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I really do need time. Time to fortify myself. Time to heal.

I played another what if game.

What if Ray had gotten me aside while he had a gun? What if Ray had gotten to Killian with that gun? Why the heck did Ray have a gun?

And what now? The clock is ticking. He doesn’t have all the time in the world to come up with Killian’s money. I can’t even let myself dwell on the what if question about what would happen if Ray couldn’t pay Killian back on time. Because if the answer is bad, then my heart might break. Because how can I be falling for a guy who would murder somebody?

I don’t wanna be falling for a bad guy.

But I might be.

Is he a bad guy?

***

I pull up to Killian’s building at ten thirty at night after a long, lovely evening with Susanna and her mom. I park in visitors’ parking and a security guy eyes me as I approach the front desk.

“Hi. I’m staying with Killian Coulter in Penthouse two and I forgot to get a key for the garage, so is it okay if I just go up, see if he’s home, get it and then move my car?”

“I’ll have to announce you,” he says, scanning a clipboard on his desk. “There’s no note here.”

“No problem,” I tell him, and he directs me to wait in a sitting area near the elevators.

I sit down. And I wait.

And wait.

And wait some more. And I’m starting to wonder if I should go to Susanna’s for the night. Maybe he’s not home.

It’s been at least fifteen or twenty minutes and finally, the guard comes over and tells me he’ll escort me upstairs.

We get into the elevator and he puts a key in for an express ride up.

After I thank him and get off the elevator, I try the door. It’s locked, so I knock.

The door swings open and Killian’s got a face like thunder.

It makes me rear back.

He gestures for me to step in and slams the door.

My back goes arrow straight with the shock of the noise and the look on his face.

“You’re fine,” he observes, folding his arms across his chest.

“Yeah,” I squeak, feeling myself shrink.

“So, where have you been?” he demands.

“Sitting in the lobby for almost half an hour.”

“You know I don’t mean that.”

“And before that, um…” I take in his appearance as I stammer. He’s dressed in sweats, looks like he’s been interrupted during a workout. And he looks furious. “I spent the day with Susanna.”

“You think about saying something?”

I blink.

“I didn’t…” I blink twice, “didn’t think I was actually a prisoner here.”

What I’ve said could come across as snarky if it had a snarky tone. It doesn’t, though. My voice sounds meek. And I feel a pang of shame for it.

“You don’t think it might’ve been, I dunno, courteous to say something to me?” He glares daggers at me. “Also obviously didn’t think I’d worry that maybe Raymond grabbed you after not hearing from you all fucking day.”

My face falls.

“Didn’t think to send a text, leave a note?” he adds.

I swallow, but not without difficulty.

He twists the lock, jabs at a few buttons on the alarm panel and storms to the kitchen where he takes a bottle of water from the fridge and downs half of it.

I take a deep breath before speaking. “I apologize. Though if you were worried, maybe you could’ve texted or called to ask me.”

He waves his hand as if to say whatever and stalks off.

And I’m left standing there, trembling.

He only walks maybe four or five paces before he turns back around and glares at me. “Maybe I would’ve but thought maybe you were dodgin’ me because of last night.”

“I had those plans with her already,” I defend.

“And you didn’t think to say?” He cocks an eyebrow.

I shrug. “I guess I didn’t.”

He frowns and then strides toward me, voice thundering, “That guy had a loaded fucking gun last night!”

I instinctively back up until my back is against the door.

He stops, six feet away, anger morphing to concern.

“Violet?”

I’m shivering hard. I’m shaking my head. “I’m sorry. I’m-”

“Hey.” He finishes his approach and reaches out toward my face and I find myself on the floor, hugging my knees, hiding my face.

“Fuck.” He grunts and then squats. “Violet… I wasn’t gonna hurt you.”

I nod but my face is buried in my knees.

“Baby.” He touches my shoulder.

I squeeze my eyes tight and recoil even more.

I feel him move away but keep my face hidden.

“Here,” he says.

I look up.

He’s gotten me a bottle of water.

I shakily take it.

I look at him and his eyes are filled with concern, remorse too, I think. I open my water bottle.

“I’m sorry I overreacted,” I say. “You’re upset and I just… it’s The Ray effect.”

His eyes narrow. “Explain that.”

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