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I knew it was her immediately, not only because there was no one else it could have been, but because every muscle of my body told me so. Spinning, I saw her a few feet from the house, crumpled to her knees. Normally, there was nowhere better for my little girl to have been, but everything about this scene was wrong, from the robe she was wearing to the anguished expression she wore on her reddened face.
“Tiffany!”
My long strides closed the distance between us in a heartbeat, but she didn’t open her eyes at my approach.
“Tiffany, what’s wrong?”
Stopping short of her vomit, I concluded the answer for myself. She was ill, probably a result of the fumes. That was why I hadn’t involved her in the process. She needed to rest while I took care of this. Walking to where she knelt, I thrust out my palm.
“Come on.”
“I can’t, Master.” Still, she wouldn’t look at me, but the tears that fell and her puffy eyelids conveyed how she’d spent the last couple of hours.
“I’m not asking.” My tone hardened. “Take my hand now, or I’ll make you move.”
One trembling hand rose, feeling for mine, and cutting her a little slack, I grasped it and yanked her to her feet.
“This way.”
Steering her back to the kitchen, I shook my head at the state of her. The new robe I’d bought for her was covered in dirt and she needed a shower after her recent bout of sickness. But that was okay. I needed to clean up, too—we would wash the sorry incident away together.
“Inside,” I instructed when we reached the glass doors. “Take those boots off. I just cleaned up the place.”
Hobbling inside, she drew in what seemed like a painful breath as she complied. Barefoot in only her robe, she looked more forlorn than I’d ever seen her.
“Was that her b-body?” Her voice trembled as she stared through the glass at the fire.
“Yes,” I confirmed, closing the door and blocking out the noxious smell. “Take the robe off. We’re going to shower.”
“Master.” Bloodshot eyes met mine, but it was the pain flickering in them that disconcerted the most. “I can’t do this… can’t live with what I’ve become.”
“One step at a time, beautiful,” I replied, frantic not to let her unsettling stare throw me. “You don’t need to worry about that now. Let’s just get cleaned up.”
Easing the robe from her shoulders, I ignored the swell of arousal that stirred at her nakedness and scooped her into my arms. She gazed blankly into space as I carried her to the nearest bathroom and placed her gently on her feet. Closing the door, I turned up the heat and moved two towels to the heated rail before turning on the shower. Steam rose quickly into the air as I guided her into the cubicle.
“Get under the water, little girl.” I motioned for her to move, encouraging her under the current when she failed to do so. “You’ll feel better once you’ve showered.”
“How has this happened, Master?” Her haunted expression stared straight ahead, but I ignored it, moving behind her and easing shampoo into her tresses.
“We don’t need to talk about this now.”
“When then?” She turned, exhausted eyes meeting mine.
“Whenever you’re ready,” I answered, dismissing the fact that she hadn’t referred to me correctly. Tiffany was evidently still in shock. I needed to give her the time and space she needed.
“I’m ready now.” Swallowing, she turned to face me as I washed away the labor of the morning. “I’ve thought of nothing else, Master. I can’t live with myself.”
“Did you sleep?” I asked, beckoning her back under the torrent. “When I left you, I thought you were sleeping.”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Not much. How can I?”
“Tiffany.” Her name was a sigh on my lips. I loathed to see her this way, so brow beaten by something completely out of her control. She wasn’t to know the madcap detective would break into my house, just like she could never have anticipated the events that had followed. Hell, Tiffany hadn’t even known I owned a gun until tonight. “None of this is your fault.”
“I pulled the trigger.” Her voice was monotone as I pulled her in for a hug. “I killed her.”
“You protected me,” I reminded her. “Otherwise, I’d be the dead body out there.” I hadn’t intended for the answer to sound quite so harsh, but the point was still valid.
“She didn’t have to die.” Relaxing against me, her face rested on my shoulder. “She shouldn’t have died.”
