Page 7 of The Caress

I came way too close to losing her this time.

CHAPTERFOUR

ELLA

I feel like I’m running through a nightmare, and everything is a blur. I’ve almost been run over and shot. I’ve lost my suitcase. And now?

Now Keir is somehow here with me, and I’m in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. which, for the record, is the last place I would have wanted to be if someone had asked me just a few minutes ago.

I don’t know who the crazy man with the gun was or where he went. I don’t know how Keir managed to appear out of thin air just when I needed him the most. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to catch my flight now that I’ve almost been murdered in the airport parking garage.

All I know for sure is that it feels impossibly, embarrassingly good to be back in Keir’s arms right now. He risked his life to save mine. Even though I’m more grateful than I can possibly express in words, I also have a lot of questions.

Questions he doesn't seem to want to answer.

"Let’s go." He takes my hand and starts to lead me from the parking garage. "We’ll talk later." I promise."

I wince as I try to walk on my injured leg. Keir immediately stops, supporting me with his body as his expression changes from angry to worried in the blink of an eye.

"What happened?" He looks me up and down as if he’s seeing me again for the first time, inspecting every inch of my body and making me feel unusually vulnerable even though I’m fully clothed. "Did he hurt you? Fuck, were you hit by a motorcycle or a bullet or—"

"No," I interrupt, hating myself just a little for enjoying the way he seems to suddenly care about me again.

I can’t get weak now, though. I have to stay strong. He’s the one who kicked me out of his apartment and sent me off to catch a flight back to New York.

Not that I blame him for any of the craziness that just happened, of course, but it wouldn’t have happened at all if we were still sitting up in his penthouse together.

Just saying.

"I’m okay, I think," I continue. "I honestly don’t know what happened, but I know he didn’t run over me or shoot me. It might just be a pulled muscle or something from when I dove behind one of those cars earlier."

Before either of us can say anything else, two large SUVs come careening around the corner. Keir’s whole body tenses up next to me, and I grip his arm with both hands as a fresh round of terror hits me.

"What’s happening?" I ask, trying and failing to get my fear under control as the vehicles pull up in front of us. "Is it the guy? Is he back?"

"It’s okay," he says, still holding me close even though I can feel some of the tension starting to leave his body. "These guys are on our side. It’s my security detail. I called them earlier and told them to meet me here.”

Oh, my God! I feel like I might throw up. My nerves and emotions are frayed to the breaking point. I seriously can’t handle any more surprises.

"It’s okay," Keir repeats, helping me hobble over to the door of the nearest SUV as three giant muscleheads pile out and surround us. "They’ll take us to my jet that’s standing by on the runway. We can hide out somewhere far away from here. Somewhere safe from the media and from gun-toting lunatics."

"Wait, what?" I stop him just as he’s trying to half-lift, half-push me into the backseat of the vehicle. "I’m not going anywhere with you. I appreciate you helping me just now, but I’m going home. To Manhattan. Today."

His face falls, and the bodyguards around us start exchanging uncomfortable glances as I brace myself against the door and refuse to get in.

"Come on, Ella," he lowers his voice and jerks his thumb toward the backseat. "Just get in, please." "I already told you we can talk later, once we don’t have to worry about getting shot out here in this parking garage."

I actually have to take a second before I reply to make sure I’m not going crazy. Or maybe he’s just gaslighting me? Trying to find out exactly where my breaking point might be?

because I’m definitely there. I’ve reached that point. And if he doesn’t stop with these damned mixed signals, I’m going to scream.

I might scream anyway, just to make myself feel better.

"Let’s get one thing straight," I say, finally giving in and letting him help me into the vehicle. "This is the last thing I want. I'm only going with you right now because it’s too dangerous to stay here in this garage."

"Fine," he mutters through clenched teeth. "We don’t have to get along or be happy." "We just have to get out of here."

And God, if that statement doesn’t perfectly sum up our relationship, I don’t know what does.

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