Calum exited the elevators, excited at the thought of the evening ahead. Laurella had mentioned going to see the play Miss Saigon several times before she’d rushed to her father’s aid. She’d been under so much stress for so long, and he wanted tonight to be special, so he’d bought the best seats in the house.

The elevator doors had barely closed when a scream reached him. He set off sprinting. That scream had come from Laurella’s place. He rattled the door handle of her apartment, but it didn’t open. Scuffles and thudding came from inside.

“Laurella!” he yelled, slamming his shoulder into the door—once, twice, a third time. The wood creaked and splintered, and the door sprang open.

The scene that greeted him was like something out of a slasher movie. Laurella was propped up against the wall nearest the kitchen. She was in her underwear, the lower half of her body covered in blood as well as smears of red on her arms and chest. To her left was a man with a knife sticking out of his abdomen.

“Jesus, baby, what happened? Are you hurt?”

The man’s face was staring vacantly at the ceiling. Vorino. A swell of anger built up inside him. He fell to his knees beside Laurella. She had an empty stare that scared the shit out of him. He checked her over. She seemed to be unhurt, which meant the blood was Vorino’s.

He gripped her arms and shook her slightly. “Laurella, look at me,” he demanded.

She didn’t respond, her eyes firmly fixed on blood splatter that had painted the wall.

“Laurella!” He shook her again.

She turned her head. “He’s dead,” she said flatly. “I killed him.”

Calum’s heart squeezed. If that bastard had hurt her, he’d kill him all over again. “What happened, beautiful? Talk to me.” Her vacant stare scared the shit out of him.

“I don’t know how he got in. I locked up. I know I did.”

Riddled with guilt, he cursed. He’d meant to mention her crappy locks to Cole and get him to send one of the experts over from work to fix them, but it had slipped his mind. Fuck. It was all his fault.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, terrified of the answer.

She shook her head.

Thank God.

“I’m going to call Cole.”

“No!” She gripped his arm. “I don’t want to go to prison.”

He recognized the signs of shock. Her pale, clammy skin, rapid breathing, and enlarged pupils were all giveaways. He pulled her against him and kissed her hair. “You’re not going to prison. This is America, sweetheart. He broke in. All you did was defend yourself. Cole will sort everything out, I promise. But I have to call him.”

He eased his cell out of his pocket and dialed his brother. When he answered, Calum gave him a very brief rundown.

“I’m on my way,” Cole said. “Sit tight, and don’t touch anything.”

Calum hung up. He got to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Laurella asked, her tone panicked.

“To get you a robe.”

He went into the bedroom, returning with a bathrobe. He wanted to bathe her but didn’t dare in case forensics needed to take swabs. He wrapped her in the robe. Her whole body shuddered and trembled, but with some encouragement, she leaned into him.

Cole arrived fifteen minutes later, Draven in tow. The two of them took one look at the scene and then over at Calum.

“We have to call it in,” Cole said.

Within minutes, Laurella’s apartment was swarming with officials. Detectives questioned her, and forensics took their swabs. Laurella answered quietly but fully. Cole promised to take her down to the station the next day to make an official statement. The police bagged her clothes in an evidence bag, including the robe Calum had dressed her in when he’d found her, and then they were told to leave.

Calum found another robe which he swaddled her in. He packed her an overnight case, and then took her back to his place. She hadn’t said a word on the journey home in the back of Cole’s squad car.

Calum left her sitting on his bed while he turned on the shower. He glanced at his watch. Two in the morning. She must be exhausted, but he couldn’t let her sleep with that filth’s blood all over her.

He walked back into the bedroom and gently eased her to her feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He slipped off her robe and quickly took off his own clothes, then climbed into the shower with her. She stood with her head down as he washed every trace of blood, every trace of him from her body.

Once clean, he dressed her in one of his T-shirts. He combed the knots from her hair and then he dried it. Throughout the whole process, Laurella didn’t speak. She looked like a lost little girl. His heart clenched with sorrow for her, while his anger burned.

He drew back the covers and helped her into bed then climbed in beside her. He rested her head on his chest and curved his arm around her shoulders. It took an age, but eventually, her breathing evened out, and as exhaustion took over, she fell asleep.

Calum, though, lay awake, his mind racing as he went over the last few hours. She’d said Vorino hadn’t hurt her, both to him and the police, but the fact remained that he’d found her almost naked. What had gone on in those minutes she’d been alone in the apartment with that bastard that she had chosen not to share? He had to know. He couldn’t bear the thought of Vorino’s hands on her.

Eventually, he fell into a fitful sleep. When he awoke, he was lying in an empty bed. Fear shot through him, and his body shook.

“Laurella?” he called out, scrambling out of bed. He’d half tugged on his jeans when she appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, a toothbrush in her mouth. She held up a finger then disappeared back inside. He sank onto the bed as his legs gave way.

She was back a moment later. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Are you okay?”

She shrugged. “I’ve had better nights.”

He held out his arms and was relieved when she virtually threw herself at him, a very different response from the previous night. “I’m so sorry, Calum.”

“For what?”

“For zoning out on you.”

He grinned. “Zoning out?”

She returned his smile. “Looks like I’m becoming more American by the day.”

“I knew we’d wear you down.”

She laughed then. It was brief, but he’d take it.

He cradled her jaw. “Baby, I know what you said to the police, but I’m more worried about what you didn’t say. Please talk to me.”

Her face fell. “He was going to assault me again. So I played along.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She covered his hand with her own. “I couldn’t beat him physically, so I made him think I wanted him.” Her head dropped, her gaze fixed on the floor. “I kissed him. It disgusted me, but I did what I had to do to survive.” She hitched one shoulder. “I’m so sorry if you think I’ve betrayed you.”

If that bastard wasn’t already dead, I’d fucking kill him.

He gently nudged up her chin. “I couldn’t love you more.”