Page 73 of Rush of Jealousy

While I have made many bad choices in the past, it is this incident that tops the list of being the most horrifyingly traumatic.

I could have been raped.

I could have been killed.

My body heats and thaws rapidly as I am bounced down each step leading to the exit.

Her.

That’s all I am right now to Graham. Just aher. And for the first time since meeting him, he has managed to knock down my wall to my heart and decimate it. All with just one flipping three-letter word.

“I can’t”—gasp—“brea…” My eyes widen with panic as Collins shifts me in his arms, his biceps flexing as he darts down a series of stairs, often taking two steps at a time. I count them as we descend—looking for even a minor distraction. My lungs wheeze for air as Collins transports me even faster through the winding maze of steps.

“Through your nose. Small and shallow, Miss McFee,” he instructs, authority present in his tone. I sense his tension through his grip on my body. Despite his pace, I know that he will not drop me. Especially with a boss prone to starting wars.Where is he?

“Grah…Graha—”

“No talking. Just focus on breathing.” He bursts through the steel exit door and into his invisible device says, “We are out.”

The night air hits my exposed legs, traveling up to my waist. I don’t even know what happened to my shoes. I scrunch my face into the white starch dress shirt of the man holding me, trying to avoid any observer’s gaze. I am sure I look as hideous as I feel.

Fuck. What the hell was I thinking? I continue to go back to that line of questioning. My throat clenches like a valve on the water faucet. Open-close-open-close.

Silence. Black spots fill my vision, changing to red and green in color. I squeeze my eyes shut. Make it stop!Open.I gasp and then continue the assault on my lungs again in perfect OCD form. Close-open-close-open-close.

“Not good, sir. Yes,” Collins answers, actually frazzled. “The shock is wearing off. I’m on it.”

The light airy feeling of floating comforts my fraying resolve. Noise of a car door stimulates my awakening senses. Collins sits on the backseat bench and pivots, swiveling in with me still in his arms. I rest on his lap in his coat. How humiliating. My eyes flutter open as my lungs beg for air. I give in.Open.Then I quickly make the valve of my air passageclose.

“Breathe, dammit!” He jostles me like a sack of potatoes. “You are going to pass out!”

I whimper and tremble at the sudden jolt to my body.Don’t hurt me! Leave me alone!He sets me down, and I feel the cool seat beneath my thighs. Hands rub my arms. Shakes. My mind wants to retreat, but my body keeps getting jostled.Stop, please! Leave me alone!

My vision blurs, and my head slumps to the side as my mind starts to—

Smack!

Son of a—

SMACK!

“Stop it!” I scream, my hand instantly going to my bare leg. Ouch! The rush of heat radiates underneath the palm of my tingling hand.

He hit me.

Right on the thigh. Hard.

Tears bubble as I stare blankly at Collins’s determined eyes. He hit me.

“Good. Now fucking breathe!” His snarl is on par with Graham’s. And it is equally annoying.

“You hit me?”

Everyone is pissed at me.

Plastic pushes against my lips, wetting them. Coolness pours into my dry mouth, filling the reservoir. It is juice. Orange. I swallow before the next flood comes—one after another. I am barely given a chance to pull away as I empty the contents of the bottle in one sitting. Some dribbles out of my parted lips, streaming down my chin. My mind returns to earth.

Don’t think about it, Angie. Forget about tonight. Focus.

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