Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Athena
I carefully felt for the nightstand, my fingers instinctively finding the familiar barrier of pill bottles, a water bottle, and tissues along the edge.
Everything had to be in the same spot for me to find it—to know where it was. Necessity bears proficiency. My mind was used to creating images. Layouts. Design. Structure. Artwork. And that skill helped me now. Or at least, I liked to think it did.
Using my hand as a guide so I didn’t knock anything over, I found the box of crayons I’d set behind the tissues and pulled it to my lap, fumbling to return whichever color I’d chosen back to the box. Rob apologized earlier, saying that the only art supplies she could scrounge together on such short notice were ones that belonged to her nieces.
I didn’t mind, I assured her. I wasn’t going for a masterpiece—just memory. Of him.
Was I losing my mind? Dare was a stranger to me in the most basic sense of the word. Except he wasn’t. The shape of his face, the feel of him—it was both foreign and familiar at the same time.
The lines of his face. The ridge of his brow. The curve of his lips. The memory of his skin under my fingertips. The scent of him still lingered in my nose. The rasp of his voice is still buried in my ears. The feel of him, hard and angled and damaged. And the taste?—
“ Stop licking your lip.”
With the rest of my senses in overdrive, I swore I could taste him on my tongue. Rich and heady and masculine. But it was an invisible taste that made me hungry for more.For a man I couldn’t see. A man who’d protected me.
That was the funny thing about senses. Just because sight sometimes dominated the others didn’t mean that without it, the rest couldn’t paint a better picture. And trying to draw Dare was like creating a portrait of a flame. Sure, seeing the shape and color of the fire was part of it, but it was nothing compared to the picture painted by the other senses. From the sound of its power crackling and popping. To the scent of its consuming strength. And finally, to the pulsing, dangerous caress of its heat. Even if I could see Dare, I had a feeling the sight of him would only be a small part of the way he burned in my mind.
I traced my fingers over the paper, searching for the roughness where the wax crayon had marred it. I’d learned very quickly that everything I knew about drawing went out the window when I couldn’t rely on my eyes. My first several attempts ended up in crumbled balls to be thrown away. The trick was the crayon couldn’t leave the paper. Like peeling an orange by trying to remove the whole skin in a single, intact piece, his portrait was made of a single weaving, turning, curling, and cutting line.
The drawing was still probably terrible, but that didn’t matter. I didn’t want it to be seen, I only wanted it to help me remember the handsome, scarred man who’d saved my life.
And the activity made the last several hours pass in what felt like minutes—something that would’ve instead felt like centuries if I’d instead spent it pacing along the walls of the safe house, wondering where Dare was. What he’d found out. If he’d found Brandon. If Brandon had…
Oh god.
I walked my fingers to the small alarm clock at the farthest end of the nightstand, hitting the first button on the right, and instantly, the clock’s drone voice announced, Eight thirty-seven.
It was late. Too late.I let out a small whimper and reached for the eye mask, tugging it off my head. The day had passed. Rob had brought me dinner. And now, I needed a new distraction because I obviously wasn’t getting any answers tonight.
I closed the notebook over my drawing and pushed it to the side of me. My feet worked their way to the floor, my hand on the nightstand as I stood. There was a method to make it safely to the bathroom.
The edge of the nightstand guided my first two steps. Then there were another two steps inan open abyss. From there, the doorframe of the bathroom was within arm’s reach, providing my next support to guide me into the room.
Every time I stepped onto the cool tile floor, I heard Rob’s voice in my mind as she’d described the room to me.
“On your right, yup, right there is the vanity. One sink. Okay, and when you get here, hold the corner and turn to your right. Now you’re straight in front of the toilet. If you don’t turn, another three or four steps this way…will put you right at the shower door.” My fingers pressed to the glass, streaking it with my fingerprints, until I reached the handle. “Don’t open the door all the way because it will bang into the side of the tub, which is on your left.”
I paused.A bath sounded good. Relaxing . It sounded like something I could use tonight.
I moved even slower to the left, suddenly in uncharted territory. Usually, my travels ended at the shower. It couldn’t be more than a?—
“Oww—” I swallowed down my cry as my leg banged into the edge of the tub. “Crap.” My exhale rushed from my chest, taking some of the instantaneous pain with it. I was getting better at getting injured.
