Page 89 of Promise of Destruction
Dimitri appraises me, looking for any sign as to whether I’m telling the truth. He’s quiet a moment, so I close my eyes and press my fingertips against them, hoping the pressure will gouge the photos out of my mind’s eye.
I hear a gull squawking somewhere and choose to focus on that. I may not have liked therapy, but it did teach me a few useful things… healthy ways to cope with obsessive overload.
“If you need help…” Dimitri hesitates when my eyes fly open to find him close to me.
He’s a good-looking man… sandy blonde curls fall in his hazel eyes, and his lips are the softest shade of pink. He’s pretty more than sexy, the opposite of Declan with his rugged, all-man exterior. And yet, he’s still got shoulders that look capable of carrying the weight of the world. I think inexplicably of Atlas, forced to carry the world on his back day in and day out.
“What?”
“I don’t know your situation.” Dimitri nods, like he’s agreeing with something I’ve said. “But if you need out of his grip, if he’shurtingyou, we can help. It may take some time, but its what we do. You just have to let me know if that’s what’s going on because from an outside perspective…” He stops, sighs. “Remy is better than me at all of this. I just mean if he’s forcing you, all you have to do is let me know and we’ll get you out.”
“Forcing me?” I blink. “No.”
Dimitri raises an eyebrow. “No?”
“No,” I nod. “It’s nothing like that. We work together. I just… I think I had a panic attack down there.”
“Mm,” He stands, then offers me a hand that I take before I can overthink it. He’s sturdy, his grip comfortable as he helps me to my feet. When my eyes meet his, they’re gentle. “Does that happen often?”
“More than it used to.” I sigh. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to worry about me.”
He doesn’t look calmed by that. In fact, his eyes flash with something I don’t understand. “Let me take you inside. Get a glass of water… or something stronger if you wish.”
“Oh no…” I shake my head automatically. “I don’t need anything.”
“Look,” I’m not sure what he wanted me to look at: his face, or his fingers that brushed against mine. My breath catches in my chest, uncomfortable with the sudden contact though it didn’t seem intentional. I glance from where his touch met mine to his warm eyes. “I don’t play with people who hurt women. If you say you’re okay, I have no choice but to believe you. But that’s not going to stop me from protecting you from the shit that you don’t need to see. I’m not sure why Evers thought bringing a friend to our business meeting was appropriate, but this isn’t the place for you… not now. So, I am going to take you inside. The housekeeper, Elaine? She will be ecstatic to have something to take her mind off of everything for a little bit. Okay?”
He just said a lot of words that my brain hasn’t figured out how to comprehend yet, so I simply say “okay” and let him lead me into the house.
fifty-eight
Declan
I’mseethingatthethought of his hands on her, but I’m not stupid. The best thing I could do for her is let him lead her away without incident. I should have kept the gun on my person like he apparently did. I’d brought protection, of course, but it’s in my bag. There’s no way I would have gotten to it before he could pull the trigger.
While I don’t want to die, a gun to the head doesn’t paralyze me with fear. If it was just me that I had to concern myself with, I’d have kicked him in the knee and dove for my own weapon, seeing who could shoot first. But I’m not gambling with her safety.
If I die, Soren is at the mercy of my enemies. If I die, she will likely be swept up in their business, just another girl stolen from the world, her identity erased by the softwareIcreated, her screams a lullaby for some twisted fucking sadist on the other side of the world.
No, if I die, she suffers.
So, I tame my anger, set the bag with the gun on my lap and close out of the screen I left up before we disembarked the plane.
I can’t blame her for that reaction, honestly. I never should have left that on my screen—it’s stupid, the kind of mistake that there are no words to even explain. She probably thinks I left them there for her to find; She’s made it clear since before I even knew anything about her just what she thinks of me.
Fuck.
I try to type, but my fingers fumble on the keyboard, slipping on the wrong letters. It takes longer than it should, probably because I’m acutely aware of how long it’s taking Dimitri to return with Soren. When I finally get the name Rhea Boudreaux in the search field, it returns no results.
Motherfucker.
I slam my fist into the keyboard, watching the screen populate a nonsensical string of characters. It does nothing to assuage my frustration, so when Dimitri walks back in alone, I curl my fingers on the gun and wait for him to make a move.
“Where is she?” I demand, grinding my teeth together to keep anything more at bay.
“I was going to ask the same. Do you have anything?” He nods to the laptop, his eyes never leaving mine. I notice his arms are crossed, though I don’t know if that’s a habit for him or if he’s intentionally trying to look flippant.
“If anything happens to her—”
