clasped together but still unable to stop them from trembling. I wanted to go to her, but then she’d feel my hands tremble, see my fear in my eyes, and I had to hide that, not just from her, but from Tiny, too. She added, “I just turned around, and he was at the back door, looking through the window. The second he saw me, I screamed. If I’d just kept calm maybe—”
“No, Bailey. Stop. This isn’t your fault.”
“He saw me,” she said, her gaze shifting between Tiny and I. “It was probably only a second, but it felt like forever, and then he ran, and I didn’t get a chance to see him properly. I’m sorry, Nate.”
“How long ago?” Tiny asked.
“I can’t tell time. Maybe an hour? I don’t know!” she cried.
Three things immediately came to mind:
1: How the f*ck did they get through the house security to get to the door?
2: I was with PJ and Benny at the time… a time they’d organized for me to be there.
3: I’d just dealt a blow to the Francos.
I looked over at Tiny, my mind filled with too many thoughts, I couldn’t convey a single one.
“One thing at a time, Boss,” he said, as if he knew what was going through my mind. “What’s the priority?”
“She is,” I said, pointing to Bailey. “Her safety comes first. Always.”
20
Bailey
I gave them all the information I could, but I knew it wasn’t enough. I didn’t care what had happened to me, I only cared about Nate. About the danger that he’d be in if someone found out that he had lied about what he did or didn’t do. And as I watched the concern take over his features, all I wanted to do was go to him, hold him, run my fingers through his hair the way he likes it. “Can you give us a minute?” he asked, looking down at the floor.
“Sure,” I whispered.
“Not you. Tiny.”
Nate waited until Tiny had left the house before finally looking at me, his eyes so dark, so intense, it froze me to my spot. I couldn’t breathe, but I couldn’t look away and after a while, he sighed and started to get up, just as the front door opened. “Sorry,” Tiny said, holding up a phone. “Your phone was in the car. The alarm’s going off.”
“Your meds,” Nate said, getting up and reclaiming his phone. He motioned to the guest bathroom. “Let’s go.”
*
The second we were in the bathroom and the door was closed, I was wrapped in his arms, his lips on mine and a million thoughts and insecurities between us. “I’m sorry,” he said as he pulled away.
“It’s not your fault.”
“I should have been here protecting you.”
“You didn’t know.”
His hands gripped my waist, and he held me to him, his eyes closing when my fingers found their home in his hair.
With his lips soft on my forehead, he asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine. I’m not worried about me, Nate. I’m worried about you. Whoever it was, they know now. They know I’m still alive, and that means that you—”