Patrick

When I was sure Nya would be quiet, I removed my hand, but held it near her mouth, waiting.

She said nothing, didn’t even seem to breathe, silent, eyes wide with terror.

I felt a moment’s regret but then pushed it aside. Now was a time to act. I’d think about what this meant for Nya later.

The noise had been faint, almost nonexistent, but I knew that I had heard it, and I knew better than to question it. Even if I was mistaken, which I wasn’t, better to overreact than do nothing.

Moving as quickly as I dared, I got up and gestured to Nya to do the same.

She also moved quickly and silently, and by the time she stood I had stepped into my pants and handed her my shirt.

There wasn’t time for more. We had to leave.

I’d been too preoccupied to do a thorough examination of her house, but I knew it was one story, that her room was located in the back.

Which meant the front was our best option.

Risky, but it was either take that risk or stay and fight it out.

I had my preference, but Nya didn’t need to see what a fight might entail, and I didn’t want her in any more danger.

Just the thought of that, her being chased out of her home, me powerless and unwilling to do anything about it filled me with a fiery rage, one that I pushed down, but knew that I would have to deal with eventually.

I grabbed Nya’s hand, then guided her down the hall.

I heard that sound again, still faint but final proof I had been right.

We got closer to the front door, and I noticed the brightly colored glass bowl that sat on a small table next to it. Nya’s keys were there, and I guided her to it and reached for them. Earlier I had considered parking on the street opposite her house, but I was glad I hadn’t. I paused, looked through the peephole, and though it wasn’t the best view, not by a long shot, when I didn’t see anything, I turned the lock and slowly opened the door.

I looked at Nya, nodded my head toward her car, and then waited.

She blinked, then nodded back, and in the next instant I pushed her out.

I didn’t bother to close her door, and instead kept my hand tight in hers, deciding to use the automatic door lock even though the noise would give us away.

Whoever was here had probably realized we were gone, so I would give up the benefit of stealth if speed were the exchange.

Nya ran to the passenger side as I got behind the wheel and we were rolling out of the driveway before her door was even closed.

As we drove away, I looked at the front door, saw a shadowed figure. I couldn’t say whether it was one of the men from the hotel, but if there had been doubt before, it was gone now.

Someone was after me.

I regretted sending Declan home because I could have used some backup right now. How could I have been so careless, so stupid? I had even left my phone in my own car.

Even though I knew the danger, even though I had just spent hours with my brothers considering the possibility, I’d been sloppy and lax. It could have cost me Nya because of it.

I looked at her before quickly looking back at the road, saw that she was quiet, though less shocked than she’d been at the hotel.

She was getting used to this.

Nothing I’d ever done had made me feel worse.

* * *

Nya

Until I had caught a fleeting glimpse of the figure standing in my doorway, I hadn’t been sure what Patrick had heard or seen. But in that moment I was grateful for his instincts, knew that they were the only thing that kept me alive.

Still I was jittery, the remnants of the adrenaline leaving me shaky, but I felt much different than I had before.

Patrick too. He seemed more reflective now, and angry.

It was an interesting thing to see in him. He’d never struck me as that way before. Dangerous, yes, but always calm, never vexed, not even when he was accusing me.

So this was different.

“Patrick…?”

“What?” he snapped.

He didn’t look at me, and for some reason, though his obvious displeasure would have annoyed me before, it only concerned me now.

“I just…”

“Just what? Just want me to let you leave? Tell me how you regret ever meeting me?” he said, his words coming out low, bitter. “I know how you feel about people like me, and I’m not interested in hearing more of it right now.”

I looked at him, somewhat stunned, and then blinked. “No. I was going to ask if you’re okay.”

He looked at me then, and for the first time since I had known him he seemed genuinely surprised. He locked that expression down quickly though, didn’t allow me to see anything else.

It was clear he was angry, something that should’ve been enough to keep me silent, actually was, but I still reached across the console, put my hand on his leg. Squeezed it anyway.

He looked at me, but some of the tension around his mouth relaxed, the hardness that had appeared there softening ever so slightly.

I pulled my hand away then, not sure what had driven me to make such a gesture, but glad I had.

We drove silently, and I assumed we were going back to his house, though I didn’t bother to ask.

Instead, I reflected on what these last days had brought, shocked that something as simple as a promotion and an impromptu trip to a fancy hotel bar would lead to this.

The drive seemed quick, though I had no idea how long it was. In some ways there was something nice about it, just Patrick and me and no one else. Yeah, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and I wasn’t wearing pants, neither of us shoes, but despite the circumstances, there was something almost peaceful about this.

An insane thing to think, but after what had happened these last couple days, was anything really insane anymore?

“Come inside, go upstairs. I’ll be in to see you later,” Patrick said.

He barked his order and got out of the car, all without bothering to look at me, and I frowned, but then emerged.

“Patrick…”

“Later,” he said, calling over his shoulder, still without looking at me.

The way he tried to dismiss me angered me.

“Patrick, don’t you think I need and deserve some answers?” I said.

He stopped, looked at me then, his expression somewhat tortured.

“I’ll find them. Then I’ll give them to you. Later. Now go,” he said.

I stayed still, studied his expression, could see that I would get nothing else from him.

“Fine,” I said.

There had been no reason to say that, and I knew that doing so was simply bratty, my way of at least exerting myself in some small fashion, but I needed something. I didn’t like this Patrick, intractable, rude. So different.

I made my way upstairs into his room, not surprised that I remembered the path so clearly, but looking at the place with new eyes, eyes that were surprisingly calm, even though someone had just invaded my house.

Funny, but I had thought about such a thing earlier today, reflected on how the calm and comfort that I found in my place had been shattered.

But when it actually happened, Patrick being there had made all the difference. Knowing that he was there, that I could trust him made all the difference in the world.

I needed to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen to me now.

So instead I went into his bedroom, closed the door, and did the only thing that was reasonable at this hour.

I climbed into the bed, dirty feet and all, and fell asleep.