Page 83 of Catch Me When I Fall

“What did he give her?”

He pushed back from the table, moving away as I bent over to read his screen, my hands braced on the table. Fury boiled in my gut as I read the results.

Nightwalker.

“Son of a fucking—”

I pushed off the table, the sound echoing through the kitchen as I ran my hands through my hair.

“Where does a fisherman like Leo Samuels get a drug like that?” Jake asked.

I twisted my neck to find him in the living room, looking out Carrie’s front window now. He looked at me over his shoulder, his lip curling in disgust.

We both knew the fucking answer.

Devils Den.

Chapter 22

Carrie

My eyes slowly opened, and I squeezed them shut, bringing my hands up to my face. The sunlight was pouring into my room, and it was too much. I groaned and moved my legs, stretching them as I raised my arms, arching my back. I moaned through the stretch, feeling like absolute shit.

Once more, I slowly opened my eyes, letting the light in and this time, it wasn’t as bad. It took a few blinks, but finally, my vision adjusted to the morning light that bathed my room. I usually kept my curtains closed when I was sleeping. Slowly, I sat up, leaning back on my elbows as looked around the room.

I felt fabric on my legs. I pulled off the throw blanket and I looked down.

What the hell?

“Where are my PJs?” I whispered. I never slept in pants, always shorts.

“Careful.”

I jumped, letting out a yelp as I twisted my head to find the bounty hunter leaning against the door frame of my bedroom, his arms folded over his chest. He was dressed in simple, dark-washed jeans that hung on his hips like they were made for him and only him, and a dark gray Henley. His eyes were guarded, watching me closely as a muscle in his cheek jumped.

“What are you doing here?” I breathed, bringing a hand to my heaving chest, my heart pounding underneath my palm.

His features softened, sadness flickering in his dark eyes. “Carrie, what’s my name?”

I blinked, and when I didn’t answer, he bent is head, muttering a curse. When he lifted it again, he asked a different question. “What’s your name?”

My brows came together. “You just said it. My name is Carrie,” I told him, confused.

The bounty hunter held my eyes for some time before he softly demanded, “And what’s my name?”

I opened my mouth but shut it when I heard a soft meow from beside me. My eyes widened as I looked at the orange cat perched on the far corner of my bed, licking his chops. “Tic-Tac, how’d you get in?”

“We’re not naming our cat that,” the bounty hunter noted from the door, judgment laced through his deep, velvet voice.

I looked back at him. “Our cat?” I practically shouted.

That didn’t phase him. “I know what I said.”

I jerked back. “Our fucking cat—” I cut myself off and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but if you think you can just show up in my life after six months and claim my cat, you have another thing coming.” I tried standing up and walking around the bed, my finger raised to the beautiful but infuriating man.

He pushed off the door frame, his brows raised. “Baby, take it slow.”

A wave of dizziness crashed into me and goosebumps shot down my body as an unpleasant chill followed. I looked to the bounty hunter as my knees wobbled. Our eyes met, and everything—the horrors from last night—came rushing back to the front of my mind.

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