Page 44 of Keeping Ava

“Let’s get you in the shower and—”

It’s my turn to be cut off with her finger on my lips. She leans over me, standing beside my dresser and holding my cell phone in her hand. Her look says it all. She’s worried. “You can spoil me later. Deal?”

“Deal.” With that she leaves, throwing me a sexy smile over her shoulder before closing the door to my bathroom.

The phone in my hand pings again, pulling my attention away from her and toward my phone. It’s Perez and changes the direction of my morning completely.

He’s been spotted. Empty warehouse in Yuma with the girl. ~Perez

Come in, I’ll send McGrady and Stein to watch the building. Let’s bring him in and end this. ~Perez

We leave in thirty. Not up for discussion. Copy. ~Perez

I’m typing out a response before processing it all, another kind of energy taking over. This one is thirsty for vengeance.

For every life he took.

For Ava.

It’s time to end this sick motherfucker.

Chapter 14

Ava

I’m restless. Scared.

Full of worry. A gut feeling that’s made me scrub Elijah’s home from top to bottom—work myself into a state of exhaustion that keeps my mind from falling down the rabbit hole of despair. From thinking the worst.

That he’s hurt. That he’s in danger.

That he’s out there looking for Jason God knows where.

So many things could happen. Could go wrong. And what’s worse, I can’t do anything to stop this.

Keep it together. He’ll be okay.

“Breathe in and out, Ava. Everyone will be okay,” I repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. My mantra. Maybe if I say it enough, I’ll will it into existence.

But then I remember another set of words. Words he himself told me a few weeks ago.

He’s human. We all are.

And it’s that what-if that’s killing me. It’s hitting me so hard in the chest because I failed to stay away.

I fell for him. Completely and utterly.

Moreover, while I didn’t mean to, I’m paying the price of my stupidity.

Not that it could be stopped, but I knew from the moment our eyes met that being together would hurt. That letting my walls down would be my—our—downfall.

If he doesn’t come back home in one piece, I’ll—

No. I won’t even entertain the idea. Can’t.

Closing the top drawer of the dresser inside my room, I stretch my neck and the small pop it gives doesn’t ease a single bit of my tension there. Instead, it pulls a bit and I hiss in discomfort, bringing a hand up to massage the sore spot while holding my clothing with the other.

I’m stressed and tired. Need him to come back home to me.

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