Chapter 10
Addie stepped inside Noah’s home, only to stop abruptly.
Holy crap…it was beautiful. But not in a modern, sleek kind of way. It was an old-style craftsman home that had clearly been renovated.
“Everything okay?”
She glanced at Noah beside her. “Yeah. I just…you have a nice place.”
The corners of his lips lifted. “Expecting a bachelor pad with a gaming console in front of a sixty-five-inch TV?”
“Maybe.” Definitely. And this was not that. It was warm and cozy and had character.
She stepped into the living room, where a fireplace centered the wall, with built-in shelving around it. Her gaze caught on the flames. “How is your fire on?”
“I texted my sister. She and Colt came by and put it on so the place would be warm when we got here.”
Thoughtful…another ridiculously attractive trait to add to his seemingly endless list.
She turned to see him alarming the house, the small bag she’d packed strung over his shoulder. A deep frown was now etched on his brow. It was the same one he’d worn in her house the entire time Jesse had been there.
“Thank you for letting me stay here,” she said quietly.
“You shouldn’t be in your house if someone has a key. Hell, you shouldn’t be alone while you have a stalker.”
Her pulse kicked against her throat. Stalker. The word sounded big and dangerous and uncomfortable, and she wanted it nowhere near her.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “I haven’t done anything to anyone. I don’t have money or influence. I’m only twenty-two. There’s no reason for someone to want me out of this town. And what was their goal tonight? What would they have done if you hadn’t arrived when you did?”
In the blink of an eye, Noah closed the space between them and cupped her cheek. “Hey. There are some sick people in the world, and they need very little motivation to do sick shit like this. It’s about them, not you.”
It had to be a bit about her. And she wanted to know why.
Tears suddenly burned her eyes—tears that she hated.
“I feel violated. They have a key to my home. How many times have they used it? I heard creaking the other night while I was sleeping. Was that them too? And the black hairs in my bathroom sink?” A shudder didn’t just course down her back, it rolled through her entire body.
Noah cursed and tugged her into him. “You’re safe with me.”
She believed it. They may not have known each other long, but out of every place she’d been in Amber Ridge, Noah’s arms felt safest.
She leaned into him, letting the tear that trickled down her cheek soak into his shirt. Letting the strength of his arms wrapped around her act like a protective shield.
When she pulled back, he gripped her hips, and for a second, her gaze caught on his lips, memories of their last kiss skittering through her mind. Of the rightness she’d felt in that moment. The safety that had enveloped her, and that she so desperately craved right now.
For a second, Noah’s eyes darkened, desire swirling in their gray depths. Then his jaw clenched and he stepped back. “Come on. I’ll show you where you’re sleeping.”
She followed him down the hall, only to frown when she stepped into a bedroom. There were dog tags on the dresser. A framed photo of Noah with a group of guys beside the bed. Even a shirt slung over a chair.
This wasn’t a spare room. This room was lived in.
She turned to Noah. “This is your room.”
“The spare’s filled with boxes.”
“I’m not taking your room.” Not just his room. His bed. His space. She’d be sleeping between the same sheets he slept between every night. No way. That felt far too intimate.
“I’ll sleep on the couch.” He said it like it was already a done deal.
“No, I’ll sleep on the couch.”
He laughed. “If you think I’d let you sleep on the couch, you don’t know me very well.”
“Why not? I’m smaller than you. It would be more comfortable for me.”
“No.”
She frowned. Just no? “Noah—”
“I was raised a gentleman, and there is no way in hell I would let my guest sleep on the couch when I have a perfectly good bed for her.”
She opened her mouth to argue more, but he got in first.
“It’s also a safety thing. I need to be closest to the door.” He lowered her bag to the bed. “Hungry?”
She sighed. “No.” For once, she didn’t even think she could stomach chocolate. Apparently, the knowledge that someone had been in her house while she’d showered completely turned her off food. “I might just take another shower and sleep. Are you sure—”
“You’re taking the bed.”
Dammit.
He took a half step toward her, making her breath catch in her throat. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before cupping her cheek. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
All she wanted to do was lean into that touch. And maybe she did, just a little bit. “No. But I will be.”
