Page 39 of Protected from Malice
But he’s here. Because of me.
He could have been cut by the knife that man—Greg—was carrying.
Indy’s going to blame Rafe for keeping this a secret instead of me.
And I’ve been keeping the biggest secret of all. One I was so certain had nothing to do with this, but now… I’m not sure.
Who would want to abduct me? Why?
My heart speeds up as I allow myself to consider the terrible possibilities.
Itcouldbe random.
Itcouldhave something to do with my project at work, I suppose. New drugs are big money, and if mine passes all the clinical trials, it could make some of the other treatments obsolete.
Or it could all come back to what happened two years ago.
As much as I don’t want to talk about it, as much as I dread telling Rafe, it’s irresponsible not to.
Cold creeps through my body, making me shiver. Goosebumps crawl up my arms and legs. The coffee and donut I forced down in the car on the way here coagulate into a heavy lump in my stomach.
Rafe turns away from the window, where he’s tacking up the last of the tiny motion sensors he’s installed throughout the suite. I’ve been watching him silently, trying to focus on the flex of his tattooed arms and the breadth of his wide shoulders instead of the turmoil going on in my head.
I’ve been trying to recapture those moments when we were watching TV together, laughing quietly at the ridiculousness of the contestants but later picking our favorites and rooting for them. When he put his arm around me for just a little while, all the bad things in my life disappeared.
I’m trying to drag out those fuzzy memories of his hand on my head and what felt a lot like his fingers stroking through my hair. Of his voice, still low and rumbly, but with a gentleness that struck a chord deep inside me, reassuring me that I was safe. That he wasn’t going anywhere.
There were even a few times when I wondered if he felt a fraction of what I have for years. If he ever thought of me as more than just Indy’s sister. If he…
It doesn’t matter, though.
Once I tell him, everything will be different.
He won’t look at me the same.
“Eden?” Rafe sets down the handful of wires he’s holding and heads back across the room towards me. He looks more rumpled than usual, which makes sense considering he’s been up for at least twenty-four hours by now. And that’s not even taking into account the altercation in the hotel room or kicking down two doors back at my house.
“Eden?” he repeats. His brows pull into a deep V as he approaches. “Are you okay?”
A beat later, he grimaces. “Shit. What am I saying? Of course you’re not okay.”
“I’m fine.”
Lie. I’m the furthest thing from it.
Rafe stares at me for a few seconds. His already somber expression clouds.
Slowly, almost as if he thinks he’ll startle me, he comes over to the bed and sits at the end of it.
“What can I do?” he asks. “Are you hungry? They have room service here, so I can order something. Do you want something to drink? Tea? Water? Coffee? Whiskey?”
What I really want is for him to hold me.
Really hold me.
Because in this whole screwed-up mess, Rafe is the only part that makes sense.
“Shit, Eden.” His features crease in apology. “I guess we should talk about it.” A sigh, and then heavily, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to see that.”
