Page 10 of Salacious Devotion

“But you could. You wouldn’t be running if that motherfucker was caught.”

“After the trial. After I testify. Yes. Even if they found him today, that would take at least a year.”

“What if you were hiding until then?”

I shrug. “I can’t just hide, Dane. Where would I hide?”

“At my place. I’ll fucking hide you. No one will ever fucking find you.”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t work that way. Nobody can hide like that. What if it were years or a lifetime?”

“Then I’d be hiding you for that long,” he says as if his idea is simple.

I wish it were.

Chapter 4

Dane

* * *

I stare down at my woman. My life. I’m afraid to blink. This can’t be real. No one comes back from the dead. I’ve had a million daydreams about her somehow returning to me. I’ve thought of so many irrational possibilities.

The reason I’ve been able to pose scenarios in my head is because there was no open casket—a decision her father made because the morgue advised it. They’d said the body was too damaged. They were certain they’d positively identified her from dental records. They said seeing her would leave a lasting image neither of us could ever erase.

It had gutted me, but I’d gone along with it. What they hadn’t warned us was that we wouldn’t have closure. That I would spend the rest of my life wondering if it had really been her. What if she hadn’t been at that bank? Maybe she’d been in another bank branch, and she’d been kidnapped and was being held in someone’s basement. What if she’d been sold in some human trafficking ring? What if she’d had amnesia and was a Jane Doe in some random hospital? And I was just out there living my life, not looking for her.

That’s what happened to my mind because I didn’t see her body. But I never considered witness protection. I didn’t even know the shooter had escaped. I hadn’t paid a bit of attention to what happened to the robbers. I was busy burying my fucking girlfriend.

There’s a knock at the door, and I glance in that direction, annoyed. I know it will be Drake and Easton. They’re worried. They have a right to be. “I need to reassure my friends you’re okay.”

I slide off the bed and pull Paige to her feet, taking her hand because I’m not willing to let her go. I need to touch her.

I shuffle across the room and open the door. Sure enough, the Riley brothers are standing at the door with furrowed brows.

Easton runs a hand over his head. “I’m sorry, man, but I’d be a horrible club owner if I didn’t check on Shannon.”

I nod and step back. “Come in.”

When they both enter, I shut the door.

Drake homes in on Paige. “Are you okay?”

She nods. She also grabs my arm possessively and leans her cheek against my bicep.

I wrap my arm around her and pull her against my side. “We need to talk,” I say to my friends, looking back and forth between them.

Easton nods toward the corner of the room that’s covered with ceramic from the shattered lamp. “I’ll grab a broom.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, pulling Paige around to my front. I need both hands on her.

Easton returns, but when I start to reach for the broom and dustpan, he shakes me off. “I’ve got it.”

I breathe heavily as I watch my friend clean up my mess. He’s quick about it.

Finally, Drake and Easton sit on the loveseat.

I grab a chair from the small table in the kitchenette area and bring it over. I sit and pull Paige between my legs before lifting her onto my thigh.

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