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“The accident.” Thea tilts her head back to meet my gaze. Stark fear fills her eyes. “It wasn’t an accident. Someone was waiting in the car for me. They had a gun.”
Icy fingers trail down my back. “Who did?”
“I don’t know.” Her chin wobbles, and more tears escape. “I don’t know. But they knew my name.”
“Did they make you crash the car?”
“No.” And her next words fill me with boiling rage. “I did. It was the only way I could think of to escape.”
I used to think the police were helpful.
Until they sent Thea away with weak platitudes and vague assurances that they’d do what they could to investigate. Couched with statements like, “With the car totaled and already at the junkyard, it’ll be tough to find any evidence,” and, “without a description of the person in the car with you, we can’t do much to search for suspects,” it was clear they didn’t hold much hope for solving the case.
Thea was near tears again by the time we left the station. Her chin jutting out, her teeth digging into her lower lip, the muscle at her jaw working furiously.
As I tucked her into my side while we walked back to my car, her eyes were downcast, shoulders slumped and defeated. And I hated it.
Rationally, I understand what the police are saying. A crime that happened weeks ago, with most of the evidence gone and no real identifying characteristics of her attacker; there’s not a lot they can do. But the idea of just letting it go, especially not knowing if someone is still after Thea?
The unidentified person knew her name. Was waiting in the car for her. What’s stopping them from coming after her again?
Dammit. She’s been unprotected for weeks. Anything could have happened to her.
Not anymore.
Once we’re both back in my car—obviously, I wasn’t going to let Thea drive after her flashback—she turns to me and says quietly, “You can just drop me off at my car. I know you need to get to Laila.”
“Sweetheart, no.” I cup her cheek, stroking her chilled skin. “Laila is with my mom. I texted her earlier, and they’re having a sleepover tonight. I’m not leaving you.”
Relief wars with regret as she stares at me. “I’m sorry. I messed up dinner, and—”
“Absolutely not.” I firm my tone. “You did nothing wrong. Don’t even think that.” I kiss her lightly before continuing, “We’re going to talk to some of my friends; they’re going to help you. Us. And then we’re going back to your place and I’m going to stay there with you. Okay?”
After a pause, Thea presses her cheek into my hand. “Okay, Ben.”
Once we’re back on the road, she asks, “Where are we going?”
Some of her curls have fallen to hide her face, and I brush them behind her shoulder before answering. “Blade and Arrow Security. You know them, right?”
“Yes. They helped Ari and Cash.”
“Right.” Signaling, I turn right onto a narrow, two-lane street. “So they do private security and investigative work. They can look into what happened, and make sure you’re safe.”
Thea’s brows wing up. “But aren’t they busy? I know they helped Cash, but he’s friends with them. And they cost a lot of money. I do okay, but…”
“Did I tell you why I moved to Sleepy Hollow?”
“To raise Laila in a small town, right?”
“Yes. But I got the idea from Leo, who’s part of the company. I think you met him at Ari and Cash’s wedding party. Really tall, blonde hair, engaged to Georgia…”
“Oh. Yes.” A spark of interest brightens her eyes. “I remember them.”
“Well, I worked with Leo, right when he got out of the Army. I’d been working in Manhattan for a cybersecurity company, and Leo worked with me for about a year, until he quit to join Blade and Arrow. We’ve stayed friends, and he’s the one who suggested Sleepy Hollow as a place to bring Laila.”
The first smile I’ve seen since her flashback appears. “I like Leo, then. If he convinced you to move here.”
Oh. My heart swoops down to my feet and back again, stealing my breath for a second.
