Page 17 of Unchained

Tension strangled her insides. No. She didn’t want him to leave. She was a helper to a fault. Blame it on her nursing background or whatever, but she liked to help people in need. Brooks was in need, and in danger. He must have knocked while she was in the shower. Without a doubt he could have broken the door down with one thump of his shoulder, so the fact that he’d tried the knob meant this wasn’t a total invasion.

“No,” she said, her voice small, before she could stop the word. Dang it. She sucked in a breath and stepped back, opening the door wider so he could enter. She needed to change into something decent, then give him the ride she’d intended to offer him if she found him. “Wait here. I need to change.”

He stood in the small laundry room/mudroom and folded his arms over his chest. “Take your time.” His low drawl was way too sexy for someone so ruthless.

Get a grip.

She turned on her heel, pulled the yelling kettle off the burner, then went to her bedroom. The townhouse was a perfect size, but now, with him less than twenty feet away and only a kitchen and a bedroom door separating them, it felt tiny. She stared at the door. Why didn’t the thing have a frickin lock? She stripped off the shorts and tank, hopped into the pair of jeans she’d worn that morning, and threw on a thick pullover sweater. She didn’t put on a bra because who had time for that when a dude with serious issues was waiting at her door.

She stepped out and hurried for the mudroom. He stood where she’d left him, his gaze dark and the smile lingering on his mouth soft and patient.

“Do you want a tea or something?”

He tilted his head. “Coffee would be great. I haven’t had that in . . .” He pressed his lips together and shook his head.

She motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen. Curiosity pulled at her brain. The smart thing to do would be to not ask questions unless they were simple—like, would you prefer to go to the bus station or the train station? But she’d never been good at making rational decisions where other people’s needs were concerned.

She pulled down two white mugs from the cupboard. “I only have instant coffee. Sorry. I’m more of a tea drinker.”

He raised one hand, his arms still across his chest. “I’m in no position to complain.”

She added a scoop of instant coffee to the mug then poured boiling water in.

“Cream?”

“Black is good.” He accepted the coffee.

She poured hot water into the other mug, took the tea bag out of the travel mug, and dunked it in the water.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, glancing at the travel mug.

She dragged her top teeth over her bottom lip. He was awfully observant for someone who’d been drugged and sedated for a month. “Um. Yeah. I was going to go for a drive before you showed up.” She peeked up at him.

Interest sparked his eyes. “It’s pretty late for a drive.”

She sucked in her cheeks to avoid smiling but failed. “I was hoping to find you so I could offer you a ride somewhere.”

He nodded slowly then took a swig of his coffee. His hand trembled. Her senses spiked.

She put down her mug. “Are you okay? You’re shaking.”

A muscle jumped at his temple. “I’m fine.”

She moved forward, stopping just before she stepped on his toes. Goodness he was large. Standing this close to him gave her shivers. If he were a violent man, it wouldn’t take him much effort to overpower her. Despite that warning in her head, her body responded positively to the heat radiating off his torso. His biceps bulged under the too-tight short-sleeved shirt, making her ache to run her palm over the muscles.

She cleared her throat. “You’re experiencing withdrawal?”

His jaw turned to downright stone. “Soon.” He shifted his gaze to the clock on the stove. “I shouldn’t stay long. I need to get somewhere I can ride it out.”

Her heart pattered in her chest. Withdrawals were intense. She’d seen her fair share. It might be too much for his body, to stop cold turkey. This was a drug she knew nothing about. “Have you been off it for a long time before?”

He gave one shake of his head. “Not for long. Just enough to suffer before they injected me again.”

She flipped through options as if her mind were a Rolodex in the wind. He shouldn’t be alone. She couldn’t have him here. He couldn’t go to a hospital. Not when they’d be searching for him. “You can’t stay here. Neither can I. They’ll be looking for me, too.”

“If they find you, they’ll kill you.”

Her windpipe constricted. It wasn’t fair. Now she had to be on the run—again. She moved closer, resting her hand on his elbow. She shouldn’t touch him. Shouldn’t get so close. But part of her needed to show him he wasn’t alone and that she wasn’t afraid. “Let me take you to a hotel. You can deal with the withdrawal and, when that’s settled, call your family.”

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