Broken glass.
Everywhere.
As panic and confusion set in, we both instinctively jump from the couch to the floor in an attempt to protect ourselves. My thoughts race as I try to make sense of what just happened. There is a fluttering in my chest, like that of a hummingbird. The sight, the sound—all of it has my senses on high alert and it’s disorienting. My eyes are frantically pacing the room when I see it. Despite my efforts to calm my breathing, I feel like I might pass out. The only sound is the ringing in my ears.
There, on the floor next to the couch is a very large garden rock. Hastily painted across the smooth surface is another message. One that chills me to the bone.
You belong to me.
I knew he’d found me, he already made himself known. What I don’t understand is why? Why the game? His father made sure I was a wanted woman. I can’t fathom why it’s him and not the police busting through the door. Mark is a very calculated and strategic man. This behavior is either extremely out of character or his plan is larger and more complicated than I am capable of understanding.
Celeste grabs my arm and I feel her yank me off the floor, glass cutting into my bare feet. Where she is taking me, I have no idea. It feels like I’m on the outside watching this happen to someone else. For a moment, I feel like I could convince myself I’m still on the couch. I’m watching some other woman run in terror.
I force myself to focus on the moment. Passing the kitchen, I grab the only weapon I see—the knife used to cut the cocktail lime. In my haste, I manage to cut myself. The juice on the blade stings and hot tears prick my eyes. Just my luck. Celeste drags me down the hall, opening doors in a rush to find what she is looking for. The glass embeds itself further into my skin with each step. Pulling me into a bedroom closet, both of us cuddle up on the floor trying with all our might to remain silent.
Seconds feel like hours.
I have no idea how long we sit in the closet. My hands shake with fear, one holding the knife as blood pours down my arm, the other wrapped tightly in Celeste’s. I can only see parts of her face through the slats in the door. Her face is the picture of strength, the only reflection of fear is the trembling in her hands. Another crashing sound cuts through the house and it takes everything I have not to scream. The sound of wood splintering and heavy boots fill the air.
Determined that I will protect us regardless of the cost, I grip the knife tighter.
“Teagan!” I hear Declan’s strained voice carry throughout the house. Relief washes through me. I can feel Celeste release some of her tension at the same time I release mine.
Kicking the closet door open, I forgot about the glass embedded in my feet and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out. Declan must hear the ruckus because he barrels into the room, gun raised, in full tactical gear. The sight takes my breath away for a multitude of reasons—not a single one being fear. There is no time to process how that makes me feel before he descends upon me.
“Teagan, baby? Look at me.” Kneeling, he takes my face into his calloused palms. His eyes roam the length of me, taking in the damage to my feet and hand.
“Fuck! Sunshine, I am so sorry.” He whispers as he pulls me to his chest. His heart races against my ear and I have to force myself not to interpret what that implies.
Turning to Celeste, he looks her over as well.
“Are you okay?” he asks her. But before he can get out a follow up question, she lets him have it.
“What took you so long! That maniac could have taken her!” She is yelling at him but there is no venom in her voice. She continues her tirade, flailing her arms and mumbling to herself in Spanish. The look in her eyes warms my heart as the realization sets in.
She cares about me.
There have only been two other people in my life that cared that much. I miss them so fucking much.
Celeste pulls me into a tight hug. I squeeze her back just as fiercely, hoping she can feel the emotions I struggle to express.
“Thank you so much,” I finally let out.
“Like I would have let that bastard near you without a fight. I grew up in Opa Locka. I’d have scratched his damn eyes out.” I can’t help but laugh at her statement. I whole heartedly believe she would.
Another set of boots crunching glass pulls our attention to the door. Placing himself between us and the door, Declan reaches for his gun.
“O’Connor, what the fuck man?” Briggs asks, hands up and an amused smile on his handsome face. Dropping his weapon, Declan gets back to business.
“Sorry man. We need to get them out of this house.” Looking back at me and Celeste, he continues. “They both are covered in glass. It isn’t safe here. He knows where I live. I have to take her somewhere, so we can figure this shit out.”
I could tell the moment Briggs noticed Celeste on the floor next to me. His jaw clenches and his breathing picks up as he watches me try to pull glass from her feet.
