Page 58 of After All The Wreckage
“This is different than us trying to get the police to listen, Monte. This is someone we know. I can get her to stay away.”
But could I really? Would Rory even take my call after how I’d reacted?
I had to believe Monte had these visions for a reason. Something—some force in this universe—wanted us to do something about them. Maybe this was the time we couldactually make a difference. Maybe this was the time we could save someone. And maybe this time it would be Demi.
More chills ran up my spine.
I put my arm around my brother, tugging him closer. His head landed on my shoulder. We didn’t say anything else. He was lost in his nightmare, and I was stuck in my churning sea of emotions.
I shouldn’t care what happened to Demi. She hadn’t cared about us when she’d taken everything in the bank account and run once again. But as much as there were days I hated her, as much as there were days I wished Dad had survived and she’d been the one who’d lost her life, I didn’t really wish her dead.
I was here, and Monte and Ivy were here because of her. We were a family because she’d created us. She wasn’t my responsibility any more than we were hers, but I also knew I couldn’t just let her be killed without attempting to do something about it.
I couldn’t let Rory be the one to do it. God… It made me sick to even consider it.
Monte’s breathing evened out, and his body sagged into mine. My eyes closed, the weight of exhaustion and duty dragging me down until I landed in a dark abyss.
? ? ?
Rap-rap-rap. The sharp, annoyed knock on the front door woke me.
Monte had moved while I’d slept. He was back next to Ivy, and they were conked out, dead to the world. I wondered what it would be like to sleep through anything the way they could. Especially Monte. After weeks of tormenting nightmares, he’dsometimes sleep for twenty-four hours straight. The first time it had happened, I’d been so worried, I’d almost called 9-1-1.
The knock sounded again, and I stumbled to my feet. I ran a hand over my face, the thick coat of stubble that I hadn’t shaved in days prickling my palm. On bare feet, I lurched out of the room and toward the front door. Whoever the hell it was needed to go away because even as hard and fast as my siblings slept, they would wake up with the repeated hammering.
“What?!” I growled, tearing open the door.
Rory stood in front of me with a scowl on her face that matched mine.
She was wearing blue jeans and a vivid green sweater. It made that hint of color around her pupils stand out. Her hair was down, the long dark strands spilling over her shoulders and landing on the curve of her chest exposed by the low scoop of the sweater’s neckline. She looked sexy and fierce. Sinfully beautiful.
My body instantly reacted to her, and wearing nothing but gray sweats, it was impossible to hide. I knew the moment she saw it because her eyes widened and then darted away. I crossed my arms over my chest, refusing to be embarrassed.
Instead of stating her business or walking away, she brushed past me into the apartment. I shut the door and turned to stare at her, hoping my glower would send her running. I couldn’t afford for her to be here. She couldn’t afford to be next to us.
I’d intended to call her this morning. Calling would have been safer. That way I wouldn’t feel the electricity zigzagging between us, tempting me to chase after it just as I’d once chased after tornadoes.
She held out a piece of paper.
“What’s that?” I demanded, keeping my voice low, but not bothering to reach for it.
“Your invoice. Like you said. I did my job.” Her tone was perfectly neutral. Cold, even, and as much as I’d seen Rory incontrol, I’d never seen her cold, and something deep inside me objected to it.
Yesterday she’d said she wasn’t billing us, and I’d disliked the idea of being a charity case. But now I wanted to rip the invoice to shreds because it meant I’d wounded her enough to have her standing in front of me as if I was just some random client. I didn’t respond, just took the paper from her hand and slid past her to dig in the desk drawer where I kept the checkbook I rarely used.
As I wrote out the payment, I could feel her eyes boring into my back, stirring emotions I’d tried to tame over the last few days. Desire and lust. An almost raw and uncontrollable need to have her. During our search for Monte, the need had been dulled, but now that my brother was home, it flared to life in her presence until it felt almost uncontrollable.
I ripped the check out, took two long strides, and held it out.
Her fingers brushed mine as she took it, and the mere touch rushed through me like a wildfire in dry brush. Hot. Fast. Dangerous.
She glanced down at the paper, and her throat bobbed before she looked back up. “What’s this?”
“Your money.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s double what my invoice said.”
“You did your job. I got my brother back. Now I need you to stay away from us, Dunn, and anything related to him.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but my emotions broke through on the last few syllables.
