Page 8 of Protected from Malice
Tears are still leaking down my cheeks.
My heart is thrumming hummingbird-fast.
I need to talk to someone about this.
Someone I trust.
So I grab my phone and dial one of the few numbers I’ve memorized.
After one ring, he picks up.
“Eden?” It’s rough. Worried. “Are you okay? Is something going on with Indy?”
Just the sound of Rafe’s achingly familiar voice is enough to bring a fresh flood of tears.
“Rafe.” My voice is so small. Wobbly. Scared.
“Shit, Eden.” Hurried footsteps sound on the other end of the line, followed by the hollow clunk of a car door closing. “What’s wrong?”
A sob tries to burst out, but I swallow it. “It’s not Indy. It’s… it’s…”
“Hey, hey,” he soothes. “What’s going on? Are you crying?”
“No.”
Yes.
“Eden. You’re freaking me out here. Tell me.”
“I… I’m not sure. Something happened tonight. Someone followed me. Almost ran me off the road. And?—”
“Fuck!” Rafe utters a string of muttered curses. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I’m not hurt,” I reply. “I just don’t know… Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it was random. But things have been happening…”
“Did you call Indy?”
I shake my head before I remember Rafe can’t see me. “No. I don’t want to worry him. Not if it’s nothing. You know how he is. I just thought… maybe you could give me some advice. Or… I don’t know. Maybe you know someone around here who could help?”
An engine rumbles to life in the background. Then he says, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
My heart jumps. “You will?”
“Of course I will.” Rafe’s voice gentles. “Anytime you need me, Eden, I’ll always come.”
CHAPTER 2
RAFE
This whole situationis all fucked up.
Eden out in Portland, all by herself, possibly in danger.
Eden calling me in tears, sounding more scared than I’ve ever heard her.
Even when she first learned about Indy, after immediately hopping on a plane and flying overnight to Germany to see him, she was calm. Focused on what needed to be done, on finding the best doctors, the best rehab facilities back in the States, anything she could do to support her brother.
I still remember Eden showing up at the hospital, frazzled but beautiful, so fierce as she asked—no,demanded—to talk to all of Indy’s doctors. She didn’t shy away from the violence of it; of Indy’s soon-to-be amputated lower arm and the dozens of cuts and bruises littering his body. She wanted to know the medical part. How long the recovery would be. His options for prosthetics. The best specialists for his type of amputation.
