Page 3 of The Devil We Know

“Can you walk?”

She’s trembling, and I know we’re on borrowed time before the shock wipes her out completely, so I pull out my phone, open the GPS app, and hand it to her. “Put in your address.”

She takes it from me with shaking hands. It takes her a few attempts before she’s happy with the coordinates that pop up, then she hands it back to me.

Still, she says nothing, so I stoop down, wrapping my arms around her upper body and pulling her to her feet. She comes willingly, though the tension in her body is evident. I drop my head and whisper near her ear, “I’m going to need you to walk. I’ll wipe the cameras, but just in case I miss one and it shows me carrying you out of here, people might ask questions.”

She leans into me suddenly, her face pressed into my neck, as a deep, guttural sob wrenches from deep inside her chest. I tighten my arms around her, pulling her in for a moment until she lets out a shuddering exhalation, and then I release her, my arms moving to her biceps as I step back and look into her face. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

She nods and then steps back, straightening to her full height. I turn to walk out the door, reaching back with my hand, which she takes in both of hers. I lead her from the room and down the hall, grateful the elevator is still there.

As I step onto the elevator, I watch her facial expressions in the mirror, noting how calm she appears on the outside. It only takes us a few minutes to reach my car. I help her into the passenger side, shutting the door and going around to get behind the wheel.

Luckily, she’s only a short drive from the office. Thankfully, when we arrive, she tells me where to park.

I shut off the ignition, exit the vehicle, and walk around to the passenger door, but when I open it, she doesn’t even look at me. She’s staring at the dash, visibly shaking and teeth chattering, so I stoop down, gather her up into my arms, and ease her out of the car. I heft her up, swinging around and using my ass to shut the door, and then I ask, “I’m a little late asking you this, but do you have your keys?”

She continues to shake as she rests her head against my shoulder and whispers, “Don’t need them.”

I frown, heading toward the entrance to the building. “What do you mean? How are you going to get in?”

She laughs, short and bitter, as she mutters, “I’m the key.”

It takes me a moment to understand what she’s referring to, and then I laugh to myself as I recall Declan asking me to set up security at an apartment downtown. I’m sure she doesn’t know that that’s how it came about—not the owners of the building—but I suppose I’ll keep his cover for now.

But this also means I could easily gain access to her apartment.

“What number?”

She doesn’t answer, and as I approach the doors, the doorman comes out and nods to me, so I turn so he can see who I’m carrying as I say, “I’m afraid she’s fallen ill while we were out. Are you able to let us up?”

He steps in close so he can get a look at her face and then asks, “Are you okay, Jessica?”

She peeks an eye open, the corner of her lips turning up slightly as she nods.

The man steps back, opening the door and motioning for me to enter, and then I follow him through the lobby to the set of elevators. The elevator doors open, and he motions for me to enter first. As I turn to face the doors again, he reaches in and presses number ten, looks at me, and says, “There’s onlytwo apartments up there. She’s apartment A. If you have any problems getting in, buzz me.”

“Thank you,” I respond politely. It isn’t that I’m not grateful for the assistance; I was just leery of any witnesses surrounding criminal deeds.

Not wanting to put her down, it takes some maneuvering to get us into her apartment.

I close the door behind us, jostling her to get her attention as I ask, “Where’s your bedroom?”

“End of the hall,” she replies.

I walk in the direction she indicated, the door at the end of the hallway being open. I enter the room, heading directly to the bed and setting her down on it gently. “I’ll be right back.”

I walk back down the hallway, quickly locating the kitchen, where I grab a bottle of juice and a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Returning to the bedroom, I find she hasn’t moved at all, so I set the two bottles on the nightstand and then adjust her on the bed, so her head’s on the pillow.

Though I managed to remove a lot of the blood from her previously, I know if she wakes up to any evidence of what happened, it could set her back.

So, I remove her shoes, walk into the ensuite bathroom, and turn on the shower.

Back in the bedroom, I see she still hasn’t moved, so I walk over to her, putting an arm beneath her and forcing her to sit up. She still looks somewhat vacant, although some of the color is back in her cheeks.

“You need to get cleaned up.” She nods but says nothing, so I ask, “Do you think you can do it?”

At first, she nods again and then moves like she’s going to stand but immediately gives up on the idea. Then she shakes her head and whispers, “No. I don’t think I can.”

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