Subject AWOL. Sorry, boss, he must’ve left in the night. Can’t find him.
I’m on my feet before I’ve even finished reading, swiping Patrick’s keys off the table.
“Derek?” Somewhere behind me, I feel Patrick struggling to get Toni out of the booth so he can follow, but I’m in a tunnel. My brain is miles away, focused on one objective—getting back to Wilmington. Fast.
I’m out the door with my heart thundering painfully. Jamming the key into the ignition, Patrick’s Charger roars to life. Satisfaction surges through my legs. It’s going to be a tough drive, but for once I’m thankful for Patrick’s bravado. American muscle is exactly what I need to cover the miles at top speed.
Shoving the stick into reverse to back out, I slam on the breaks and put it in gear before punching it. Rocks fly as I spin out of the lot, and I only vaguely hear Patrick yelling for me to wait. He’ll figure out a ride back. I’ve got to get to Melissa.
I try calling her, but it goes to voicemail. I send her a quick text.
Call me please
.
While I wait, I hit Elaine’s number, voicemail. She’s in class. I try Mel’s mother, voicemail again.
Dammit!
She’s probably with a patient. Why don’t I have her office number programmed in my phone?
I throw my cell on the passenger seat and grip the wheel again. Both hands hold it so hard, I’m surprised it doesn’t bend in half. It’s like my body is trying to push the car faster by brute force.
How could I be so careless? Bennett’s been watching Sloan for weeks, and nothing’s happened. He’s been quiet, going about his routine, obeying the law. I should’ve known he’d make a move now.
Melissa said his behavior was cyclical, and she could tell when it was time for him to either leave town for a hook-up or for her to start sleeping with her door locked and the can of pepper spray under her pillow. The very thought of her living like that grinds my jaw.
After all my work closing the office, driving all night, I left her alone, out there in that little cottage unguarded.
Fuck!
My fists tighten harder on the thin, metal ring guiding Patrick’s sports car. I’m pushing ninety, and car after car flashes past.
Traffic is light this early-afternoon Thursday. It’s the one small advantage I have. I’m making the most of it and wishing I had a portable siren. Once more the smallest prayer sneaks from my brain.
Not again. Please don’t let it happen again.
I’m too far from her. If she needs me, if she’s afraid or in danger, I’m not there. If the unthinkable happens… Memories of the pain of that loss scorch through my chest. The mind-numbing helplessness is back. I can’t bear it a second time. I can’t lose Melissa.
Glancing down, I’m at a hundred now. I’ll be there soon, but it still feels too long. My breath is fast, and my brain is repeating the word
No
. It’s all I’ve got, the force of my will, demanding that she be okay.
Chapter 6: First Priority
Melissa
Working from home at the beach is possibly the absolute best outcome I could’ve ever imagined. Waking up to find Derek in my bed only makes it a million times better.
Leaning back on my sun porch as the waves crash a short distance away, I smile warmly remembering our incredible morning. Now he needs to stop being so stubborn and relocate.
It’s chilly, and I’m wearing fleece pants, a long-sleeved red tee with a fuzzy blanket wrapped around my shoulders. In my thick socks, I’m cozy enough to nap, but I’m working on a marketing plan for Aunt Bea to take her cupcake bakery online. She’s completely baffled by how it all works, of course, but with her skills and built-in clientele, she’ll take off in no time.
I’ve just hit
send
on the email explaining it to her in as simple terms as possible, then I wrap the cozy blanket a bit tighter around my shoulders and drift into a pleasant slumber, hoping that when I wake, my sweet love will be by my side again.
My sleep is troubled, and even with the blanket, I shiver. A sound like scissors flicks near my ear, and I flinch.
Cutting… Something’s cutting… My hair?
No, that’s wrong.
The expression “someone walked over my grave” drifts through my hazy brain, and I feel so afraid, I might cry.
Derek… where is Derek? I need him here. I need him to protect me.
