Chapter 4
HAZE
Andrew hated asking favors from his mother, and honestly I didn’t blame him.
The last time I’d spoken to either of my own parents was two years ago when they’d skipped out on a very incriminating crime scene and left my fingerprints all over it.
Sure, yes, I’d helped in the creation of a very specialized range of nerve agent warfare weapons, but I had no idea that was at the behest of a terrorist cell out of Switzerland.
I’d thought it was just a fun project with my dad.
What a dickhead.
Nonetheless, Andrew had come through, and I barely sat in the interrogation cell for ten hours before the order to release me arrived.
“I guess the rumors are true, then,” Marge, the thoroughly pissed-off Homeland Security agent snapped as she released my handcuffs.
“What rumors?” I asked, tired and bored enough to entertain her. I sort of felt bad. The whole team had been elated to arrest me, and now I was literally about to walk away unscathed.
She smirked. “That you and baby Knightsbridge have been living together at that fancy school. Making friends in real high places, huh?”
I sighed, kind of disappointed that was the rumor she was referring to. “It’s a university, Agent White. Are we done here?”
She glowered, but gestured toward the door, where another agent waited to escort me out of their secure compound. A blacked-out sedan sat on the street, engine running, and the agent delivered me right to it. I recognized the very subtle logo on the rims as the company Andrew’s mother employed.
“You’re lucky it was us that picked you up today, Haze,” the guy said in a conversational tone, despite the fact I’d never spoken with him in my life.
“If it was an organization with less morals, your friend may not have been able to get you released quite so easily. Or ever. I’d seriously recommend leaving the country, if you have even an ounce of sense. ”
I didn’t bother replying, because I had no intention of going anywhere except straight back to Bluebell House.
Back to her. If I were more inclined to psychoanalyze myself, I’d say I’d formed an unhealthy obsession with fragile little Evelyn Cromwell.
Good thing I didn’t care for self-reflection like that.
The driver of the waiting car said nothing.
He just opened the door for me and I slid into the back seat with another long exhale.
The door closed behind me and I scrubbed my hands over my face as I groaned.
Too many fucking people had touched me in the last ten hours and it’d taken all my strength not to lose my shit and break some faces.
Logically, I’d known that would only delay the process of getting released, and I couldn’t risk giving them any ammunition to hold me longer. I needed to get home and make sure Evelyn was okay.
She nearly died today.
If Lacey hadn’t been there, we would have been too late to save her. That thought made me sick.
The driver dropped me off in front of Bluebell House without a word, and I instinctively looked up toward Evelyn’s window. It was dark, but of course it was at one o’clock in the morning. Everyone should be asleep, but I wasn’t shocked to find Andrew sitting at the kitchen island, waiting for me.
“You okay?” he asked quietly as I slid into the stool seat beside him. He poured liquor into the empty glass he’d had out for me and slid it closer.
I nodded, downing the drink in one gulp. “Fine,” I grunted as he refilled my glass. “Thanks.”
He nodded back, knowing full well I wasn’t thanking him for the drink. For several minutes we just sat there in companionable silence, sipping our drinks with just a small lamp lighting the room.
“That was too close today,” Andrew finally said out loud with a heavy sigh, his shoulders curled with exhaustion.
Whether he was referring to Evelyn’s near death, or me getting arrested, it wasn’t clear. But both scenarios were fucking bad and way too fucking close.
“How’s Lacey?” I asked, remembering how bad she’d looked at the scene of the crash.
Andrew took another sip, giving a small shrug. “Should be fine. Came away with twelve stitches and a broken rib, but otherwise she’ll live to fight another day. Con went back to the hospital to check on her a couple hours ago.”
“That’s a relief,” I murmured, licking a droplet of scotch from my lip. “And Evelyn?”
Andrew made a vexed sound, and I didn’t fight the smile it put on my lips. “I possibly dumped a few too many secrets into her lap when we got home,” he admitted with a grimace. “I wasn’t thinking straight, and found myself just…spilling.”
My brows rose as I peered at him in surprise. As the president’s son, he was usually a Fort Knox when it came to secrets. “Shit. What kind of secrets?”
He blew out a long breath, ruffling his fingers through his routinely perfect hair with a clear display of how bent out of shape he currently was.
“I mentioned that we knew about her shooting, and that her father asked me to keep her safe here…and that Brodie was the one who’d saved her life in Tennessee. ”
Shocked, my lips parted, and I stared at my friend for a long moment. Then I snorted a laugh and shook my head. “You’re fucking hopeless, Drew.”
“What?” He scowled. “I didn’t mean to, it just came out. Brodie’s big mad at me now, too.”
I grunted, unsurprised by that. “How’d she take it?”
Andrew refilled our glasses again. “Not great. She asked for some alone time and hasn’t left her room since. Won’t even talk to Brodes, and he’s a damn mess about it.”
