My furious eyes dance between Alex’s for several minutes before I spit out, “I wasted two hours of my precious time this morning with an insurance agent going over the inventory of my apartment to ensure nothing was missing when I knew without a doubt nothing was stolen.”
Although peeved I lost time I’ll never get back, I preferred it over telling Isaac what really caused my door to get out of whack. With my stalker case closed, I didn’t feel the need to burden him with old issues.
“Segments of the tape from that night were accidentally corrupted. . .” My brow quirks from Alex’s desolate tone. “But footage of the suspect was transferred to a secure server before it was wiped.”
I remain quiet for several long minutes. I’m torn. Knowing there is footage of Friday night’s incident fills me with both panic and gratitude. I’m panicked because I’d rather sell a lung than have Isaac discover what truly happened, but grateful because if Alex’s theory is right, and Danielle isn’t to blame for what occurred in my apartment, that footage could be my only means to seek justice. Even if I weren’t a defense attorney, I know video evidence is damning in cases like this.
Over the next ten minutes, Alex updates me on everything he knows. He gives me a play-by-play rundown of what occurred before he was knocked out, before he switches to the data still a little blurry in his head.
By the time he has finished updating me, I’m still only halfway over the fence. I’ve looked at the facts objectively, so I can comprehend his anxiety, but I need a few more t’s crossed and i’s dotted before I can fully regard his idea. It isn’t because I’m stubborn. I’m just. . .
Stubborn.
“So can you understand my request to go home, Rae? If this man is the same man who threatened you, he knows your routine. He recognizes your strengths and weaknesses, but he’d never anticipate this move.”
“No one would anticipate this move—not even my momma.”
Alex grins, hearing my comment as I had intended: playful. I was hoping a bit of wittiness would dispel some of the tension in the air. It seems to have the opposite effect. I’m more panicked now than I’ve ever been, but my worry isn’t caused by the person determined to hurt me. It is the plea in Alex’s eyes.
“I don’t know if I can do this, Alex. I have my job. Friends.”A testing inability to say no to you.“I can’t just pack up and leave town for a few days. People rely on me.”
“And who do you rely on, Rae? Who has your back?”
I nearly say him, until I realize it is an utterly ridiculous thing for me to say. He’s a stranger, a man I’ve fucked more times the past forty-eight hours than I’ve been sexually active the past two years, but that’s not the point. Gaining enough trust to be someone’s crutch takes years. It isn’t something you achieve over a weekend.
I attempt to tell Alex that, but something stops me. I want to say it is the plea in his eyes, but a flash of red unconcealed by bad lighting harnesses my lie. If he is right, and our attackers are one and the same, his assault is my fault. He was injured because of me.
Although his injuries are nothing compared to what Luca suffered, they still have guilt eating me alive. For that reason, and that reason alone, I lock my eyes with Alex and say, “We’re staying at a hotel. If your parents hate me, don’t blame me. If they demand you leave Ravenshoe or burn at the stake, don’t blame me. If your sisters, cousins, or any other female relative says I am to blame for their husband’s wandering eyes, d—”
“Don’t blame you,” Alex fills in. “Got it.”
“I don’t think you do. You haven’t seen this in operation around other people.” It is conceited of me to do, but I swipe my hand down my body. “People get agitated around things they don’t understand. I am often misunderstood.”
Alex tugs my bottom lip out from under my teeth, saving it from being gnawed to death. “Stop it. You’re fucking perfect. My family will love you.”
It seems like he wants to say more, but before he can make a foolish mistake, I save him for the second time this week by sealing my mouth over his.
* * *
My nerves spike when Alex rounds the hood of the taxi before clambering into the seat next to me. His packing expedition took one tenth the time of mine. I barely sucked in three breaths between his departure and return. I know why he is eager. He wants to get me to the airport before I change my mind for the eleventh time this morning.
Isaac was fine with me taking time off. His quick reply was more to do with his inaccurate assumption that my request centered around the anniversary of Luca’s death. But even if it didn’t, he still would have granted my request because he knows I wouldn’t ask unless it was important.
“You ready?” Alex draws my focus to him.
I shake my head. “But that won’t save me, will it?”
“Probably not.”
He does up his seatbelt before leaning across my torso to do the same to mine.
“Do you really think a sliver of material will stop me from escaping if I choose to run?”
Alex’s chuckle makes me hot and needy.
“Probably not,” he repeats, “but I packed my running shoes just in case.”
If I hadn’t seen the honesty in his eyes, I’d assume he was joking.