It doesn’t matter if I tell him I’m strong, and I can take care of myself. I’m afraid. The terror holding me won’t let go, and all I want is my big man.
It’s dark. My heart is thundering in my chest, and with a cold certainty, I recognize the sound of his footsteps, the spicy smell of his cologne. It stings my nose and makes my throat close up.
Sloan.
He’s here.
I can’t catch my breath.
The baby. I have to protect the baby…
Footsteps pound louder, closer, and with a loud gasp, I bolt upright on the couch.
But I’m alone.
It was just a dream.
“Oh, my god!” My trembling hand goes over my face, and I can’t stop the tears streaming down my cheeks.
“Melissa?” Apparently the footsteps weren’t a dream. Derek bursts through the side door, and without hesitation, I fly off the couch into his arms. Instantly they surround me as he kisses my head, speaking against my hair. “You’re okay. I’m here now. You’re safe.”
His voice is tense as he holds me tightly, and gradually, my shaking calms. He eases me back and bends down to look in my eyes. “What happened? Why are you crying?”
Even though his voice is soothing, his entire body is on edge. His muscles seem larger, like he’s ready to fight. That’s when I find my strength. Shaking myself, I place my palms flat against my cheeks.
“I’m sorry.”
Breathe, Melissa, breathe.
“I… I had the most vivid dream. I thought someone was here… I-It scared me.”
My fingers curl, and he holds me close again. I bury my face in his chest, and the last of my terror slowly recedes.
Derek isn’t satisfied. He covers me with the blanket. “I’m going to look around, make sure you weren’t picking up on something in your sleep.”
He steps to the screen door and turns the little latch, locking it. My brow lines. “What do you mean? Did you see something?”
His face is stoic, but it softens with a smile when he glances down at me. “No, but I want to check the place out just in case,” touching my cheek lightly, “you’re very attuned to your surroundings.”
“For a while I had to be.”
He continues into the house, his mouth in a firm line. I stay on the couch, pulling the soft blanket tightly as I wait.
It’s later in the afternoon than I normally nap, but having Derek here causes my sleep patterns to shift. More specifically, I don’t sleep as much at night—even though he tries to let me. It’s hard to care about rest with him in my bed.
The sounds of him moving around inside drift to me on the sea breeze. He’s opening closet doors and looking for any signs of disturbance. It’s very comforting, even though I feel silly worrying him so much over a bad dream, which was probably induced by all the preoccupation with my ex.
Further down below us the waves crash against the shoreline. One of the things I love about my new home is how secluded it is from the rest of civilization, but I confess, Derek’s current obsession with Sloan’s whereabouts has me spooked.
I can’t tell him what my nightmare was really about.
Joining me on the side porch, he pulls me close against his chest again. “Nothing seems out of place, but I don’t know what all you did while I was gone.”
“Just worked, came out here. Then I was tired and took a nap.”
I can see him thinking, and I almost jump out of my skin at the very loud and completely unexpected roar of a motorcycle engine. We’re both up, but I beat him to the door.
“Why is Patrick on a Harley?”
Derek’s lips tighten, and he catches me by the waist, pulling me back and flipping the lock on the door. “Stay here.”
Frowning, I watch as he stalks out to meet his partner.
Patrick’s royal blue Charger is in my driveway next to Derek’s black Audi, and I can only assume they got separated somehow.
But how?
I can’t hear what they’re saying. Patrick’s expression wavers back and forth between irritation and relief, and they talk for a few minutes longer. Then Patrick walks over and straddles the bike once more. He pulls the black helmet over his head and kicks the engine to life. Derek gives him a nod, and with a roar, his partner heads toward town.
Derek turns and heads back to the house. His brow is furrowed, and he studies the ground as he walks. One arm is crossed, and he’s holding his bicep, the other hand is a clenched fist.
Stepping back, I let him in the door, but he pauses to flip the metal lock again before taking my hand and leading me into the house.
“I feel like I’m the one out of the loop.” The blanket is still clutched over my shoulders as I follow him.
