Page 67 of Hidden But Not Safe

Her hands rubbed along her bare stomach under the crop top. Above them, he could see the outline of her hardened nipples. She never wore bras, not that he’d seen.

She licked her lips as she stared at him and squeezed her thighs together.

“Fuck,” she muttered, and then she lunged for him, her body trying to climb him. Her hand grabbed his side, over the bullet wound, and he jerked away, almost knocking her to the floor.

Her hands flew off his body like she’d been burned, and she shuffled back, the limp in her step lessened but still noticeable.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

All he kept hearing from her were apologies. He hated the way she seemed to shrink each time she apologized. He wanted her to say anything else.

“Meg.”

Her eyes flew to his at the sound of her name.

“No,” he forced out. When had saying his most used word become harder to say than her name?

Her head dipped, her shoulders coming up as she cringed into herself. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m such a piece of shit. I’m sorry.”

Naz moved toward her, using his finger to tilt her chin up, then shifting it to place across her lips. “No,” he repeated, though it took even more effort this time as he took in how soft her lips were.

He pulled away when he realized he hadn’t yet cleaned any of the blood off his hands.

Meg licked her lips. Her forehead didn’t look so tight. “You don’t want me to apologize? That’s—” She shook her head, smiling. “That’s so like you.”

Naz was just glad she’d understood. She was high and feeling fucked up, but she still got him.

“Thank you,” she murmured instead. Her hands started moving along her thighs, over her tight shorts. “I feel like my skin is going to peel off. Are we staying here, in the garage?”

He pointed to her and nodded. Then at himself, followed by the door.

“I’m staying here while you check it out. Got it.” She limped to the wall, sliding down to sit on her ass. Her hands came up, and she pressed her face into them. “I’m tweaking on this shit, I think. Unless this is how it’s supposed to feel. I didn’t want to take it. Wish I hadn’t.”

She’d put up a good fight. He regretted not stepping in sooner. Maybe he would have held off his full-blown episode.

He left her in the garage while he searched the house. It was like he’d suspected from the missing SUV. Diego was already gone, off to the next gig, and he’d taken anyone else that had been there with him.

Diego’s monitors were gone, but the house was furnished. The smallest boxes of diapers they’d brought over had been left stacked along the wall.

Diego wasn’t there, but that was better. Naz shouldn’t pull him or Ramiro into the shitstorm he’d created. That way, they could honestly say they didn’t know what the fuck he’d done.

It was too late for cleanup anyway. Still, Ramiro deserved a heads-up.

He pulled out his phone. His stomach swooped when he saw their picture together on the screen. There was a scuff on the edge from when Meg dropped it.

He opened his messages.

‘Had an episode. Too much to clean. Lying low.’

Figuring that told Ramiro as much as he needed to know, Naz sent the message, then switched his phone from vibrate to silent. It would be better to ignore Ramiro’s questions to come.

He made his way through the house to make certain it was clear, ending up in the bathroom off the main bedroom, which held some medical supplies. Enough to clean up the bullet wound and slap on bandages that weren’t his dirty undershirt. Both the front and back of the wound still bled sluggishly. A dark splotch seeped through a single bandage, so he slapped another over each side and called it done.

His rib was tender as hell but not broken after all. He decided not to wrap it.

The rest of his aches and darkening bruises would heal with time. He’d washed the blood off his hands a few times, but the rest of him was still streaked with it. He needed a shower.

Meg was still in the garage. He’d already left her there too long, worried that she’d fuss over him when she needed to be fussed over instead.

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