“Take her to the beach house. There is no way he knows about that place,” he replies, his eyes still on Celeste.
Declan nods his head in thought. “Okay. We’ll head over there tonight.”
“What about the bar? You can’t blow your cover over this. I’m not trying to be a dick about it, but we are so close to ending this.”
“I agree. Wendy makes the schedule. I will just have to make sure she puts us on the same shift. I’m not leaving her alone again.” His statement is final and leaves no room for argument from Briggs or myself.
“There’s one more thing,” Briggs cuts in. “You need to come see this.”
Declan turns and places a gentle kiss on my lips. “I’ll be right back. We will get our stuff together and get out of here.”
“Okay,” is all I can manage. But really, what else could I say?
“What’s going on?” I ask once we are out of ear shot. Briggs doesn’t immediately answer but chooses to show me instead. Walking into the living room, the remains of my shattered window crunch beneath our boots.
No! How did I miss that before? This guy is one sick bastard. Strewn across the floor are glossy images of me and Teagan, clearly taken from the bedroom window. A single red rose takes center place amidst the evidence of last night. The weight of the pictures rests heavily on my chest. Sucking in a deep breath, I take in the photos of Teagan, the star in the most intimate moment of my life. That sick fuck has managed to take that from me. From her.
A guttural roar threatens to escape as I pull out my phone and begin to take photos for evidence. I know I can’t call this in, the consequences are too high. However, this is a crime scene and I’m going to do my best to treat it as such. I crouch, carefully removing the photos from the floor, it would do no good for Teagan to see them. Evidently, I am not fast enough. A gasp slips from Teagan’s lips as she leans against the wall, taking it all in.
“I don’t get it. Why didn’t he try to take her?” Briggs questions, rubbing his forehead in contemplation.
That’s a damn good question.
“Because he is punishing me. It’s a game. He feeds on my fear and the more afraid of him I am, the sweeter the reward when he finally does take me.” She stares blankly at nothing, and it feels like she’s shutting down. “When will this stop? Why does he have to take everything from me?” She asks the questions to herself, but the silence in the room tells me everyone is well aware of her turmoil.
I move from my knees to my feet, intent on comforting her. It kills me to see her like this. No woman deserves to live in constant fear. Before I make it across the room to her, she rears her fist back with a scream and slams it into the drywall.
There’s the Teagan I know. Lucky for her, she hit it between the studs, so it was all drywall and insulation.
“Holy hell! That hurts so much more than it looks like!” She barks, and it takes all I have not to laugh. The spitfire I know she is tries to resurface.
I place a kiss on top of her throbbing knuckles, mostly to console her but partly to cover the smile on my face. She’s adorable and I’m afraid she’d try to kick me in the balls if I told her so.
Teagan takes a step toward the kitchen and I notice she is limping. Fuck, I can see the glass in her feet from across the room.
I scoop her up and place her on the kitchen counter. Taking a moment to look her over, I notice the cut on her hands, too. Shit, I need to get her somewhere and clean her up. Rage starts to build in my chest again as I think about the different ways tonight could have ended. I remind myself that brooding about something I can’t change isn’t going to help. I see Celeste propped up on the kitchen table and Briggs kneeling on the floor below her, presumably pulling out the glass. I am not sure how to process the sight. Briggs hasn’t been near a fully clothed woman, since the Gwen fiasco. He notices me watching him and immediately stands. The softness in his eyes is wiped away and he’s back to Agent Briggs.
“Let’s just get them out of here and I’ll send someone down to board up the window.”
“Where are you taking Celeste?” Teagan interrupts. “We need to help her, look at her feet!”
“I’m fine. A pair of tweezers, some peroxide, a bottle of wine, and I’m all better.”
“I got her.” Briggs surprises me again.
“Got who exactly?” Celeste snaps at him.
This is going to be interesting.
“You can fight all you want, but you’re fucking high if you think I’m going to let you leave alone. That wacko knows you are close to Teagan and you can barely walk. You either go willingly, or I carry you out of here. Your choice, sweetheart.”
Everyone in the room is just as stunned as she is.
Without another word, Teagan wraps her arms around my neck and we make a hasty exit.