Moving with a kind of painful slow motion, my hands mapped the oval shape of the tub and the anchor on the faucet on the right side, turning the handles one at a time until I determined which tap was hot and which was cold.
As the water filled, I undressed and tried to remember the last time I’d treated myself to a bath—Brandon always complained about how expensive it was to draw one in our house in Sacramento. Very expensive apparently when he was gambling our life away.
How could I not have seen it? Could I have been that ? —
“Because you don’t pay attention, Athena. It’s like you don’t give a shit ? —”
“I do care, Brandon!”
“Right. Which means you’ve got nothing more than a pretty face.”
I flinched, able to recall that particular insult with the same clarity as if he’d physically slapped me. Reaching for the waist of my pants, I shimmied them down my legs, lifting one foot out first, and when it came back down, it was into a pool of water.
“No! ” I cried out. One more thing I didn’t think of—monitoring the water level as it filled.
I scrambled for the faucet just as a loud bang echoed from somewhere else in the house .
“Athena!”
I spun at the sound. Dare. And mid-turn, my foot caught on my pants that were still attached to one ankle, slipped on the wet floor, and pitched me forward.
This time, even Dare wasn’t fast enough to stop my fall.
“Ahh!” Pain erupted in my hip as it smashed into the tile an instant before my palm miraculously found purchase and stopped my face from becoming the next casualty.
“ Athena !”
Those familiar hands grabbed my shoulders— my bare shoulders. Of all the thoughts I’d had in the last three seconds—the water on the floor, the impending injury from a fall, the sound of Dare rushing to save me—the recollection that I was practically naked wasn’t one of them.
But now, it was my only thought.
Not the water under my palms. Not the pain in my hip. Not the rush of the faucet I hadn’t managed to completely turn off.Nothing except that I was naked and alonewith a man I hardly knew.
I should be afraid. Embarrassed. I should be scrambling for cover. But if I felt any of those things, they were burned away by the heat of him. Charred by the warmth of his touch. Scorched by the sudden ache that made my nipples pebble and the center of me clench with want.
“Are you alright?”
My chin jerked down.
“Okay. Don’t move,” he husked, and his hold disappeared for an instant. I heard his steps splash through the water before his heat was in front of me again.
“Here.” The soft terry of a towel pressed to my chest, and as soon as I held it, he said low, “I’m right here. Just going to stop the water.”
A task that would put his back to me. For privacy .
My throat went tight. Of course. For a second, I cared less about him seeing my naked breasts than I did about him seeing my blush— the color of a fool who wanted him to look.
I wanted him to look in the same way I wanted to know the taste of his lips on mine and the feel of his tongue in my mouth. I wanted him to look in a way I’d never be blind enough to ignore.
And that was ridiculous as well as unprofessional.
He’d saved me—was protecting me. Of course, he wouldn’t take advantage of that.
I hissed as I pushed up on my knees. Unfolding the towel, I pressed it to my chest, listening to the flow of water stop and the gurgle of the drain open up.
“I’m sorry,” I offered, gingerly feeling for my hip bone until a shot of pain made me wince. That bruise was going to be one for the books . “I shouldn’t have—I didn’t realize it would fill so fast. I’m such an idiot?—”
The sound that came from him was absolutely lethal and very, very close. “Don’t,” he warned, his hands taking my shoulders from behind. A shiver barreled through me, feeling the way he loomed behind me like an angry shadow. “Don’t ever call yourself that.”
“Dare…”
“Take my arm.” He took one of my wrists and moved my hand to his forearm. Thick. The ridges of muscle cut sharp edges into his skin. His hot, bare skin . “Hold on to me and get in the tub.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
I bit into my tongue, the urge to cry almost overwhelming me. I’d been prepared to give up on the bath after the mess I’d made—one more habit I’d learned with Brandon: if I didn’t get something right the first time, there wasn’t a second chance.
I shifted my weight, and the layer of water under my toes almost made me protest again; I should be the one cleaning all this up. But then the sharp pain in my leg and hip from my fall coincided with Dare’s deep command.
