Page 37 of The Fixer

“She’s staying with me,” I choked out.

Rinaldi’s brow rose as his dark eyes slid from Santini to me. He scratched at his chin, casting a quick glance at the girl huddled on the couch closest to the empty fireplace. “You let me know if she thinks of anything else,” he said, rather than addressing the elephant squeezing the air out of the room.

Nodding, I cleared my throat. “Let me know if you find anything.”

With Santini securing Charlie’s condo, I drove Eliza back home. She kept her hands curled in her lap, fingers clutched together, working through some problem as they clenched and relaxed. I hated seeing the agony that so clearly racked her. Hated that I didn’t have Kosta there to tell me what to do.

Or have him there to take care of her himself.

At a stoplight, I lifted my hand from the steering wheel and fingered the gentle curve, the laces stitching the leather into place. Eliza’s tormented thoughts screamed in the silence between us, and I covered her hands with mine if only to quiet her thoughts. The pulsing ceased, but the girl didn’t turn my way. And in that moment, I was okay with that. With giving her an ounce of comfort, with taking away a drop of pain.

In the parking garage, I rushed to her side after switching off the car. We walked, hand-in-hand, into the building and up to my floor. There was a tense set to her shoulders as my door came into view, and it wasn’t until I unlocked it and pulled her in behind me that any of that tension went away.

“Do you want anything to eat?” I asked her as we passed the couches in the living room.

A quiet “No” was her response. I turned toward her, letting the light shining down from overhead illuminate her too-pale face and her blood-shot eyes. “I just want to sleep.”

“Come, let’s get you into bed.”

My heart thudded in my chest as I stopped outside her door. I wrapped her in my arms, pulling her into my chest. And the girl, she raised her hands, pressing into me, her palms sliding upward until her fingers reached my collarbone. Dark chocolate swirled in front of me, and my head spun.

Her body stiffened.

Those dark eyes dropped closed.

And my heart stuttered to a stop.

“People react to triggers and stressors differently,” Kosta’s voice whispered in my head. “Some lash out, some flee. Others may freeze. There are subtle cues, some you can only find through a thorough search and hours of study. But you must heed their warnings. Not doing so may push them over the edge.”

Eliza’s hands lowered, the press of her hands becoming a push. Her chin rose as she opened her eyes and the chains encasing my heart chinked as it tried to restart.

“Good night, Jet.”

She left me there outside her door. The click of the latch, the quiet twang of the lock sliding into place, they were a jolt of electricity against the stuttering organ in my chest. I breathed in a deep breath, let it out until there was nothing left.

“Good night.”

* * *

My spine ached as it rolled over the living room rug for the forty-eighth time. I sat up, then lowered halfway to the floor, pulling back up to touch my right elbow to my left knee. I completed the sit-up with my left elbow to the right, then rolled back down and did it again.

Everything in me hurt. My muscles screamed at me to use them, to work off the stress and emotions that were plaguing me. But my workout room had been taken over by a red-haired beauty. I hadn’t been able to use the space since Eliza got here.

Hadn’t stepped foot in it since I’d delivered her new clothes.

Once I finished the fiftieth set, I rolled my back out slowly on the floor. Though the exercise was good, it wasn’t enough. I wanted the dull ache in my hands from hitting my punching bag, the sharp sting of my shins from my kick bag. I wanted the exhaustion that came with a good spar with my friends, when my stress would drip out of me in the form of sweat and any blood that marred my skin was as likely theirs as it was mine.

But with her asleep in the other room, I wouldn’t even risk a jumping jack.

A heavy sigh left my chest, pushing every last bit of air from my lungs. I held it when it was gone, until the burn in my chest started messing with my head. A noise—a sniff? A shuffle? —sounded from over my head, and in a split second, I’d grabbed the handgun I had hidden under the couch.

I spun. Was on my knees in an instant, my gun drawn and pointed down the hallway leading to the bedrooms. But my finger left the trigger and I dropped the muzzle to the floor when I saw what was there.

Eliza let out a surprised gasp and stumbled backward into the hall. She fell, and this time, there was no stopping her from hitting the floor.

The sound of her skin smacking the hardwood had my trigger finger itching, the sound of her head thumping against the floor had me leaping to my feet.

By the time I got to her, she was curled into a ball, her arms cradling her head.