Page 33 of A Beta Protects

If I bump into someone, I’ll tell them I came down to grab some water. If not, I can get undressed in the utility room, stuff my clothes in the washing machine, shut the door, and in a couple of hours, I’ll have properly washed clothes. An hour after that, the tumble dryer would have done the work of drying instead of a hairdryer that cuts out every five minutes.

I encounter no one on the steps.

A light drifts from under one of the closed entryway doors. Maybe Galen’s office? It’s the same room Sierra went in earlier, complaining about having to call the bank.

Whoever it is in there—or maybe someone just left a lamp on?—is quiet.

I tiptoe past the closed door, and into the utility room off the kitchen.

I flick a light on, open the washing machine door, and frown at a blue T-shirt.

Just one T-shirt.

So, should I wash my stuff with…

Wait a second. Wasn’t Dom wearing that earlier?

Never mind. Just take it out and wash your stuff. If you wash his, he’ll know for sure that you were in here.

I pull the T-shirt out and freeze.

A massive red stain covers half of the bottom portion of the material.

Blood.

I don’t know why I’m convinced that’s what it is, but I’m sure of it.

Dom was wearing that T-shirt when he took me into town. He suddenly stumbled, which, if you knew a Marine, you’d know they don’t stumble. Now I find a bloody T-shirt with a bullet hole in the washing machine.

He didn’t stumble. Someone shot him, and he hid it from me.

I’d leave right that second, but I need my car keys I left on top of the dresser. I shove the T-shirt back in the washing machine, turning off the lights as I rush out.

Then I sprint up the stairs, dump the bathrobe on the bed and step into my sneakers as I grab my car keys, and hurry down them again.

I thought Shawn had convinced Bryce to look for me elsewhere. It looks like Shawn didn’t convince him of anything at all. No one else has a reason to want to hurt Dom.

Which means Bryce is here, somewhere, and if I don’t get out now, someone will die.

I jog down the porch steps, leaving the front door partially open so no one hears me close it, then I run for my car, get in, and start the engine.

No one followed me. Which is good. That’s good. I pull on my seatbelt, twist around in my seat to make sure no one parked up behind me, and when I twist back to the front, a scream tears from my throat at the figure standing directly in front of my car.

It’s a familiar figure. Which is the only reason I stop screaming.

Dom.

He strides around to the driver’s seat. It’s dark and his expression is impossible to read.

I should start the engine and go. I do nothing when he opens my car door and looks at me. “Please don’t leave, Kira.”

“Bryce shot you!” It’s too dark to see his chest, but I remember what I saw. “I found your shirt in the washing machine. It happened in town today, didn’t it?”

He doesn’t respond.

I turn back to my wheel. “I can’t stay here where?—”

“Can I show you something?” Dom’s quiet question halts me.

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