Page 64 of Seek Him Like Shelter

That was maybe the only thing he could have said to force me to stand on my wobbly legs and walk over to my desk to find my purse stashed under it.

“Okay,” I agreed, ending the call as I stared at the mess of my office, feeling like I should clean it up, set things to rights.

But I just turned away from it and into the hall.

“Everyone,” I called, forcing some strength into my voice. “We should all go home,” I said, getting nods from a few of the women who were red-eyed and scared-looking. “Spend some time with our loved ones,” I added. “Say a little prayer for Michael,” I went on. “Don’t talk to the press on the way out,” I added, getting nods from everyone who, by working here, knew how important it was not to leak to the news.

Several of us made our way out at once, and as the cops tried to keep the press back, I slipped away from the crowd, keeping my head down and walking in the direction Elian instructed me to.

Until I felt an arm wrap around me, lips pressing into my temple, then helping me into the backseat of the car before moving in with me.

“I’ve got you,” he said as the driver pulled into traffic. “You’re alright,” he assured me. “We’ll be home in just a few minutes.”

I curled into him, feeling his arms wrap me up tight, holding me together as I fell apart for what felt like the millionth time since I’d met him.

“It’s okay, baby,” he said as the car parked, and the driver climbed out, giving us a second of privacy. “We’re home. Everything’s going to be alright now.”

I never wanted to believe anything so badly.

But there was a knot in my stomach that I couldn’t deny as I followed him into his building, then up into his condo.

Something inside of me was sure that this wasn’t over.

That it never would be until I was dead.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Elian

I walked Elizabeth into my bathroom to wash the blood off of her hands. Then, when she seemed too disassociated to do it herself, helped her out of her stained clothing and into something clean before I took her into my room, and pulled her into the bed with me.

She was all cried out, but she clung to me, let me run my hands down her back and through her hair.

Until, overwhelmed by the events of the day, she drifted off to sleep.

I held her for another half an hour before I slid out from under her, pulling up the covers, then making my way out to the living room to find that Serano had invited himself into the condo.

“Check this,” he said, turning the volume on the TV, and a newswoman was talking about the assassination attempt on Senator Michael Westmoore. “He remains in critical condition,” she concluded before Serano muted the TV again.

“No one knows she was the real target,” I concluded, making my way to the kitchen to grab a bottle of scotch off the cart. “Want one?” I asked as I reached for a glass.

Serano nodded and I poured him a glass before throwing mine back.

“Has Renzo called yet?” I asked as Serano passed me my phone, having left it in the car in my rush to get Elizabeth upstairs and safe.

“‘Bout eleven times.”

“Did you answer?” I asked, tensing.

“The last one,” he said, nodding.

“And?” I asked, impatient.

“Said to call him.”

I reached out and he slapped my phone into my palm as I poured another drink.

“Renz,” I said when he answered.

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