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The treadmill in the building’s gym didn’t provide Ox with the challenges his normal run did, but today, it would have to do. No way was he going to leave Eveline alone in his apartment while he ran the streets in the early hours of the morning.
He’d been woken by his recurring nightmare. Only this time, it was different. It wasn’t Penni that he couldn’t stop from being taken, but it was Eveline. He lay on the ground, blood seeping from the bullet holes as Eveline was dragged away.
Ox had woken in a cold sweat, his heart thundering in his temples, and he’d been on his feet, hurrying down the hallway to his room where he’d insisted Eveline sleep there while he took the guest room.
His breathing and pounding heart had settled upon seeing her in the middle of his bed, clutching the pillow he normally rested his head close to her.
Like the last time he’d had his nightmare, he hadn’t been able to shake the lingering effects. Logically, he’d known that what happened to Eveline had triggered the change in his dream, but it didn’t make it any easier to digest.
There was nothing Ox could’ve done to stop the ransacking of Eveline’s place. All he could be grateful for was that she hadn’t been at her home when it’d happened.
Growler had reported that Eveline’s neighbors were all okay. Some had heard the crashing and thumping, but after one of the residents had been bashed unconscious when they’d interrupted a robbery in progress a couple of weeks prior to Eveline’s break-in, so they hadn’t wanted to take the risk they could end up like them.
They also hadn’t called the police when things had been quiet for a while because they’d seen him and Eveline pull into her complex.
The fact they hadn’t thought to warn them annoyed the fuck out of Ox. He could accept their reasoning for not interfering, but they still could’ve called the authorities while the crime was in progress.
Not that he could change anything. What was done was done, and now all they had to do was wait for the police reports to come in.
Although, he wasn’t going to sit on his laurels, he was going to take the guys with him to Eveline’s apartment to give their own going over. He’d get Cass on the job of sourcing any camera footage surrounding the area, in addition to searching the cameras from Eveline’s attack.
There was a lot to do, and running on the treadmill wasn’t going to get it down, although the run had cleared his mind and now he had a plan of action.
Ox crept into his bedroom clad only in a towel. He should’ve gotten his clothes before he’d showered in his second bathroom. Either way, he would’ve had to come in, but his workout clothes were a better option than a towel.
Eveline slept peacefully, her features relaxed, and he was pleased she wasn’t suffering from any nightmares.
Was that a good thing or not?
If she did have them, he’d be there to help her through them. Ox wouldn’t let her suffer alone—like he did. Suffering alone was his choice.
Fuck, she looks good in my bed.
He’d thought that their one night together. Had thought that maybe it was the start of something special, and then it had all gone to shit.
She was in his bed again—a place Ox didn’t want her to leave. The circumstances of how she got there may not have been how he’d ever expected she would again, but here they were.
He should’ve known that they’d somehow find their way back to each other, what with all the little glimpses and being at the same place at the same time run-ins they’d had.
Now who she worked for didn’t seem like such a big mountain to climb, not after what she’d given him and what’d happened to her.
Was he about to make the same mistake as he did when he and his team trusted the intel Viviana had given them?
No, this was different. Eveline was different.
Her shock when he mentioned Gerald could be involved was genuine. There was nothing fake about her.
He shot into his closet, quickly grabbed everything he needed, and was halfway across the room when he heard it—a whimper.
Ox stilled, waiting.
Would it come again or had he imagined it?
Another whimper sounded, this one a little louder and longer.
Fuck.
He whirled back to the bed, and Eveline’s once smooth forehead was now furrowed. Her fingers clutched the sheet so tightly the whites of her knuckles were showing.
