Keep Me Safe(48)

She let her head fall to his chest, pressing her forehead against his skin. He sighed and slid his hand into her hair, absently massaging her nape.

“I have feelings for you that I’ve never had for another woman. And I want to explore those feelings. See where it takes us. All I know is that I can’t—won’t—give you up. Not for Tori or my brothers and definitely not for a homicidal maniac. As I said, I don’t have all the answers—yet. But that doesn’t mean I’m just giving up and handing you over like some virgin sacrifice.”

She stared at him in silence. He could see her processing his statement, obvious befuddlement in her features.

“Just accept it,” Caleb said. “You aren’t going to talk me out of it. You aren’t going to tell me what I do or don’t feel for you. And you may as well resign yourself to the fact that I’m digging my heels in whether you like it or not. Now, I’m going to go down and fix us something to eat and then we’re going to go back to bed and in the morning we’ll sit down with Dane and Eliza and brainstorm some more. And one more thing, Ramie,” he said, tugging her hair so she was forced to look at him. “Get used to being in my bed because that’s where you’re going to sleep from now on.”





TWENTY




TORI sat up in bed, coming awake with a gasp. Her heart pounded violently in her chest, her pulse so rapid she was weak. She scrambled out of bed, the images still vibrant and alive in her mind. She could still hear the gunshot, smell the blood and could see the face of her tormentor as he pointed a gun straight at her.

She went into her bathroom and splashed cool water on her flushed face. Then she lifted haunted eyes to her reflection in the mirror and winced at how pale and gaunt she looked.

It had been a year. It was time to move on. Time to stop being afraid of her shadow. Live.

Was the dream a vision or was it simply a nightmare? It was too real, too crisp and vivid to be a dream. Dreams didn’t usually make sense and were jumbled images randomly thrown together.

She went still for a moment, her brow furrowing in concentration. She didn’t recognize where the shooting took place. It definitely wasn’t here or anywhere she was familiar with.

It should be easy enough to avoid, if indeed it was a prophetic vision. She never left the house. She was too afraid to go out, either with someone or alone. Especially alone.

What had her life become? Who had she become? She no longer recognized the girl in the mirror. She was dull and lifeless. Scared and timid. A far cry from the woman she’d been a year ago before she’d gone to hell.

How did Ramie do it? How could she bear to endure that over and over? Tori flinched at how angry and rude she’d been with Ramie. The idea that someone had seen her shame was more than she could bear, though. Great injustice had been wrought against Ramie St. Claire, but Tori couldn’t find the empathy to soften against this fragile woman.

She stood in the bathroom a long moment before finally going back into her bedroom. She crawled under the covers, pulling them to her chin. She lay there shaking, her stomach churning endlessly.

An hour later, she gave up. A trip to the kitchen would be a welcome—and necessary—nightly patrol. One she didn’t confide in her brothers. But between the times they or their men scouted the house, inside and out, Tori had her own route she followed, moving her markers so that she would notice a difference if someone touched them. Her brothers would think she was crazy, clinically insane if they knew how obsessed she was with the fear of someone coming into her home and taking her again. She hid a lot from her brothers. This was just another thing in a long list they didn’t need to know about because they’d only worry more than they already did.

Sleep wouldn’t happen tonight. Just like so many other nights in the past year, she’d be awake, staring up at the ceiling and trying to shut the door on things she’d rather forget.

At least if she had food and coffee, then the middle-of-the-night munchy run wasn’t all that strange.

As much as she wanted to put her past behind her and cower in the corner of her choosing, she hated being alone. She just didn’t want people always psychoanalyzing her. Always knowing what she needed or wanted. They had no idea.

She just wanted to be normal and focus on what all young women focused on. Their first job out of college. The knowledge that they’re ready to take on the world, live in their own apartments, make their own choices.

Except Tori, who, at twenty-three, was focused on none of those things. Not that she didn’t give them a passing thought every once in a while.





TWENTY-ONE