Chapter 12
twelve
. . .
Armin
I ran into the room and flung on the light. Mia’s shouts died down and her eyes opened wide. She’d flung all the blankets off her, fighting whoever she’d been screaming at in her dreams.
This was the second time I’d heard Mia scream. Every time it stopped my heart.
I crossed the room to be by her side, but she eyed me like I was the enemy.
“Are you okay? You were having a nightmare.” I’m an idiot for asking. She’s not okay. The sheets are soaked with sweat and her eyes are crazed with fear. If I put that little purple pistol in her hand, I’d say there was a fifty-fifty chance she’d’ve shot me on sight.
“Did you work with him, Armin? Did you work for Harvey?”
“No Mia, Jesus…no.” The accusation hits me low, though it’s not far-fetched: I’d never witnessed it for myself, but I’d heard half the cops in the county were in Harvey’s pocket.
After the Feds dismissed those property fraud charges of his last year, I couldn’t help but wonder how far Harvey’s reach extended past the borders of our little town.
Her eyes searched the room, still not really seeing. I sat lightly on the edge of the bed and put my hand to her head. She was burning up. “We have to go to the hospital. You have an awful fever.”
“We can’t,” she cried, clawing at my shirt. “When I leave here,” she said, dropping her voice low, “I have to go back to him.”
“No you don’t, Mia. You don’t have to. You can stay with me.” Forever, I wanted to say.
“I can’t go to the hospital. Don’t make me.” She swiveled her head around, panicked, looking for something that wasn’t here. “Promise you won’t.” Something or someone.
“Mia, I’ll pay for it. It’s not a problem.”
“It’s not the money. Don’t make me go there. I can’t, Armin.”
Mia collapsed against me, draping her arms around my waist. All the fear I felt for her, running fast through my veins, couldn’t stop the way my body reacted at her touch, the press of her against me.
She pulled me to her; her touch melted me.
I was powerless to deny it, to hold her at arm’s length.
Powerless, hell. I didn’t want to deny her. It was as simple as that.
She pressed her lips against mine, her tongue seeking and hot in my mouth.
It’s not real. But my cock stiffened all the same, even if her feelings were false, stoked by hallucination.
She pulled away as quickly, her eyes wide with shock.
She’s out of her mind, she’s having a fever dream.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know…” she trailed off.
“It’s okay,” I said, and she collapsed into my arms. “You’re safe here.
” She dug at my shirt until the buttons popped open so she could press her cheek against the bare skin of my chest. Her forehead was on fire, while her hands were icy cold.
I held her until her breathing evened out, sunk into unconsciousness once more.
I’d never been more conflicted, or more afraid. She needed to go to the hospital, but she’d begged me not to. I had to assume there was a good reason. No health insurance in her line of work. That was for damn sure. But no, that wasn’t it. It wasn’t just the money.
Maybe Harvey didn’t allow it.
Maybe she was wanted by the law.
And now she’d kissed me. All I’d ever wanted. More than, actually.
She’d done it in the throes of a feverish nightmare. She probably wouldn’t even remember it when she woke up. If she lived.
But I’d remember.
I lay her back down in bed, careful not to wake her, and pulled the blanket up around her.
I’d remember Mia’s lips on mine until the day I died. My heart ached to think she’d done it under duress, hallucinated the where and when of it all, confused me for an ex or some filthy client of hers.
There was only one thing I had zero doubt about.
I was going to kill Harvey Blagas.