Page 204 of Saving Her

“It’s not his fault if Robert followed them.”

“From where? The airport? After they were hurried onto a private jet from Greece?” He shakes his head and winces with the movement. “You think Luther preempted his own death, arranged for a jet, and had Robert waiting here in Portland?”

“Maybe Abi called someone. She could’ve told anyone she was going home.”

“Benji wouldn’t have risked it. There’s no way he would’ve let that information get out.”

“Then I don’t know.” I throw my arms up at my sides. “Maybe someone found them. Maybe some random person suspected something when they went for food, or gas, or whatever. Maybe Luther had a database of all the women he stole.”

I’m clutching at straws. Scrambling.

Luca grins, the tweak of lips unkind. “You think Luther had a database? You seriously think he documented his crimes for someone to find?”

“No,” I admit. “He was too paranoid, but—”

“You’retoo paranoid,” he counters. “You’re losing your shit, Pen. You need to pull yourself together.”

“And you’re complacent and dismissive. There are things you don’t know, Luca. Things I haven’t told you.”

His eyes narrow. “What things?”

I don’t want to say. Not now. Not after his heartfelt admission earlier.

“Penny?” He shoves from the bed. “What things?”

I lick my lips to ease the painful dryness. “I don’t want to cause more trouble between us.” I need to keep this to myself. Even Tobias knew not to announce his suspicions until he whispered them in my ear.

“There’s no trouble between us, shorty. That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?”

“A learning curve.” He eats up the distance between us, the tight pull of his brows announcing the pain continuing to pummel him. “No matter what happens, I’m still protecting you with my life. Nothing changes that. There’s not one damn thing you could tell me to cause trouble.”

“I could test that theory.” I could… but I don’t want to.

“Let me prove myself to you.”

I shake my head, unable to voice my deeper suspicions.

“Come on, Pen. You know you can trust me.”

I stare at him. At the conviction. The plea for understanding.

The problem is, I believe him. I believe everything he says yet he can’t give me the same in return. “I recognize his voice, Luc.”

“Whose?” He scrutinizes me.

My heart thunders, each beat rampant. “Benji’s.” I swallow again, unable to get enough moisture as Luca frowns at me. “I heard him on the phone the day Abi died. At first, I thought he sounded familiar because his tone is a lot like yours. But that’s not it. I didn’t realize until Tobias said something that his voice was familiar because I’d heard him speaking to Luther.”

“What did Tobias say?”

“That the voice of Layla’s husband sounded like one of the men his baba spoke to all the time. That he hadn’t met your brother yet, but was worried he was a bad man.”

He stiffens, his shoulders snapping rigid. “What conversations did you hear? What was discussed?”

“I can’t remember.” I wrap my arms around my waist. “Tobias didn’t say, either. And I admit, I didn’t sense a bad vibe when I first heard him in Portland, but now things are getting messed up and I don’t know what to think.”

Incrementally, his tension lessens. The rigidity fades as he cups my cheeks. “Do you hear what you’re saying? You have no basis for these accusations. Your head is filled with stress from trauma.”

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