Page 57 of Sight of Fate

She chuckles. “Supes aren’t really formal. Threats are eliminated. Permanently. Teague will take care of him when he returns. Do you want me to come stay with you until then?”

Shocked at what she’s saying, I stare at her, then shake my head. “Macklin put in a pretty sophisticated security system. I’ll be fine.” Standing up, I gather my stuff. “You don’t happen to be related to Amara, do you?”

It’s her turn to look surprised. “She’s my granddaughter. Why?”

“She helped me find an outfit on Saturday. You have the same eyes, but I didn’t realize it until this morning,” I tell her. “She’s also pretty astute, like you.”

Rushing out, I open the door to the stairwell and stop. Echoes of Friday linger in the air. Images of the stairs rushing by. Pain when I hit the wall. I bend over, trying to catch my breath. Strong hands grip my arms. Teague, shirtless, his eyes full of worry. I lean against the concrete wall and breathe in and out.

Why wasn’t he wearing a shirt?

Shoving the thought aside, I stare at the five steps in front of me. Avoiding the stairs isn’t an option. I need more than one escape route. Might as well tackle this now. I grit my teeth and wrap my hand tightly around the railing, then I slowly step down one by one until I reach the second floor. When I get there, I sigh with relief and hurry to Sam’s office.

“Sorry I’m late,” I tell her. My excuse dies on my lips when I see the troubled expression on her face. “Everything okay? We can meet later, if you want.”

“It’s nothing. I’m worrying over nothing,” she says, shaking her head. Pasting a smile on her face, she rolls out the newly revised schematics. “Teague always forgets to print them out. Seeing things on a screen and looking at them at their actual size makes a huge difference.” She points to the notes she’s made. “I think most of what he wants will make it to production, but this is the biggest roadblock.”

She walks through what she needs him to resolve, then rolls them up and hands them to me. “I need him to make a decision by Friday, or there will be a delay in the launch.”

I smile and make a note. “He’ll be back by then.” I hope. “I’ll make sure he reviews them first thing.” Standing, I pause and look at her a second time. Her expression reminds me of the first time we met. “Is this about your niece? Can I do anything to help?”

She opens her mouth, then flashes a rueful smile. “I’m being silly. But thank you.” Before I can move, she reaches out and pats my arm.

The vision slams into me, and I drop everything to grip my chair.

Long, black hair wrapped around his hand, he marches her into the kitchen and slams her up against the kitchen sink. “I work hard to provide us with nice things. Do I not?”

She whimpers and tries to nod, but his grip on her hair is too tight. “Yes, you do.” Her voice is soft and full of fear.

“All I ask is for you to take care of me and take care of our home. Isn’t that right?!” he asks softly, and she nods. He grips her chin and asks again, “Right?”

She looks at the single glass in the sink. “Yes. I’m sorry. I set it there when I went to the restroom, but I should have cleaned it first. I didn’t think.”

He releases her and sighs. “It’s my fault. I ask too much of you.”

She instantly shakes her head. “No, you don’t. Really. Keeping the house clean is the least I can do. I’ll do better.”

He pulls her into his arms. “Thank you. I know I can be a bit of a perfectionist.” He rubs a hand down her back, and she flinches.

Exhaling, he steps away to grab a beer out of the fridge, then frowns. “Dinner’s not ready?”

“You’re early.” Her head whips up, bright blue eyes full of panic. “I’m happy you’re home. It’s just I know you like dinner at 5:30 sharp. But it’s done, if you want to eat early tonight. All I have to do is heat it up. Do you want me to serve it now?”

“That’s right. I did come home early.” He smiles and slides a hand down her body. “Clean up this mess, then meet me in our room.”

The scene changes.

She looks around frantically, then picks up the desk phone and punches in a number. “Please be there.” Her voice is barely a whisper as she peers up at the old-fashioned white clock on the wall. The phone rings and rings. A man answers. “Is Sam there?”

“Sam moved. Call her house,” he says gruffly, hanging up.

In despair, she sinks into the green chair as a voice over the intercom calls for the deli manager.

I open my eyes and stare at Sam, horrified by what I saw. “Your niece. You have to get her away from him.” My head reels as I sort through everything in my vision. There’s a sense of urgency with this one. “What’s the time?”

She scrambles up and looks at her phone. “Nine.”

Relieved, I pluck a pencil off her desk and pick up my notebook. “The number you gave your niece. Your old number. She’s going to call. At ten. We have to get there and answer the phone.”