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Gideon cupped the back of my head and pulled me close. A sob lodged in my throat and my eyes burned with the threat of tears. After years of being beaten, I never cried in front of people, and I had no idea why I was close to bawling like a baby now. I curled my fingers into his vest, fighting the revulsion when I felt his sticky blood on the leather.
This is my fault. I stayed too long. I should have known better.
“Go,” Gideon said, taking me by the arm. “Hide in the bathroom. Lock the door. Call one of the club members—anyone who will answer at this hour. Let them know what happened. Don’t come out unless I say so. Is that clear?”
He pressed his phone into my hand and pushed me toward the guest bathroom. I sputtered in protest.
“What about you? What are you going to do?”
Gideon said nothing, but his grip flexed on his gun. That was enough of an answer. I felt sick to my stomach.
“Gideon, no. You can’t go out there.”
He pried my fingers away from his vest, turned, and vanished down the hall. I clutched his phone with trembling hands. This man had been good to me. Protected me. He wouldn’t even have sex with me because it wasn’t the right thing to do, tainted with a morally gray area of obligation that he wouldn’t touch.
My vision blurred. My throat grew tight. When I glanced down at his phone, I realized my fingertips were smudged with blood. His blood.
Moving on autopilot, I locked myself into the bathroom and sank to the floor. With my knees pulled up to my chest, I shakily punched at buttons on Gideon’s phone until I found his contact list. Kingpin was at the top.
The phone rang and rang.
“Come on,” I hissed. “Pick up.”
At last, Kingpin’s voice came over the line.
“Aren’t you usually in bed by now, Big G? Or is that feisty little stray you took home keeping you awake?”
“Gideon was shot,” I said, my voice strained.
He turned serious in an instant.
“Liss? Where are you?”
“Gideon’s house.”
A gunshot cracked in the silence. I flinched and clamped my hand over my other ear.
“Please,” I said. “He needs help. He’s out there alone and I just—I can’t—”
“Hang tight, Liss,” Kingpin replied. “We’re on our way.”
I gripped Gideon’s phone, my ears straining for any sound that might provide a clue about what was happening. I should go find him instead of cowering in the bathroom. This was my mess, my problem, not Gideon’s.
The silence stretched on and on. I couldn’t decide if that was a good sign or not. Was it better that the shooting stopped? Or did that mean Gideon wasn’t fighting back anymore?
My hand flew to my ankle where my knife should be. Barefoot. Fuck. I’d left my boots by the bed where I’d kicked them off earlier to take a shower. And then I’d paraded around in front of Gideon in that damn towel like an idiot.
“Stupid,” I muttered to myself.
A rookie mistake. I always had my knife within reach, whether I was showering or sleeping or eating. Why did I leave it in the other room?
Because of Gideon. He made me feel safe.
I pushed to my feet, wavering for a moment. Gideon told me to stay put, behind a locked door.
Don’t come out unless I say so. Is that clear?
Well, too bad. He should know by now that I’m not a good girl. I don’t follow orders.
