Chapter 19
You’ll see.
Ben
I’m early, but I know once I see her, we’re not going to make our reservation. I promised myself I’d try to keep my hands off her until later, but I don’t see that happening.
Wipe my palms on my pants and open the back door. When I look up the staircase, I feel it in my gut. Something is terribly wrong.
“Annie!” I reach the landing and put my boot to the door. It splinters open, and what I see turns my stomach, fills me with fury, and, for the first time in about five years, with fear.
She’s sitting on the floor, and aside from a faint red mark on her forehead, she appears uninjured.
Everything else in sight, though, is annihilated and ripped to shreds.
“What the fuck?” Every fiber of my being becomes possessed with rage like never before.
I crouch down in front of her and will never forget the look on her face. “Annie, sweetheart.”
“It was like this when I got home.” She’s looking right at me, but the Annie I know is gone. “It wasn’t Vito, was it?”
My eyes sweep her space and shake my head when I see whore on the tall mirror drilled into the brick wall. No. It wasn’t Vito. I knew it. I fucking knew it.
Everyone told me she was safe, but they were wrong.
And now she’s injured. Again.
“How bad are you hurt?” I bring my hand up to the bump on her forehead, but she swats my arm away, and Joan Wick hisses and darts off.
“I’m fine.”
God-fucking-dammit. “I’m gonna take care of this. I promise.”
“They found me.”
This is because of me, this is my fault. “You’re safe.”
“No, I’m not. They found me.”
I clench my jaw, so motherfucking pissed at myself. “I don’t know who did this, but I’m going to find out.” Although I have a pretty good fucking idea. “Let’s get you out of here so I can get started on that, okay?”
“Whatever.”
I lift her into my arms, and she’s like a rag doll. “Hold on.”
She puts her arms around my neck and buries her face in my throat. I take another look around and shut the door so Joan Wick doesn’t get out, then carry Annie down the stairs.
We’re in and out of the Explorer in minutes. She doesn’t argue with me about walking on her own and lets me carry her to my apartment. I lay her on my couch, and she doesn’t fight to sit up or insist she’s fine. She doesn’t push me away when I set an ice pack on her head, either.
“I need to make a couple of calls.”
“Fine.”
My first one is to Parker. He answers on the first ring. “Wha—”
“Park.” Even I can hear the ire in that one syllable.
“Talk to me.”
“Where are you?”
The background noise on his end fades. “Where do you need me to be?”
“Annie’s place was tossed.”
I hear him running. “I’m leaving the bar. I’ll be right there.”
“No. We’re upstairs. Come here first.” I hang up, then call Fitz and tell him the same thing, adding, “I don’t care what it costs to get me the proof I need, Fitzy. Any blowback will be on me, so do whatever the fuck you have to.”
“On it.”
I’m throwing a blanket over Annie when Parker walks in and does a double take. “Jesus. You okay?” he asks, leaning over the couch.
“I’m fine.”
“What happened?”
She squints an eye open and looks from him to me, then groans as she pulls the blanket over her head. “I came home, saw everything I own destroyed, tripped, then fell and hit my head. Seriously, I’m fine.”
Parker grits his teeth. “You see anyone, Annie?”
“Nope.”
“How’d they get in?”
“Fire escape window was smashed.”
Annie sucks in a breath. I know what she’s thinking, but my gut is telling me this is a different motive than what happened at her apartment. It’s jealousy, rage. Not obsession.
I jerk my chin at my brother, and he leaves us alone. “I’m gonna go downstairs and talk to Parker, okay. I’ll be back in just a couple of minutes.”
“Whatever.”
She’s docile, and she’s never docile with me. I fucking hate it. “Be right back.” I tug the blanket down and brush my lips over hers.
Parker’s in the alley, and as soon as I charge through the door, he says, “I know what that look on your face says, and trust me, bro, I’m thinking the same thing.”
“Nah, trust me. You are not thinking the same thing as I am.” I clench my jaw, my fist, and I look around for something to punch, but I’m surrounded by brick and steel.
“Breaking your hand won’t help anything, so pull your shit together and talk to me.”
“It’s gotta be Poe. He wrote whore on her mirror. He’s pissed she left him.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Why else would he do that? He tossed her place to let me know he got to her. He’s playing fucking games.”
He sucks his teeth. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I feel like writing whore on someone’s mirror is something a jealous woman would do.”
I rub my hands down my face. “Fuck. It was Tara.” I should have thought about that. I’m not ruling Poe out yet.
“That’s my guess.”
“Annie doesn’t need this shit. She’s been through enough. That fuckin’ bitch better hope I don’t find her first.”
“You’re not gonna hurt her.”
“She wanted my attention, and she got it, Park. I’m not gonna lay my hands on her, but I am going to hurt her.”
“Okay, then. Go check on Annie before you do something you’re gonna regret. I’ll rope Fitz in and—”
I slash my hand through the air. “I already did that. I need to know what you guys find the second you find it. Don’t fuckin’ keep me in the dark about shit because you think I’m gonna go off on an impulsive, half-cocked spree of vengeance, understand?”
“I hear you.”
“I need to be with her. When you get a chance, can you go get her cat? The carrier is in the closet across from the mirror that has whore written on it in bright red lipstick.”