Page 24 of Beautifully Ruined
“I have Rafe there, as your roommate, and the cops.”
I frown. “Cops?”
He shrugs. “Your friend is busy, but our man, Zayne is there. It’ll be secured. Look, that isn’t our problem. This is. And do you think those goons who took you are the type to take computer hardware?”
“I’m not even sure they know where the on button is. But…” I want to go. I want to check everything myself.
Only he’s right.
If Rafe’s there, he’ll be able to secure things, make sure nothing like hardware’s taken as evidence.
“Violet’s computer is there.”
“I’ll have Rafe run a check on it, and he can bring it to my place.” His gaze hardens. “Even if your place didn’t currently have a busted door, mine’s safer. I built mine to withstand almost any assault. I had to, if we’re to have our own hub. And my place is big. So, I’ll meet you.”
With that, he gets in the car, and I step back as he takes off.
I watch for a minute and then turn, trying not to limp as the adrenaline seeps away and more of the stiffness settles in.
Shit. Talk about being through the wringer.
At the other car, I open the passenger door to the back seat and hold out my hand.
Violet doesn’t take it.
I bite back a sigh and lean down. “Come on.”
“Why? Are you going to kill me here?”
“I should. For that fucking comment.”
“Asshole.”
“Violet, please. I’m sore. I need sleep.”
She gets out and shoves me against the door, pressing her sweet, warm body against me as she gazes up. “You need a hospital. Is that where we’re going?”
“No. We’re going to Enzo’s. It’s safe there.”
“Is he a doctor? You need a doctor.”
I smooth a strand of hair from her face and lower my head closer to hers. “I need you, and I need sleep. I’ll be fine. I might have a cracked rib or two but beyond that, I’m fine. They make you feel like you’re going to die, but those fuckers were experts at maximum pain to minimum damage.”
“Oh, good,” she snaps, pulling away. “Where do I send the chocolates?”
“They might be dead.”
She sniffs, but behind the sound, I can hear the vulnerability, the aftermath of fear. So, I go around to the front passenger seat and open the door for her. And I wait until she gets in.
Then I get into the driver’s seat. Enough time has past, and I pull out, driving out of the garage and start driving across Brooklyn.
Violet keeps glancing in the side mirror. “Are we being followed?
“Yep. We’re being followed to make sure we’re not being followed if that makes sense. We can’t afford anyone finding Enzo’s place.”
“They know where yours is. I remember that. Clearly.”
“Vi…”
