Chapter 24
Emma
“You want to leave?” With a glass of Arnold Palmer in my hand, I shift my gaze away from the flowers we spent the afternoon planting so I can focus entirely on Dylan. I can still feel his hand on my cheek, just as I can still feel the hammering of his heart beneath my palm.
But he’d been himself the entire time. Proof that the monster he’s created in his mind doesn’t exist. That he may struggle, but he’s not lost.
Thank You, Lord. I smile, feeling God present with us right now. He’s always there, and that brings me calm in the midst of this storm we’re facing.
“I think it’s probably for the best,” Dylan replies, then takes a sip of his sweet tea. “Get some distance between us and this place. He won’t know where to find you then.”
“What about stopping him?”
“We can do that from a distance—we’re already doing it that way.
And I’m no computer whiz like Tucker, or a strategist like Bradyn and Elliot.
I’m the brute force that comes in behind them,” he says with absolute conviction and no arrogance.
It’s a simple fact. “The skills I offer aren’t needed just yet. ”
A shiver runs through me as his words settle in. Just what skills is he talking about? “What about Riley? Where does he fall in the skills category?”
Dylan smirks. “Riley has a bit of everything. He’s actually been to see Harlow and managed to get her talking a bit more. Nothing much, but he’s trying to make her comfortable in hopes she’ll have something else to offer.”
“Really? I don’t know why I’m surprised. I still remember him sweet-talking his way out of trouble when he accidentally drove his truck through Mrs. Perry’s flower bed in the eleventh grade.”
Dylan laughs. “Yeah, he’s got a gift, for sure. The point is, I think it’s best if we go. At least for a little while.”
“What about my cat?”
“My mom actually offered to take him in. If that doesn’t work, we can try to bring him too. It’s just a long trip.”
“Where are we going?”
“Better if I don’t say that just yet.” He sets his tea down and crosses his arms. “But it’ll be somewhere safe.”
I consider. “We just planted all those flowers.”
“They’ll be here when we get back. Automatic sprinklers,” he explains with a smile. “They’ll be fine.”
“What about Harlow?”
“She’ll remain here. I don’t think he’s after her—at least, not yet.”
“What makes you think that? He tried to kill her.”
Dylan shakes his head. “That shot was specifically meant to not kill her. The weather was good, clear line of sight—the sniper shouldn’t have had any issue killing her.”
“That’s so twisted to think about.” I take a drink from my glass, hoping it’ll somehow settle my churning stomach.
“I agree. Point is, I don’t think he wants her dead. He’ll come for her, sure, but it’ll be at the same time he comes for you, or after.”
“So if I’m gone—”
“It makes it even safer for her here.”
I nod. “That makes sense. If your mom can keep Ash, that would be great. He’s a tolerant cat, but shifting around too much might stress him out. What about Delta?”
“He’ll come with us. I need him.”
“Good. I’m glad he’ll be with us.” Leaning down, I pet Delta, who immediately rolls onto his back and shows his belly. “He’s a good boy, aren’t you, buddy?”
“He really likes you.”
“I like him too.” I give him one more big pet, then lean back in my chair. “When will we leave?”
“First thing in the morning,” he says. “I’ve already let Bradyn, Tucker, Elliot, and Riley know, and they’ve agreed to keep us in the loop if anything is found out. But I think putting some distance between me and this case is the smart move. At least, for now.”
“Can I ask why?”
Dylan’s jaw clenches. “Because I wanted to track down and kill everyone who’s a threat to you.”
I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t his candid response. I know that I’m na?ve to the troubles of this world. I’ve lived happily in my bubble here in Pine Creek, recent kidnapping aside, but the idea of Dylan staring a man in the face and pulling the trigger is such a hard thing to picture.
“The skills I offer aren’t needed just yet.” Killing? Is that the skill set he’s referring to?
He’s always been so sensitive. So kind-hearted, and the idea of hurting anything never even crossed his mind. Was it the training he went through that hardened him? Or his time being held captive?
Both?
He turns to me. “Not pretty, right? It’s true though. I’ve eliminated dangerous men before, and in my head, this would be no different.”
It’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to learning what he did for the special forces. “This isn’t war.”
“It is,” he counters. “But I also recognize it’s not the same caliber, and while I wouldn’t hesitate to put him down if he came for you, tracking and killing him isn’t right.” Dylan sighs. “It makes me no better than he is.”
I reach over and take his hand, hesitating only a moment before my fingers close around his.
