12. Asher #2
“He... had me again,” Dahlia murmured, staring directly into her mug.
“I was awake but couldn’t move. I could feel him…
touching me.” Her knuckles were white as she gripped her coffee, and I resisted the urge to reach out and soothe her.
“You... came and found me. But he was still there, and you didn’t see him,” she explained hoarsely, her gaze shifting abruptly to meet mine.
“I tried to warn you, but I couldn’t make a sound because of the collar.
I wanted to, but I couldn’t.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she started to shake, coffee spilling over the rim of her mug.
Hunter jumped up to grab some paper towels as I quickly took the mug from her hands so she didn’t burn herself.
“I watched him stab you, over and over, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.
There was blood everywhere, it just wouldn’t stop.
” Tears spilled down her cheeks, and I rose immediately, shifting to kneel down beside her.
“Hey, it was just a dream, okay? I’m here, I’m right here.
” I took her hand and put it over my heart.
“See? All my blood is still right where it’s supposed to be, pumping through my heart.
” Dahlia took a shuddered breath, her hand staying pressed against my chest. She used the sleeve of my hoodie to wipe away the tears coating her face, and I waited until she took another, steadier breath before I released her hand.
“You don’t have to worry about me, okay?
It’s my job to worry about you, and it’s Hunter’s job to worry about me.
He wouldn’t let anyone stab me, right?” I looked up at him, and he forced a laugh, shaking his head.
“No, I couldn’t suffer the paperwork if I did,” he replied casually, but I could hear it was strained.
I didn’t want him reading more into this then he needed to.
At least, it had seemed to help reassure Dahlia somewhat, and I handed her back her coffee once her hands stopped shaking as hard.
I rose and sat down in my chair, taking a sip from my own abandoned mug.
It was quiet for a little while, until Hunter’s phone began to ring.
He jogged back to his room to retrieve it, and I half listened to the muffled conversation as I drank my coffee.
I was surprised when I heard him raise his voice, and we both turned when he began shouting.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Dahlia murmured, setting down her mug. I agreed with her on that front. Hunter stormed back into the room, looking furious.
“Some idiot leaked your location to the press. We’ve got reporters converging on the hotel as we speak.”
I swore under my breath, grabbing my duffel bag and hunting for a clean shirt. I borrowed Hunter’s bathroom and changed quickly, shoving the rest of my clothes in the bag. Once I came back out, Hunter headed in to do the same. Dahlia was standing in the kitchen, looking unsure of what to do.
“We need to get your things packed up and get out of here right away,” I told her, hating how she paled at the thought. “Come on, you get dressed and I can help you gather up your things.”
She led the way to her room, heading straight for the bag Amanda had brought for her.
She rooted through it quickly, grabbing a few things before moving to the bathroom.
I hunted around the room, gathering up every article of clothing I could find and shoving it haphazardly in the bag.
We could sort out the laundry situation later.
I checked the drawers and under the bed to make sure nothing was getting forgotten, and I just finished my sweep as Dahlia came back out, holding her pajamas in her arms. She’d changed into a pair of jeans and I assumed a shirt, but she was still wearing my giant hoodie overtop.
I held out the bag for her clothes and zipped it up once she dumped them inside.
“Where will we go now?” she asked, following me back outside.
That was a good question, we didn’t have a back-up site right now, this wasn’t a problem we’d ever run into before.
That fucking asshole of a mayor had made her into a bit of a celebrity, working the media up into a veritable frenzy.
I looked at Hunter, who looked just as clueless as I was.
“My place is close by. Let’s go there for now, we’ll figure out the rest later,” I suggested, and Hunter nodded.
“I’ll go and distract them, you and Dahlia go out the back and take your car,” Hunter instructed.
I shrugged our bags over my shoulder, keeping one arm free just in case, and gestured for Dahlia to follow me.
She tugged her hood over her head, obscuring her profile, which was smart.
