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Where are his clothes?
I ran a quick gaze around my bedroom but couldn’t find sight of them. Maybe the living room?
A heavy pressure clamped my own chest at the thought of leaving Lucas alone. Where he was going to go when out of my sight, I didn’t know.
“Don’t move,” I ordered, pointing my finger at his inert form before stepping over him and almost running from my room.
Every second I spent searching for his clothes in the rest of the house felt like a bomb was ticking in my gut. My parents were off on a cruise, so I had the house to myself for the next two months. Interestingly enough, Lucas’s mom and stepdad were on that same cruise.
There was no sign of Lucas’s clothes anywhere. Not in the living room, the kitchen or the spare bedroom I used as an office-slash-dumping ground for stuff I didn’t know what to do with. Like I needed an office. Yeah, right.
What I did find was the window above the kitchen sink open, pushed up high enough to allow a man—a big, muscular man—to climb through.
I stared at the window, my pulse pounding in my ears. Lucas knew the spare key to our house was kept in the potted azalea. Just like I knew where his family’s spare set was hidden. If he knew where the key was, why hadn’t he used it?
Don’t trust…
I hurried over to the window and slammed it shut. For some reason, it being open made me nervous.
Turning back toward the direction of my bedroom, I screamed.
And then I pressed my hand to my mouth and almost buckled over with relief.
Lucas stood before me.
He’d wrapped himself in the blanket from my bed. His eyes were still clouded with pain. I could tell he wasn’t truly functioning properly. But at least he was conscious.
“Lucas.” I frowned, closing the distance between us until I was but a foot from him. “Can you tell me what is going on?”
“Did you call 911?”
I nodded, his question and the hoarse rasp on which it was asked tightening the knot in my belly.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Did you give them my name?”
I shook my head.
“Did you give them yours?”
“Not my full name. Not even Veronica. I just gave them Ronnie.”
That muscle ticked again. Pain etched his face for a second and he scrunched his eyes shut, hissing as he turned his head to the side.
I stepped closer to him, resting my palms on his chest with gentle pressure. “Lucas, please tell me what’s going on? What happened to you? Who did this? Why do you think I’m in danger? Who am I not meant to trust?”
He swung his head back to face me.
I gasped.
His eyes locked on mine, clear and intense and completely focused. “We have to go. Now.”
I blinked. “Go? Go where? A second ago, you were unconscious. An ambulance is on its way. You’re injured. Like blood-spurting-from-your-nose injured. We can’t go anywhere.”
A dark tension filled his eyes and he grabbed my upper arms. The blanket fell from his shoulders, revealing his body and all its bruises and cuts. I wanted to wave my hand at them and say see? But I was too stunned to do anything but stare into his eyes.
“Ronnie, you’ve got three minutes to throw some clothes into an overnight bag and put some shoes on. If you’re not ready, I’m throwing you into your car and we are out of here. Comprende?”
I didn’t argue. I had no idea what was going on, but I didn’t argue. It was pointless. He’d already proved he could overpower me when he was semi-conscious. He looked far from that state now.