He stiffens beneath my touch, and I nearly pull my hand away, but then he turns his and links his fingers with mine. My heart flips in my chest, and warmth spreads through me, starting at my hand and traveling up my arm.
“We’ll go first thing in the morning,” I say. “And all of this will work out. You’ll see.” I smile at him, hoping it’ll reassure him that he’s making the right choice.
“I’ve been praying more lately.” He pulls his hand away. “Trying to find peace.”
My smile widens so far that my cheeks hurt. “That’s great.”
“I think I’m finding a little bit at a time. But it’s a work in progress.”
“That’s okay,” I tell him. “I’m proud of you for trying.”
“I want more than I have now.” He turns to me. “I thought I was okay with being alone. Of watching my brothers start families and have children. But the past few days, I’m realizing I don’t want that existence.”
I have to remind myself to breathe as I listen to him. Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
“I want to heal because I want a family too. And I want a chance with you. If you think you could see me that way after everything I’ve put you through. I know it hasn’t been easy—or fair.”
The smile that spreads over my face is so beyond wide that it hurts—but I don’t care. “Dylan, you’re the only man I’ve ever loved. I would wait forever for you.”
He smiles, relief evident in the softening of his expression. “Let’s hope it doesn’t take that long.”
Glass shatters, ripping me from sleep.
Still exhausted, I shoot up out of bed and stare toward the door. Silence. Did I imagine it?
A man lets out a broken cry, and more glass crashes to the ground. I jump out of bed. Dylan! Adrenaline surges through my system, making my limbs shake as I rush toward the door.
As I’m reaching for the top lock, though, his warning comes back to me. Just as the promise I made to him two days ago does.
“At night, you lock both of these, okay? And you don’t come out—no matter what you hear.”
Delta barks.
I promised him I would stay in here. But what if he’s hurt? What if he needs me?
Another bark.
I throw my promises to the side. I will not sit here and wait for him to self-destruct or get hurt because I’m afraid.
So, with trembling fingers and another hit of adrenaline surging through my system, I unlock the door and step out into the dark hallway.
Slowly, I make my way down the hall and toward the living room.
The moment I step inside, I see the source of the broken glass is the vase he’d had on his end table. It’s shattered on the floor, flowers trampled. The table it had been sitting on is tipped on its side.
A new fear ices through me. Did Heath come? Did he take Dylan?
I slip into the kitchen and retrieve a knife from the block on Dylan’s countertop. Pain shoots up through my foot, and I hiss through clenched teeth as I raise it and pluck a chunk of glass out of my heel. Come on.
The glass is all over the kitchen, so I backtrack out, a trail of blood following me as I make my way around the counter and toward the open back door. I can bandage my foot once I know that Dylan’s okay.
It can wait. He can’t.
As soon as I reach the door, the fear that Heath found us vanishes. There’s no one else in sight—just Dylan. Kneeling right at the edge of his pool. Both hands are planted on the concrete ledge, and Delta whimpers beside him, nuzzling him with his snout.
“Dylan?” I call out.
He doesn’t answer, so I limp down the porch steps and cross the ground toward him, going slow so I don’t startle him.
“Dylan? Are you okay?”
Still, he doesn’t answer. Moonlight shines down on top of his bare back, and as I get closer, I get a horrific view of what looks like whipping scars across his back. Jagged and raised, they cover every inch of his skin.
How did I not see those before? When we were in the ocean?
I’d seen the ones on his chest, but these— How much more did he suffer?
How much pain did he have to live through before they rescued him?
What wounds did they inflict that cannot be seen?
Tears stream down my cheeks as I reach Dylan. “Dylan?” I whisper, but he still doesn’t say anything. When he doesn’t even look at me, I reach forward and gently touch his arm.
He explodes like a bomb, his entire body erupting as he lunges to his feet. I jump away, trying to get out of the way, but lose my footing and fall backward—knife still in my hand.
“Help!” I scream right before I hit the water.
It surrounds me, closing in around me like a vise. I panic, heart racing as I kick my feet and thrash in the water. Water fills my lungs when I try to scream. My chest burns. Something hits the water, and strong arms come around me.
I’m hauled against a hard body and all but thrown out of the water and onto the side of the pool. I cough, water spewing from my burning lungs.
“I’m so sorry, Emma. I’m so sorry.” Dylan is there, rolling me onto my side and gently patting my back. “I’m so sorry,” he says again, tone panicked. Water drips from his hair onto my face while I suck oxygen into my lungs.
“It’s okay,” I choke out. “Wasn’t your fault.”