Chapter 7
Raven stumbled back, her legs hitting the bed. “Xander.”
Fear ran over her body, slipping beneath her skin and racing through her blood.
He stepped into the room, taking up all the space. Once upon a time, his height and breadth had been a comfort. Now, every inch of him screamed danger.
He glanced at her arms, still dripping wet. She didn’t need to look down to know red still stained her skin. Then he looked at her bag on the bed.
His eyes were hard. Calculating. And completely unreadable. “Going somewhere?”
So much of her wanted to be brave. To stand tall. To be fierce. But she didn’t feel brave or tall or fierce. It felt like a loaded gun was pointed at her head. And maybe he did have a weapon. Tonight, she was realizing that anything was possible.
“Yes. I’m leaving.” Too small. Her voice was too small.
He ran a finger over the dresser as he stepped forward. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“I am.” Her voice hardened now, her shoulders a bit straighter. “Sampson’s—”
“Dead. I know.”
He said it so easily, like her best friend’s body wasn’t the most earth-shattering thing she’d ever seen. “I’m going to the police. And you can’t stop me.”
With bravery she didn’t know she had, she left her bag on the bed and walked around him. He grabbed her arm and shoved her against the wall.
Pain exploded in her skull, making her cry out.
He stepped in close, crowding her, suffocating. “You didn’t hear me, Raven. You’re not going anywhere.” Then he threw her to the floor.
Raven cried out as she hit the floor, her temple colliding with something sharp and hard.
Ow!
She touched her forehead, and when she pulled her hand back, blood coated her fingers.
Great. Carefully, she pushed to her feet, a distinct shake in her knees. A tremble that almost had her sinking back down.
In the cabinet behind the desk, she found the first aid kit.
Goose bumps dotted her arms, the chill in her office making her fingers feel numb.
You’d think after a week of sleeping here, she’d be used to the morning cold. But there didn’t seem to be any getting used to this.
There was central heat in the center, of course.
But turning it on ran the risk of raising the energy bill…
and that risked people like Ferris asking questions.
Questions she didn’t want to answer. She couldn’t answer.
Because if he found out she was sleeping in her office, there was every chance he’d kick her out and fire her, and then she’d be homeless and jobless.
A knock on the front door of the center had Raven dropping the bandage and spinning toward the closed office door.
No one was supposed to be here until ten a.m. bingo. It was barely eight.
Could it be Ferris? No, he never checked up on her. Not unless Lottie dragged him in. Could it be both of them? Did they know what she was doing?
Shit.
Quickly, she grabbed the pillow and blanket from the couch and shoved them beneath the desk.
Another knock sounded, louder this time.
Crap, crap, crap!
Her gaze shot to the bottom drawer of her desk, where she’d hidden her gun.
Surely she wouldn’t need that. No one attacked someone at eight a.m.
She put her hand on the doorknob, only to curse, turn back, grab the gun, then walk out to the main room with slow, measured steps. When she got to the door, she didn’t open it right away. Instead, she shouted through the thick wood, “Who’s there?”
“Connor.”
Air rushed from her lungs. Out of every scenario—Lottie, Ferris…Xander—Connor was by far the best option.
“Um…just a second.” Quickly, she raced back to the office and stowed the gun, feeling beyond stupid for overreacting. Faster than she’d possibly ever changed in her life, she tugged off her sweats and sweater—yes, she’d slept in layers—and changed into jeans and a pale pink sweatshirt.
After flattening her hair, she rushed back to the door and tugged it open. “Sorry.”
The easy, relaxed expression on his face dropped so quickly, she almost missed it.
Then he was stepping into her space, his earthy scent teasing her nose. “What happened?”
“What do you—”
He reached up and ran his finger over her forehead. When he pulled it back, there was blood.
Oh God. She’d been in such a panic, she’d forgotten about the cut.
“I fell.” She cringed, because it was the most cliché lie someone told when they were hiding something. But she wasn’t technically lying, she had fallen. Just off the couch…while sleeping in her office…dreaming about the worst night of her life.
The darkness on his face almost had her stepping back. He looked like a stranger, and for a second she got just a glimpse of the dangerous Navy SEAL he’d once been.
Then he seemed to physically pull himself out of it. His frown eased into more concern than fury, and he set a hand on the small of her back as he closed the door. “Come on. I’ll help you clean it up.”
