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A shudder runs through my body at the thought. No freaking way am I touching that without a six-foot pole and a hazmat suit. I’d rather break a window and risk cutting myself on broken glass.
I chew on my lips as I think about it, and I face-palm myself when the obvious registers. Of course, he would keep the keys with him. Christ, searching the man himself is even less appealing than going through his underwear drawer, but I am running out of time.
I hear a low, pained groan when I walk back to the living room and panic sets in at the thought of him waking up with me still in the house.
With little choice left, I throw caution to the wind and kneel next to him, patting his torso until I hear the low clink of keys in the left pocket of his jacket. My heart hammers in my chest as I take out the keys, excitement rolling in when I realize they’re the housekeys.
I get up to leave but a hand grabs my wrist before I can go. My eyes shoot to my stepfather’s angry, half-hidden ones, and I tug my hand, forcing him to sit up too fast, which must send pain shooting through his head because he lets go of me to grab his forehead.
I don’t sit around to check his condition as I dart for the door, my fingers shaky as I slip a key into the lock, once . . . twice . . . finally, the third one works!
“Don’t you fucking dare!”
I push the door open and run outside, hesitating a little when I notice how dark it has gotten.
“Don’t think you can run away from me, you little slut. I will find you! I swear it!”
His words follow me as I sprint barefoot down the street. I don’t even realize my feet and arms are bare or just how long I have been running until my lungs threaten to give out.
Don’t stop!
The voice at the back of my head urges me to keep moving, but I can’t go another step. The pain in my feet finally registers as my fear gives way to exhaustion.
I am tempted to just drop to the rough ground, but I have no clue where I am. The sign for a gym flashing ahead of me is the only thing I can make out in my state of exhaustion.
Gyms have water and this one looks to be open late.
I just need to rest a bit and think of what the hell I am going to do next. I have no money, no phone, and no car, but I’ll figure it out.
I just need water and a little rest.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I approach the gym, legs shaky as I force myself to get there.
My fingers are trembling as I reach out to push the door, but it opens before I touch it, and I walk smack into someone. Rather, they walk into me, which makes my weak knees give out. I don’t touch the ground though, as the stranger catches me before I collapse.
“T-thank you,” I whisper, but the words come out slurred, like I am about to pass out.
No.
I cannot pass out now. I’m not safe yet. I need to run. I need to escape. I need . . .
My eyes widen in panic as a black fog starts to pull me under, and as my vision goes hazy, I think I see a pair of familiar azure eyes. I have no idea why those eyes feel familiar, and I can’t explain the warmth that spreads through me when the man pulls me tight against him to keep me upright.
“Easy there,” he says roughly, and for the first time in a long time, I feel safe.
I know it’s a dangerous feeling. I will never be safe as long as I am in the same city as my stepfather, but . . . I can’t force myself awake.
This man has a calming effect on me, and I can’t shake a feeling of familiarity, of comfort. But before I can ask who he is, I fall into blackness.
Chapter Two
Gunner
It’s not every day that a woman falls at my feet.
Well . . . I don’t think it’s ever actually happened. I am an ugly motherfucker, and women take one look at me and the scars on my face and body, and they walk the other way. Not that I have ever missed the attention, but having someone swoon at the sight of me is definitely one for the books.
I’m not so sure I’m what’s affecting this girl, though. More likely, she is sick or injured, judging by her ghostly white skin and trembling limbs. Even passed out, she is tense, like she’s bracing herself to run.
