Page 72 of Protected from Malice
No. It was a damn kid who thought it would be funny to set off fireworks in the elevator.
Who the fuck thinks that’s funny?
I’m not going to pretend I was a model teenager. I drank. I skipped school sometimes. I even egged someone’s car—although I still think they deserved it. But fireworks in a hotel elevator? Not only did it scare hundreds of people and cause damage to the elevator, but the kid could have been seriously hurt.
But kids are stupid, aren’t they? They don’t understand what real damage is. Or how explosives can kill. How they can change someone’s life in an instant.
Eden was much more understanding than me. “I’m just glad everyone’s okay,” she said once we returned to the suite. “And we don’t have to leave. So that’s good.”
I’m not convinced. Yes, the hotel was deemed safe. But there’s no guarantee something might not happen again. I’d rather have a house with lots of property and an impenetrable fence surrounding it, like they do at the Sleepy Hollow HQ and the Texas ranch.
Tyler claims anonymity is a good thing. That with so many rooms, it would be near impossible for anyone to find Eden in one of them.
Maybe he’s right. But I’d still feel better if I had Eden someplace different.
But in all of the chaos, one thing became clear. I need to talk to her. Not in a few days, or tomorrow, or even tonight. Now.
Because any illusions of taking things slowly—of easing into the relationship conversation and all the revelations that will come with it—disappeared in those seemingly eternal minutes it took to get Eden out of the hotel.
Despite all our planning, the second and third and fourth contingencies, I was scared. Not for myself, but for Eden.
What if the situation in the elevator wasn’t an isolated one? What if it was only the first in a sequence of explosions that would turn the hotel into an inescapable inferno? Whatif someone had somehow discovered Eden’s location and was lurking in a corner, waiting for the perfect shot? What if my body wasn’t enough to shield her from harm? What if we all ended up trapped, surrounded by flames, and my last agonized thought was how badly I’d failed her?
Thank fuck, Eden’s safe.
And I know I can’t wait anymore.
I have to know if I really have a chance with her.
Everyone’s still gathered in Eden’s suite—the one she shares with me and Indy—which definitely doesn’t make for the ideal time to pull her aside for a talk. Logic tells me to wait until later, once Tyler, Ace, and Webb have retreated to their own suite for the night. Wait until Indy is occupied with his occupational therapy exercises, andthensubtly pull Eden aside.
But what Ishoulddo and the actuality of it aren’t one in the same.
Eden’s in one of the armchairs, her attention half on some cooking show about an extreme baking challenge that appears to involve crafting a five-tier cake with a working roller coaster attached to it. But her gaze keeps sliding over to me, just as mine keeps going to her.
After another few minutes of itchy inactivity, I say a mentalfuck itand head over to her.
I can feel Indy’s eyes on me as I reach Eden’s side.
She looks up at me with a questioning expression. “Rafe?” Her brow creases. “Is everything okay?”
I try to work my face into a more reassuring expression. “Everything’s fine.” Not really. “Do you have a minute to talk?” My tone lowers. “Privately.”
Worry shadows her gaze. “Oh. Okay.” She pushes up from the chair. “Does the bedroom work?”
“That’s fine.” Resisting the urge to put my hand on her back, I gesture for her to go ahead of me.
Curiosity is hot on my back as I follow Eden into the bedroom. But I’m not explaining. Not making excuses. Not hiding. I’m going to bare myself to Eden and see where the cards fall.ThenI’ll worry about what to tell Indy and the rest of the guys.
Once we get inside the bedroom, Eden goes over to the bed and sits down, watching me expectantly. I shut the door behind me and go over to join her, feeling more nervous than I can remember in… shit. I don’t know. Maybe in high school, waiting for my ASVAB results. But since then? I’ve had brief flickers of uncertainty. Moments of fear. But actually feeling nervous? No.
“What’s wrong?” Eden asks. She touches my hand, curling her small fingers around it. “I know it’s something. I can tell from your face.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I repeat. “It’s just—” My heart thuds hard. “Well.” Another beat. “Shit.”
“It sure seems like something’s bothering you. Is it because of the alarm going off? Because that wasn’t your fault.”
“You were scared.”