He led her to the office and guided her to the couch. She didn’t miss the way he scanned the space, like he was searching for the person who’d done this to her.
It’s me. I did this to me. She almost wanted to put up her hand like she was in school. How she’d forgotten about the cut, she had no idea. The first aid kit was right there on the desk.
Had she called herself stupid yet? Because she felt pretty stupid.
He grabbed the kit before kneeling in front of her. “How’d you fall?”
“I’m not sure. It happened so quickly.”
Well, that one was most definitely a lie. The same nightmare had plagued her sleep so many times it was impossible to forget. She’d just never had it while sleeping on a couch.
He took out an antiseptic wipe. His jaw was set, like he was angry. “This might sting.” Despite the way he looked, his tone was gentle.
He hesitated before swiping it across the cut.
And yes, there was a small sting, but she was too distracted to react.
By the green of Connor’s eyes, which were mossy and too beautiful for her to look away from.
The faded scar beside his right eye, which made her wonder how he got it.
And by the way the muscles in his forearm tightened as he dabbed the wipe across the wound.
“I haven’t seen you around town much in the last week,” he said softly. “And you’ve barely been responding to my messages.”
She swallowed. She’d barely been talking to or seeing anyone other than her parents. Not Maggie or Polly. Least of all Connor. When things got hard, she turned into a hermit because hiding from the world felt a bit safer.
She fiddled with the edge of the couch. “I’ve been busy.” Yeah, busy wondering where she was going to live. There was nowhere affordable available right now, and she did not want to drain the little money she had left on an Airbnb or motel room.
“Too busy to respond to a text?”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ve been worried about you.”
Her pulse fluttered. Other than her parents, no one had worried about her for a while. “I’m okay.” Kind of. Sort of. She was surviving.
His hand paused at her temple, wipe hovering. And he looked at her like he saw through her lie. Through the armor she’d so carefully set in place. But that wasn’t possible. He barely knew her.
So why did she feel like he saw everything she was trying to hide?
Connor was sure Raven thought her expression was polished. And yeah, he might have been fooled into thinking everything she said was true…if not for her eyes. Those beautiful blues were like open pools of vulnerability.
The need to protect her, even though he wasn’t sure what from, tugged at something primal inside him.
He tried to focus on the small cut. It was an angry red and already bruising. That wasn’t the only reason he was pissed though. There were shadows beneath her eyes, suggesting she hadn’t slept in days. Her cheeks had hollowed, as if she wasn’t eating.
“Do you always get to work this early?”
Most wouldn’t notice anything in her reaction at his question. He didn’t miss the small flinch. The way she fiddled nervously with the material covering the old sofa while not quite meeting his gaze. “Not usually, but there’s lots to do right now.”
She was lying. Everything about her body language told him that.
Why?
He lowered the wipe to grab a Band-Aid. As he did, he subtly swept the room with his gaze, clocking everything wrong with this setting.
The edge of a blanket beneath the desk. Closed curtains even though it was light outside. A toothbrush in a cup on the desk. She’d also answered the door barefoot.
She was sleeping here.
The realization settled like a rock in his gut.
He turned back to her. “If there’s anything you want help with, anything at all, you can talk to me.”
“We barely know each other.”
“You’re my friend,” he corrected. He placed the Band-Aid on her temple before meeting her gaze again. “Everyone needs someone in their corner, Raven. Let me be your person.”
Longing seeped into her expression. It lit the shadows across her face, and for a second he thought she might trust him. Give him something that was true and tangible. Something he could use to help her.
Then her gaze lowered, and when she looked up again, the armor was back. “Thank you, but I don’t need help.” She slipped around him and stood before stepping back.
He was slower to rise, trying to swallow the lump of disappointment in his throat. “Raven—”
“Thank you so much for checking on me. Work’s been hectic, but I know I need to get better at responding to people.”
She wasn’t going to tell him anything. Not yet.
She crossed to the door, then headed across the main room. “Going to work now?” she called over her shoulder.
“I am. We’ve had a few tourists needing help finding their way out of the woods lately, even some locals. I doubt today will be any different.”
“I overheard a woman at yoga talking about your team and how much she’d love to be saved by you guys.”