Keep Me Safe(29)

Heart and mind were not in accord, which only added to the sensation of her sanity slipping further and further from her reach.

Worse, on the way to the room Caleb had installed her in, they’d passed Tori’s room and the sound of her weeping filled Ramie with sorrow and her chest ached for the emotional upheaval she was causing with her presence. She couldn’t fault Tori’s reaction to coming face-to-face with the unerring truth of what had happened to her. There was nothing wrong with denial. Everyone had their own way of coping. God only knew how Ramie had learned to cope over the years. It may not be the healthiest way to absorb tragedy after tragedy, but being able to compartmentalize each nightmare had been the only way she survived.

At some point the walls would likely crumble and everything she’d been stuffing down would come spewing out like a geyser erupting, but until that day she just . . . ​coped. Just like Tori was coping—or not coping. It wasn’t her job—her responsibility—to heal Caleb’s sister. She wouldn’t even know how to begin even if she wanted such a task.

She cupped her hand over her forehead, eyes still closed, and she rubbed tiredly in an attempt to ease the awful tension and the painful ache in her temples. When would she stop running? Would she ever stop fleeing, and would she ever be able to lead a normal, boring life, something she craved with desperation?

If you think you’re safe—that you’ll ever be safe—from me, you’re a very stupid woman. There is nowhere, no place you can hide that I won’t find you. And when I do, you will suffer. You will beg me for death, and maybe, if you’re a good girl, I’ll be merciful and kill you quickly.

Ramie bolted upright in bed, her scream shattering the silence that had blanketed the room. Her gaze bounced wildly around the darkened room, pupils quickly adapting as she blinked, expecting to see him standing by her bed. Within touching distance.

She should run, but she was paralyzed, unable to move—to breathe. Terror gripped her until she felt bruised, as if an actual hand had wrapped itself around her throat.

When the door burst in, she screamed again and scrambled wildly for the other side of the bed. She landed with a harsh thump, pain lancing through her head. She planted both palms on the floor, pushing herself upward, prepared to fight for her life.

She’d known she wasn’t safe here. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Like a wild animal she reared her head, nostrils flaring as she evaluated her escape options. He filled the doorway and then suddenly light flooded the room, momentarily blinding her.

From a distance she heard her name and she jerked her gaze around the vividly lit room, desperately seeking the source. Strong hands wrapped around her upper arms, and she lashed out, self-preservation kicking in. She wasn’t ready to die.

“Caleb, what the hell is going on?”

Ramie stared at the open doorway to see Beau Devereaux standing there in a pair of boxer shorts and nothing else. He was quickly shoved aside when Quinn appeared looking worried and frazzled.

“Jesus, this is not going to help Tori,” Quinn bit out.

Ramie glanced upward, the haze of terror slowly releasing its grip on her. Caleb was on his knees just a foot from her, his hair mussed, his eyes bloodshot. Like Beau, he was wearing only boxers and it was equally evident that he’d been roused from sleep by her scream.

She closed her eyes, mortification taking over the fear.

“Go back to bed,” Caleb ordered his brothers. “I’ll handle this. Make sure Tori’s okay.”

Ramie held her breath as Caleb’s brothers slowly withdrew, identical frowns on their faces. There was no hiding the looks of annoyance and welcome was the furthest thing from their expressions. No matter what Beau had said earlier, he was obviously regretting his words now.

The door closed gently, Caleb’s brothers disappearing from sight. She became aware of her fingernails digging into her palms, marking her skin. She forced her hands to relax and closed her eyes, not wanting to look at Caleb and see the same thing she’d seen in Beau’s and Quinn’s faces.

“I’m not crazy,” she whispered. “I’m not.”

She wasn’t even cognizant of her fist pounding on the top of her thigh. Nor of the tears that streaked down her face in silence. A low sob finally welled out and it was a horrible sound, one she never wanted to repeat. Because it sounded too much like defeat. As though the asshole had already won.

“I’m not crazy,” she said again, fiercely, daring Caleb to argue with her, to judge her.

Caleb rose quietly from his position on the floor. He reached down and simply plucked her up and carefully placed her back on the bed. Then he simply climbed in next to her and enfolded her in his arms.