“Get in the water, Athena.”
“Okay.”
I held his arm as he turned as far away from me as he could. For the first time since meeting him, I wondered if he had a girlfriend. Not a wife; there was no ring on the hands that touched me. Or if he was just truly a gentleman.
Just get in the water, Athena.
My other arm released the towel I’d been holding tight. When it landed on the wet floor with a soft slap, Dare tensed.
My heart pounded into the front of my chest. A drumbeat that marched me forward down this heady, uncertain path. I reached down and untangled my soaked pants from my ankles, deciding to wait until I was in the water to remove my underwear. At this point, it seemed like the safest option.
Feeling for the edge of the tub, I lifted my leg over the side and stepped into the hot water. I shivered, the sensation so incredible I couldn’t move fast enough until I was sinking down into the heat. Dissolving was more like it. A deep, satisfying moan bubbled through my lips as the warm water seemed to erode away all my aches but one.
“You alright?”
“Yes,” I breathed out, noting the rasp of pain in his voice. I wanted to ask the same of him, but instead could only manage, “Thank you.”
He responded with a grunt, and then I heard him move next to the tub. There were slapping and sloshing sounds. He was cleaning up the water. Guilt bubbled in my chest.
“I’m so sorry about the mess,” I said softly, feeling tears prick back at the corners of my eyes .
“It’s fine, Athena. Really.” His voice was both gruff and soft. “It’s just water.”
At that, I felt some of the tension drain from my shoulders. “If you say so.”
He made a low noise, and then his wet footsteps moved away from the tub. Biting my bottom lip, I took the opportunity to reach for my underwear and work them over my hips, hoping his focus was where he was—on the other side of the bathroom.
When I heard a cabinet stretch open, I quickly lifted the hand and discarded the soaked string of fabric over the edge of the tub, thinking it would land discreetly on the towel I’d left piled there.
Instead, it landed with an unmistakable, unignorable sharp slap on the floor.
No. My pulse faltered, but I hadn’t imagined the sound. He’d moved my towel—used it to mop up the water. But the realization came too late. And it was instantly followed by Dare’s low, swift grunt as though I’d fired a bullet straight into his chest.
I held my breath, wishing it would slow the loud gallop of my pulse as I waited for what happened next. Maybe he would ignore it—pretend he hadn’t heard. Hadn’t looked. I could pretend, too. It wasn’t as though I could actually see him staring at my discarded thong on the ground, his body tense and his jaw pulsing. It wasn’t as though I could watch his hot stare start to smoke as it lifted and settled on me, the depths of his gaze churning with hunger.
It wasn’t as though I could see if any of this affected him the way it was affecting me.
“I’m going to get Rob.”
My exhale fired from my chest. Of course, he was. Because I wasn’t his guest. I was a victim. His charge.
“Wait,” I called, my voice cracking. Instantly, his steps halted like they were under my control, not his. “Why did you come? Did you find something? Did you find Brandon?”
I didn’t want him to leave. Out of all the things I wanted about this man, the thing I wanted most was for him to stay.
The catch of his breath betrayed his answer.
“What did he say?” I sat forward and pulled my knees to my chest, hating to beg. “Please, Dare. I need the truth.”
“Sacramento PD picked him up this morning. We questioned him, and he confessed to the gambling debts and to taking out the insurance policy.” His voice came closer. Lower. He had to be crouching near the tub.
“And the bomb?”
“Athena…”
Next to. He was next to the tub.
“The truth,” I whispered, knowing he was close enough to touch—to reach out and hold on to. A flame in my darkness.
“He planted the bomb on your car.”
The confirmation was like another bomb. Different. Silent. But no less harmful.
“Athena…”
Heat exploded from my fingers and ricocheted through my body. I blinked and registered the source—his hand on top of mine, where it rested on my knee.
“There’s more,” he said, his voice drawn tight. More? “Brandon claims the bomb wasn’t his. He said…someone paid him to put it there.”
Someone…paid him…
“I don’t…” I closed my lips and tried to swallow, but it felt impossible. Reality was too big and bitter a pill to swallow. “I don’t understand. Someone else wants me dead?” My head started to sway, and the water started to feel even hotter than when I’d first gotten in it. “Who wants me dead? Does he know? Do you know?”