“You will be. Call out if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Don’t look at his lips, don’t look at his lips. The words whispered on repeat in her head. Because every time he stood this close, every time he touched her or she felt his breath against her skin, all she wanted to do was lift to her toes and see if he tasted as good as he had the first time.
He swiped her cheek with his thumb before dropping his hand and moving back. “There are fresh towels in the bathroom cabinet. Call out if you need anything.”
One more smile and then he was gone again. Suddenly, the room felt too quiet.
She wrapped her arms around her waist and scanned the room, wishing she had the courage to call him back.
Or even ask him to sleep in the same room.
But that was ridiculous. She was a grown woman and they weren’t in a relationship.
They’d kissed once, that was it. It was not appropriate for them to share a bed.
After a quick shower—her second for the night—she turned off the lights and slipped beneath the sheets.
And just like she’d known it would, the bed smelled exactly like Noah, a mixture of sun-warmed bark and crushed sage.
Okay, time to sleep, Addie.
She closed her eyes, but the second she did, she heard the creak of floorboards like she was still in her house. It wasn’t real. It was in her head. But it felt real.
She scrunched her eyes, and this time she saw the shadow beside the house.
Stop thinking about it, Addie. It’s not going to help you.
She rolled to her side.
A few minutes later, she rolled to her other side.
It had to be close to an hour later before she finally drifted off to sleep.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sleeping when a sound woke her. At first, she wasn’t sure what it was. A voice maybe? A growl?
She lay still, waiting to hear it again. A few seconds passed and she wondered if maybe it had been in her head.
She was moments from closing her eyes again when a loud growl rippled through the house.
She shot up.
Noah.
Was someone out there with him? Had her stalker followed them to his home and broken into the house? No. He had an alarm. So what the heck was going on?
Quickly, she scrambled out of bed and ran down the hall—only to stop at the sight of Noah on the couch. His head swung back and forth, pain and rage melding together on his face to create an emotion so dark, she almost didn’t recognize him.
He was having a nightmare.
She inched closer, not sure what to do. It would be smartest to leave him. Let him wake from the dream in his own time.
He growled again, another scrunch of his face showing utter agony.
God. He was hurting. And she couldn’t physically force herself to step away. No part of her felt capable of that.
“Noah.”
Nothing. His head continued to move from side to side, his chest heaving, his breathing loud.
“Noah, wake up.”
It was like he couldn’t hear her. And it was getting worse. His growls were getting louder. The pain—Jesus, it just leached out of him.
His head flew back and for a moment, it looked like he wasn’t breathing. “Noah, you need to—”
“No!” The shout was loud and fierce, and in a split second he was standing and grasping her arms in such a tight grip that her muscles burned.
Pain pulsed beneath Noah’s skin, relentless and hot.
He hurt. Everything fucking hurt. His wrists from the chains breaking his skin. His cracked ribs from the boots pounding into him. And his head…Jesus, it pounded. A mixture of beatings and dehydration and exhaustion.
He tried to peel his eyes open, but one was so swollen it wouldn’t budge.
The darkness…fuck, it was everywhere. It was all he’d seen for days. He could just make out the concrete walls. Then there was the cold, but he’d kind of gotten used to that. Hell, he almost welcomed it because it eased the burning heat of his injuries.
It was the smell that really fucking hit him. The mixture of blood and sweat and this stagnant air that made him want to be sick.
Dizziness spun the world around him, and he lowered his head to his chest, but the chains connecting him to the wall refused to let his hands drop.
He was in the depths of hell and his captors knew it. Had designed this place to be hell.
The assholes had tried to break him. They hadn’t. And they wouldn’t. They wouldn’t get a single piece of intel from him about his unit or their allied forces.
He just had to survive until the rescue team came. Because they would come. And if he cracked before then, he was as good as dead anyway.
He sucked in a lungful of air, which made the ache in his ribs cascade through his body.
His mind flicked to Jay, and the pain suddenly turned to rage.
Dead. Jay was dead. Killed in the ambush.
It still didn’t feel real. But that bullet that hit Jay in the skull had played over in Noah’s mind again and again.
Even though they’d been in the middle of a fucking ambush, time had felt like it stopped.
Noah had felt paralyzed. It was only Boone pulling him into the irrigation shed that had saved him from the same fate.
