Page 21 of Protected from Malice
“It’s fine.” As I walk towards her, I notice the fresh gauze wrapped around her injured hand. Already there’s a faint pink stain over her palm, spurring on a fresh surge of anger and worry.
Worry that makes my voice go rough as I take her hand in mine and say, “I told you to keep the bandages on your hand in the shower. You reopened the cut. If that keeps happening, it’ll scar.” Unwinding the gauze, I inspect the still-seeping wound. “I still think you need stitches. It’s not too late to go to the hospital.”
Eden gives her hand a cursory glance before looking back up at me. “It’s fine, Rafe. I don’t care about a little scar. I’ll just wrap it back up.”
The idea of Eden scarred isn’t just wrong. It’s abhorrent.
Not her perfect hand, so small in mine, now marred with a mark of violence.
No, the intruder didn’t hurt her directly. But his actions caused the damage, even so.
As I wrap the gauze back around her hand, I’m only distantly aware that my fingers are trembling. That my heart is racing.
All I can think about are the terrible ways the nightcouldhave ended.
If I’d been fifteen minutes later, the intruder could have gotten to her. And I would have shown up to her house to find Eden brutally attacked. Bleeding. Dying?—
“Why didn’t you tell me how bad it was?” I grit out. My voice takes on a harsh edge as I continue, “You never should have been home alone. I wouldn’t have allowed it if I’d known. You said it might be nothing.”
Eden blinks at me. “I wasn’t sure,” she starts. “Just because IthoughtI was being followed before didn’t mean?—”
“What?”My voice rises. “You were followed before? When were you planning on telling me? What else didn’t you mention? Did someone else try to break in before tonight? Anyoneelsetry to run you off the road?”
She snatches her hand away from mine. Defensively, she replies, “No. No one else tried to break in. Or run me off the road. I would have told you.”
“Thenwhat?” I demand. A low growl rumbles in my chest. “Because this doesn’t sound like someweird feelingto me. It sounds pretty fucking dangerous.”
Taking a few steps back, Eden wraps her arms around herself. Her gaze drops to the floor. “There was no proof. Just this feeling like someone was watching me. Sometimes I’d see a car behind me the whole way home, but they never did?—”
“WHAT?”
Now I’m full-out yelling. I know I shouldn’t, that it’s not Eden I’m mad at, but all the pent-up frustration and fear and worry is finally breaking free.
“Someone’s been following you? For how long?”
In a whisper, Eden answers, “A couple of weeks.”
What?
A couple ofweeks?
“I would have come last night,” I snap. “Shit. I would have called Indy right away. Why didn’tyoucall Indy? Or the police?”
She lifts her chin. “Because there was nothing to tell him. Just some suspicions that could have been nothing more than an overactive imagination. Just me being paranoid again?—”
Her lips clamp shut. Twin spots of pink rise on her cheeks. Her gaze skitters over to the window and back again.
A terrible feeling settles in my stomach. A sick feeling. A feeling that tells me there’s a lot more Eden isn’t telling me.
“You know how Indy’s been,” Eden continues. “He’s only just started working again. Just started leaving his apartment. I couldn’t mess that up for him. Not when I wasn’t sure.”
A horrible image comes to me—Eden sprawled across the floor in her laundry room, covered in blood, her clothes torn, her body already cooling…
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
It was too fucking close.
Heart pounding, I shout, “You could have beenkilledtonight! That’s a big fucking deal! I don’t give a shit about Indy’s job! You should have told him. You should have toldme!”