He doesn’t answer.
“How did you and Patrick get separated?”
We’re in the kitchen now, and I watch as he pulls down an unopened bottle of Scotch. “Patrick invited us over for dinner tonight.”
He cracks the seal and pours a small amount into a glass and shoots it back. A little wince creases his eyes, and he puts the glass in the sink.
“I’ve never seen you drink in the afternoon.”
I’m back in his arms, and his face is buried in my hair as he inhales deeply. A warm shiver travels up my arms despite my concern.
“I’ve never been so worried about you.” His voice is low against my neck. “But you’re okay now. And I’m here.”
I’m unsure how to pursue this. My dream-inspired panic is fresh in my memory, and now he’s behaving so strangely. I want to argue. I want to fight this type of existence, to insist this
isn’t
how I’m going to live, dammit. I won’t be afraid in my own home.
But anxiety is still holding my shoulders tightly. With a sigh, I step back and manage a smile. “If we’re having dinner at Elaine’s, I want to shower first. We always stay late.”
He smiles in response, but it’s not as bright as usual. “Not too late. I know you need your rest.”
Stretching up on my tiptoes, I kiss his lips. “Thanks.” Then I head back to my bedroom to get ready. For the short-term, I’ll trust him and put this discussion on hold.
Thursday night always feels like the start of the weekend, even though Friday is still a workday. Elaine stands by the stove, a glass of white wine in her hand when we arrive. The room smells like tomato-ey deliciousness, and my friend is still dressed from school in a navy pencil skirt and a pink sweater-set. She’s also barefoot, and her light-blonde hair is pulled up in a messy bun.
“Come in!” She calls, giving the pot one last stir before dropping the wooden spoon and stepping over to hug me. “I hope you’re in the mood for Italian. Oh, Mel. You’re absolutely glowing!”
She squeezes my arms before smiling up at Derek. “You’re now officially my third favorite person on the planet.”
He laughs and leans down to kiss her cheek. Her head tilts toward him. “I guess third is better than thirtieth.”
“Well, I have to count Patrick first, Melissa second—”
“I’ve been replaced!”
She laughs, and just then Patrick emerges from the side room, his arms full of laundry. “Hey, guys.” The sunshine is back in his voice, and it’s very reassuring.
“She’s got you doing laundry now?” Shaking my head, I glance up at Derek.
“I’ve got a service that comes once a week.” He almost sounds apologetic, which makes me laugh more.
Patrick pauses to speak low in my ear. “Not all of us are as set as Mr. Alexander.”
“Wait!” Elaine stops him and pulls a dress out of the load. “This is dry clean only.”
“Sorry, babe, but it’s got a little stain on it.” He gives her a wink, and she shakes her head.
She doesn’t notice that when she pulls out the dress, a gold silk tie goes with it. It hits the floor, and I pick it up, noticing how horribly misshapen and nearly torn it is. “Oh, no!” Flipping it over, I see an Armani label.
Patrick reemerges from the laundry room. “What?”
“Your tie is ruined. What happened to it?”
“Oh!” Elaine charges back and snatches it out of my hand. Her cheeks are flaming red, and Patrick laughs loudly.
“Elaine, tell number two what happened to my best tie.” That devilish gleam is in his eye, and it takes me a second to catch up. “My kinky fiancée thought she’d play dominatrix, but I had to set her straight.”
“Patrick Knight!” My best friend’s voice is a loud command as she returns from dropping both items in their bedroom.
“There she goes again.”
Derek coughs a laugh, and my eyebrows fly up. “Well, okay then.” I’m trying not to laugh, too. “TMI, number one.”
“Good work.” Derek gives him a fist bump. I elbow my own fiancé sharply in the stomach. He grunts another laugh. “I mean… sorry about your tie?”
Elaine’s voice is high, and her back is turned while she stabs the wooden spoon in the pot repeatedly. “We can all just stop talking about it now!”