Page 69 of Splintered Security
I don’t know where he is. I’m just sitting here, stewing in my anger. I can’t eat, can’t drink, and I could wear a pattern in the hardwood with my pacing.
I’ve scoured the kitchen drawers and the spaces in the mudroom for keys to that stupid bike in the garage. I’d call for a Lyft, but I don’t have any idea where to go.
When the garage door lifts on its tracks and headlights sweep the front of the house, I’m fit to be tied. He said he wanted me to give it to him straight. He’s about to get what he’s asked for.
I stomp to the door and throw it open, watching him slide out of the driver’s seat. I storm over to him and put my hands up to shove his chest. Instead, he folds me into his arms and kisses the top of my head.
“Glad to be home, Sunshine. You game for getting out of the house?”
“You just said you were glad to be here.”
He squeezes me from the circle of his arms. “Youare my home, Annika. And you’re safe.” He pulls back and bends to take my mouth. It’s passionate but tender, his soft lips forming against mine, parting mine, and slipping his tongue inside.
“Nothing I want more than to bury myself inside you, Wife, but I bet you want to see your mom even more than I want you, which is saying something. We need to get back to the Springs to the hospital.”
I pull back from him, gazing into the warm, inky pools. “When can we leave?”
“How long before you can be ready?”
“I’m ready now.”
He looks me over top to toe. “You’re in your pajamas. I’ll pretend I’m okay with you being in your pajamas with Liam Murphy here.” He turns me in his arms and gives me a shove toward the steps. “I’m not, by the way.”
“I’ll pretend I’m okay with you going radio silent for sixteen or seventeen hours. I’m not,” I throw over my shoulder.
A light tap hits my ass. “Get ready. You keep throwing sass, we might smell like sex visiting your mom, and I don’t think you want that.”
I stop dead and turn to him, planting my hands on my hips.
“Don’t threaten me, Ren Gallo.”
“Don’t tempt me, Annika Gallo.”
His smile is teasing and sexy. That jaw with more than a five o’clock shadow. The black brows slanted across his forehead. Damn, my husband is gorgeous.
“The look in your eye says you think we have time.”
My face morphs. I can feel it. My anger melts into worry as I return to his body—so safe and so broad—and faceplant into his chest. “Is Mom okay?”
He exhales enough to rock me back, enough to tell me to brace. “She’s beat up. She went through some things. Her face is pretty bad. Giltenhouse hit her more than once. We’ll know more when we get to the hospital. That’s what I was able to tell when I got to her house. I haven’t seen her since the ambulance took her away… That was this morning.”
“This morning?! It’s been hours. Why haven’t you told me?”
“I can tell you everything now or I can tell you in the car on the way to see your mom. Which would you prefer?”
“Ugh!” I hate when he’s rational and calm. Grrr.
I spin on my bare heel and stalk to our bathroom, rushing through the basics of what I can get away with.
Teeth brushed, face washed, and hair in a messy bun, I’m dressed and in the car, tapping my foot on the floorboard in irritation in less than seven minutes.
“Well?”
His lips twitch. “Well?”
“Tell me everything. Start at the beginning.”
He does. Down to being detained and questioned at the police department for hours. It took longer than normal since he refused to allow them to search his phone. Something about him not being read his rights since he wasn’t arrested or accused of any wrongdoing.