“Ah,” I murmured with an understanding nod. “So you’re sitting here drinking because you’re scared Brodie will smother you in your sleep.” It wasn’t a question, so his huff was enough of a response. “He’d do it too. All that time as Blood Sentinel has left him a bit unhinged and bloodthirsty.”
Andrew didn’t appreciate my humor, shooting me a narrow-eyed glare. “Thanks. Real helpful. And after I spoke to my mother for you, that’s the thanks I get?”
I let my grin widen and clinked my glass against his. “You’re welcome.”
“Dick,” he murmured without any real heat. “You okay? They held you longer than I anticipated.”
“I didn’t assault anyone, if that’s what you mean.”
He smirked. “It is, and I’m impressed. Did no one touch you the whole time?”
“No, they did. I’m just getting a bit better at restraining the urge to break faces.
” I downed the rest of my drink and pushed the glass away.
“I’m done. You should sleep, too.” Then I paused and frowned, staring at his shirt.
It was dirty, which was severely unlike Andrew, but I sure as fuck wasn’t going to point it out.
Shaking my head, I left him to his liquor and headed upstairs, pausing as I reached Evelyn’s door.
Andrew said she wasn’t talking to Brodie, which meant he wasn’t in there with her, and if she wanted to be alone, then it was likely she’d turned away Ethan.
So who then was available to comfort her when the inevitable nightmares struck?
We’d all seen how badly guns triggered her and today must have brought up the very worst of her trauma. She shouldn’t be alone.
I hesitated with my hand on her doorknob. Someone should be there for her, but why did I seem to think I was the best person for the job? I couldn’t even touch her. Ethan would be a much better option. I could wake him up and tell him she needed him…
And yet I turned the handle. Or I tried to. She’d locked the door.
It was almost enough to convince me to leave her alone, but a muffled cry from inside the room made up my mind for me. Good thing I had my own key so I didn’t need to break the lock, but that would have been my next option.
“No…” she moaned from the tangled bedsheets as I silently made my way across the room to flick on one of her bedside lamps. Maybe if she woke up and it wasn’t totally black in her room, it’d help chase away the shadows from her head.
“Please don’t shoot me,” she whimpered, the sound striking me like a dagger through the chest.
I sank to my knees beside her bed, reaching out a shaking hand without fully forming any rational thought about the consequences. All I knew was that I needed her to not be so afraid anymore.
“Evelyn,” I murmured, ever so gently stroking the purple-black hair away from her tense face. “Eve, wake up. It’s just a nightmare.”
She flinched like I’d slapped her, then her eyes snapped open and locked on mine. For a moment I thought that fear shining back at me was because of me, but then it instantly faded away and she snatched my fingers from her hair where I’d frozen.
“Haze,” she said in a breathy sigh, interlocking our fingers so tightly I couldn’t breathe. “You’re back.” Her eyes drifted closed again, and I wondered if she was still dreaming.
I swallowed hard, staring at her slim pale fingers entwined with my darker ones. “Yeah, I’m back,” I murmured. “Go back to sleep, beautiful, you were just having a nightmare.”
She gave a soft, relaxed sort of hum, like she was already asleep, and I stared at my hand in hers. Would her grip loosen as she fell deeper asleep? Could I slip my hand out without waking her? I certainly couldn’t kneel there beside her bed all night. That would be creepy.
Creepier than watching her on the hidden camera in her ceiling fan? Yes. Sort of. Maybe. It was definitely on par.
Her grip didn’t relax, but her breathing slowed, so I delicately tried to untangle our fingers. She instantly gripped tighter, though, her eyes snapping open once more.
“Haze,” she murmured again, her brow creasing with confusion. “What—”
“Shh, sleep,” I hushed before she could wake any more than she already had, but still attempting to free my hand.
She frowned deeper, pulling my hand into her chest. “Don’t leave me.”
Fuck.
That small command from this delicate little enigma melted me instantly. How could I leave now? I wet my lips, at a loss for what to say, but she just shuffled across her mattress to create a space on the bed as she tugged on my hand.
“Sleep with me?” she asked, even as her eyelids drooped closed again. “I’m scared…”
Holy fuck, how could anyone deny that request? Logically, I knew she meant sleep as in slumber, but I couldn’t deny the way my chest fluttered at the thought of her asking to sleep with me in a less wholesome way. Brodie and Ethan better know how lucky they were…
Helpless to do anything other than what she asked, I kicked off my shoes and climbed into her bed. Me. In bed with another human. Touching skin. I could safely say I never thought I’d heal enough for that to become a reality, and yet here we were.
Once I was lying down with my head on one of her pillows, she rolled closer and snuggled into my side, her free hand wrapping over my waist.
I held my breath, tense and panicked, waiting for my trauma response to kick in and ruin everything…but nothing happened. Her touch was soft and warm and utterly non-threatening. Hell, it was comforting, and I liked it so much more than I ever anticipated.
Maybe I wasn’t as broken as I always thought I was.
Maybe Evelyn was the answer.
Maybe…maybe…and for the first time in a long time, I had hope.