But that hadn’t been the salvation either of them had hoped for.
A new wave of fury rolled through him at the memory of the stun grenade. At waking up here in the depths of hell.
He tugged at the binds around his wrists, not caring that his skin was red and raw.
Where was Boone? What had they done with him? No one would tell him.
Another wave of dizziness swamped him, almost dragging him back under, but he forced his eyes to remain open.
Survive. That was his goal.
The creak of the door opening had his head shooting up.
Then the already dark world blackened further.
Boone.
He looked like he’d already gone through the same torture yet was still fighting the assholes who stood on either side of him. The second he looked up at Noah, they both knew what was about to happen…they were going to be pitted against each other. But only one of them would make it out alive.
Make it Boone. He wanted to die so that Boone could live.
A man came to stand between them. He was the only one in this godforsaken place who spoke English. The fucker who’d been trying to get information from Noah before he lost consciousness.
The asshole looked at him. “It’s time for you to speak, soldier.”
No. They’d chosen to try to crack Noah…which meant Boone was the one who wouldn’t make it.
“He’s not telling you shit,” Boone spat. “So you may as well kill me now.”
He punched Boone in the face.
Noah growled and pulled against the chains, not feeling the pain in his wrists anymore. “I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill all of you.”
The guy laughed before turning to one of his men and nodding. The blows hit Boone hard and fast. And all Noah could do was watch. He couldn’t give them the information they needed. As a Marine, he had a code of honor and duty. He was trained to never compromise a mission or their unit.
But even if he wasn’t, giving these assholes information wouldn’t save Boone. It would just kill him faster.
Even though he was chained to a damn wall, he fought. He tugged and growled, the burns and aches gone, his body now numb.
The guy in front of him raised a brow. “Noah, you need to—”
“No!” Noah lunged, wanting to tear the fucker apart. The chains suddenly disappeared, and he grabbed the guy by the arms. But it was wrong. His arms were too slim. His skin too soft.
The room suddenly changed. It wasn’t cold or made of concrete. The floor wasn’t hard. The person beneath him wasn’t one of the assholes who took him.
It was Addie.
He was home, in Amber Ridge, and he’d been a second away from hurting Addie—again.
He released her and jumped back, the space between them too small. “Addie, I’m…”
“I know.” Her soft voice was gentler than he deserved. He wanted her to fucking rage at him. Tell him what a scumbag he was.
“Are you okay?” she whispered.
What kind of question was that? He’d scared her. He’d grabbed her. Probably bruised her.
“I’m fine,” she repeated before tilting her head. “Now I need to know if you are.”
He shook his head, his fingers running through his hair, pulling at the damn roots. He wasn’t close to fine. He didn’t even know what fine felt like anymore. “You shouldn’t be around me.”
“I’m not scared of you, Noah.”
“I could have hurt you, Addison.”
“But you didn’t. You pulled yourself back to reality.”
Reality. What even was reality anymore? Every time those dark memories pulled him in, they felt real. Like he was there again. He could smell that place. Feel the cold on his skin.
Shit, he needed to get out of there.
“Do you want me to call Jesse?” Noah asked.
She frowned like the idea was absurd. “No. I’m not pressing charges, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You should.”
That frown on her face deepened. “Noah—” She stepped toward him and he leapt back.
“I’m going to go.”
Before she could respond, he was moving.
“This is your house,” she said, following. “I’ll go.”
“No. I have a good security system. Lock the doors after me and turn the alarm on once I’m out. I’ll text you the details. I’ll also call Jesse and get him to put a deputy on the house.” He went to his room, grabbed a bag, and packed his shit. He’d go to Indie and Colt’s for the rest of the night.
“Noah, don’t do this. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gotten close to you. It’s the middle of the night.”
He lifted the bag and moved toward the front door. In the hall, he pulled out a spare key from a drawer and set it on the table. “Lock up in the morning when you leave. I’ll wait until there’s someone outside so you won’t be unprotected.”
Then he stepped out of the house, guilt so heavy on his shoulders, his knees almost caved from the weight of it.
He’d done it again. She hadn’t even touched him this time, yet he’d almost hurt her. And there was nothing about that fact that felt forgivable.