Hunter headed toward the main elevators while we went in the opposite direction to the stairwell.
I checked quickly before we ducked inside and went down until we reached the parking garage.
Scanning the garage, I didn’t see too much movement, which was fortunate.
I led Dahlia to my car and helped her inside before stowing the bags in the trunk, keeping an eye out for anything unusual.
We managed to exit the garage without any incidents, but I wasn’t sure how we got that lucky.
As we pulled out, I could see the absolute circus out front, media vans covering the length of the street, with reporters camping out on the front steps.
I turned us away from the fray, driving in the opposite direction toward my building.
Dahlia was quiet as she stared out the window, and I wondered what was going through her head.
It wasn’t even the afternoon yet, and she’d already had one hell of a day.
Pulling up to the old apartment building I lived in, I realized that I was in no way prepared to have guests.
In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had someone over.
Apprehension brewed in my stomach as I parked and grabbed our bags, ushering Dahlia inside.
“I, um… I’m sorry about the mess,” I warned her, fumbling to get my keys out.
“I don’t usually have company, and I haven’t been home much in the last couple of weeks.
” I dropped our bags inside the door and flicked on the light, watching her face anxiously.
Her eyes widened, taking in the rather chaotic state of things.
Bookshelves lined the walls, stacked to overflowing, and every available surface had more books stacked on top of it.
I had left one wall with some free space, and that one was covered in several peg boards where I could hang up my notes for cases or my personal research.
It was an open space studio, so my bed was visible in the far corner, with my dresser and my clothes hamper sitting nearby.
My kitchen table was buried under more papers and books since I normally would eat my meals at the coffee table in front of the TV.
Dahlia drifted over to the nearest stack of books, crouching down to read the spines.
I hovered awkwardly, feeling out of place in my own apartment.
I could see the dust had gathered in my absence, and god, the state of my fridge must’ve been horrible.
“The Art of Slight of Hand?” Dahlia asked, pulling a book closer to the top. “Do you like magic?” I laughed, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Sort of, I like card tricks,” I told her with a smile. She put it back carefully and stood up, walking over to the nearest bookshelf, continuing to browse through my collection.
“Have you read all of these?” she asked curiously, trailing her fingers over the spines as she looked them over. It felt weirdly intimate having her here, letting her see the private aspects of my life. I guessed, we were sort of even now, in a way.
“I have, yeah,” I replied. “Some were gifts and others I got for work. Some were just for fun,” I explained.
“Would you like something to drink?” I offered, needing something to do.
I walked over to my fridge and checked inside, but all I had was a moldy block of cheese, a cup of yogurt that I probably shouldn’t even open, and a few bottles of condiments.
My cupboards were a little better, I found an unopened bag of pretzels and a bottle of whiskey one of my uncles had given me as a gift for getting my PHD.
“Sorry, it’s not much,” I sighed. “We can order in something a bit more substantial,” I announced, walking out with what I’d found. Dahlia had grabbed a book and was curled up on the couch, flipping through it. She looked up as I approached and set the book down in her lap.
“That works for me,” she replied. I set our snacks down on the coffee table and went back to fetch a couple of glasses.
I poured us each a healthy measure and opened the bag of pretzels, testing one to make sure they weren’t too stale.
I looked over at the book Dahlia was reading, noticing the images of flowers on a few of the pages.
“The Love Language of Flowers.” Dahlia smiled, holding up the spine for me to see. “You sure have some strange interests,” she mused, continuing to flip through it.
“I thought it was interesting, some people still really believe in some of these,” I told her.
“Like white lilies. You shouldn’t give someone white lilies because they’re considered a flower for condolences, so you’d normally only see them at funerals.
” Dahlia nodded along with me, picking up her whiskey and giving it a tentative sip.
“Ah, I see.” She smiled. “So you got this to make sure you wouldn’t make a faux-pas when you bought a girl flowers.”
“Exactly.” I nodded solemnly, but a smile tugged at the corners of my lips.