“No—”
“And why?” I interrupted him, my voice pitching higher. “I was nothing, Dare,” I protested, half on a sob. “Brandon turned me into nothing for years. Until I went to divorce him. Then I became something—someone again, but not someone that anyone would want dead. I can’t?—”
“Athena.” The sound of his growl and the tightening of his grip reeled me back. Anchored me. “We have an idea.”
An idea.
Of who wanted me dead.
Of who paid my ex to blow me up.
“Have you heard of a man named Bernard Belmont?”
Belmont.
“The CEO of GrowTech?” My jaw went slack.
“So, you’ve heard of him.”
“Heard? Yes. But I—” I released my breath and gave my head a small shake. This couldn’t be real.
“What is it?” he demanded.
“I met him. Briefly,” I admitted. “Three of my paintings were featured at a fundraiser of theirs a few months ago. Not GrowTech, but?—”
“GrowGood.”
“You know…” I trailed off, listening to the steady stream of his breath blow tightly through his lips. “Glenn—the owner of the Tableau—arranged the connection. I guess she’d sold several pieces of art to Mr. Wenner, who is?—”
“The COO of GrowTech. Belmont’s right-hand man.” His thumb started to stroke mine, brushes of electric heat back and forth on my skin.
“Yes.” My voice hitched, trying to focus on the conversation and not the forbidden feel of his touch. “I was introduced to both of them at the fundraiser, but nothing more than a few words. Actually, that was where I met Rick for the first time.”
“Athena,” he rasped, his voice sounding as though it were being flayed from his vocal cords. “We believe a former employee of Belmont’s is trying to blackmail him.”
“Okay…” But what did that have to do with me?
“That employee’s name is Dr. Ray Ivans.”
“I don’t know that name.” Which was why it made no sense to feel a chill along my spine. Ray. No, there was no familiarity there. Was there?
“You don’t know it because he doesn’t use it anymore,” Dare said, the sound of his voice becoming nothing more than a rumble of syllables as he spoke aloud the fear in my mind. “He now goes by Richard Iverson.”
“Rick.” I couldn’t stop the shiver that went through me.
“It’s why we haven’t been able to locate him. He has several aliases that he’s been using, and none of the ones we are aware of are linked to any properties or rentals. He’s been MIA since the explosion.”
“Aliases?”
His slight pause gutted me. It was going to get worse.
“He’s…a fugitive. An international criminal. Wanted for theft, assault, fraud”—his voice cracked—“and murder.”
No… I wanted to sink beneath the water. Even without my sight, suddenly everything was too much. The sound of my unsteady breaths. The hammer of my heart.
“A mur…” I couldn’t even say the entire word.
“Athena—”
“Where do I fit in?” I forced the question out. It was either that or tears would overthrow me.
I heard the way his teeth ground together before he answered, “We think Belmont realized you two were seeing each other and thought, by killing you, he’d have leverage over Ivans to stop the blackmail. A warning that he could be next.”
“Collateral damage. ”
He didn’t have to say anything for me to know it was the truth.
“That’s why you were at my house that morning—because of him.” It had occurred to me more than once how fate had put this man in the right place at the right time to save me. But it wasn’t fate. It was facts. Evidence.
“We had a source provide a photograph of the two of you at dinner. I was coming to question you about him…to warn you.”
My chin bobbed slowly. Maybe a little bit of fate, then. I inhaled deeply and then exhaled. The darkness felt like a small blessing right now, letting me drift away into it.
“I don’t know what’s worse…that my ex-husband tried to kill me, that the man I was seeing is a criminal, or that it’s now his enemies who want me dead,” I said, and as soon as the words were out, a sound followed them. A rolling, tenuous, bubbling sound. Maybe some would call it a laugh, but it seemed wrong for laughter to come from the pain in my chest.
“I’m sorry.”
I shivered at the bone-deep pain buried in those words. It was so real—so raw—that for a second, I thought I saw him. Not clearly. Not anything more than a shift in the shadows. But that was the only reason why, when I stretched my hand out, it landed with perfect precision on the rough plane of Dare’s cheek.
“It’s not your fault.”