Page 18 of You Can Run

“Yes,” he replied.

The man stirred weakly.

Dante crouched and pushed him back with one hand, controlled and absolute. “Stay down,” he said, his voice low, the threat in it unmistakable.

The man obeyed.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, faintly.

“Jessica.”

Ryan's voice. It came through the phone still in her hand, distant now, as though thinned by everything else in the room.

She blinked, the sound pulling her back.

“I'm here,” she said quickly. “I'm okay.”

“You need to get out of there.”

It was Dante who answered, in a clipped tone. “No shit.”

Jessica's pulse still hammered as she took in more of the intruder. The cheap boots, the cracked phone on the floor, the lack of a mask, the careless way he had moved through her home as if it already belonged to him.

“He isn't the one in charge,” she said slowly. “He's just muscle.”

Dante nodded. “Yeah.”

“Hired by who?”

He straightened but didn't answer.

Jessica folded her arms around herself without meaning to, suddenly aware of how thin the walls felt, how close everything still was.

“So whoever sent them…” she said.

“…is still out there,” Dante finished, his gaze flicking toward the doorway. “And they're not done.”

NINE

Dante didn't giveher time to think; his hand closed around her elbow, not rough but unyielding. He guided her out the front door, down the steps, and into the open air where the pale wash of morning made everything look exposed.

Jessica moved with him, her body keeping pace even as it seemed her mind lagged somewhere behind, caught in the echo of the gunshot she'd fired.

“Dante—” she started, her voice thin.

“We gotta get the fuck out of here,” he said, not raising his voice. “Now.”

She hesitated at the curb, glancing back despite everything, and he followed her line of sight for half a second. Then he opened the passenger door and guided her in, his hand steady at her shoulder until she sat. Her movements were automatic, like she was following instructions she hadn't consciously heard. She stared straight ahead, breathing shallowly, her fingers curling into the hem of her dress.

He leaned in to fasten the seatbelt, and she flinched, just slightly, but enough that he felt it.

He pulled away from her immediately, shutting the door with more care than necessary, then circled the car and slid into the driver's seat, the familiar feel of it grounding him in a way nothing else had since he'd heard her voice again.

Only once the engine turned over and they were moving did he let himself breathe.

Jessica sat rigid beside him, her hands clenched together, her gaze fixed on the windshield as if looking anywhere else might fracture whatever control she still had.

“I have to call Trent. He'll think I've been kidnapped.”