Page 140 of Nothing to Fear

Because fleeing hadn’t worked when her apartment was burglarized. She’d moved apartment and the cops hadn’t found a perpetrator. She hadn’t called them with the fridge and the underwear because it seemed ridiculous.

What would she do now? Tell them some random person left a message at the front desk for her? Oh, scary. Wasn’t it just as possible that the young, not-exactly-engaged, clerk made a mistake and gave the message to the wrong room?

The creepy message.

“We’ll be together soon.”

He must have said it in a positive way. If being happy or cheery was possible with words like that. No one would hear something like that, engaged or not, and not immediately think creepy. Then again, the world took all kinds of people, and these days, sometimes, everyone was creepy.

What was she doing? Obsessing. Obsessing wasn’t healthy… or helpful.

Loosening her hands, the phone fell to the floor. She covered her eyes and pulled her knees up closer to her chest as she twisted to rest her back against the bed. Why was this happening? She didn’t understand. What made sense?

It would be better.

Would it be better?

Scrambling across the floor, Darroch could be anywhere, she hadn’t even asked. It could take hours for him to get there.

God, please don’t take hours.

She yanked open the mini bar and grabbed a handful of shooters. Darroch. The liquid would pass the time until he got there. If nothing else, alcohol should numb the pain, the fear, the terror.

Courage had to come from somewhere. Where were her wits? Her senses? He’d be there soon. He wouldn’t let her down. She whispered reassurances to herself, unscrewing the cap and sealing her mouth around the top while tipping her head all the way back, soon couldn’t come quick enough.

When the screech of brakes startled her around, she was still on the floor. A few shooters in. Maybe a few too many. How long had it been? A minute? An hour? Two? Could that be him? Oh, God, please—

Hammering on the door quickly answered that question.

“Cherry?” he called.

She pounced to a crouch, scrambling a few feet on her hands and knees before rising in the phases of evolution barely coming upright before her hand found the key.

In the next second, she was trapped against him, his strong arms shielded her from every danger.

“Darroch—”

“I’ve got you, baby.” Seizing one fistful of hair at her crown, he gritted her teeth against her head. Kissing her hard once and twice in the same spot, he locked his other arm around her shoulder blades steadying her. “You’re okay, baby, I got you.” Hand still tangled in her hair, he kept her close. “I’m here, I got you.”

Eyes closed, when he crushed her temple against his body, she didn’t care where or what was happening.

“Thank you for coming,” she said on a series of sobs.

“I’m here. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

Whispering his reassurances into her, he let her cry and curl her fingers into the fabric of his shirt so tight she probably damaged it.

She’d never needed anything more than him right there, right then.

“Oh, my dear,” Alice’s voice was the first thing to open her eyes.

Not that she moved an inch.

“She’s okay, Mom,” Darroch said, still holding her tight, maybe tighter. “I’ve got her.”

“Do we have a description?” That was a male voice, Breckenridge male. “We need to know what the hell went on.”

“Give her a minute, would you? What’s the damn hurry?”

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