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“Shit, I’m sorry,” she heard him say. “I just lost it for a second. Come here, let me—”
When the oxygen finally returned to her brain and she came to, she slapped him away. She tried to scream, to shout at him to leave but nothing came out. Instead, she shoved and kicked and grunted, resisting his advances like a wild animal until he got the message. With a look one might give to a misbehaving child, he tucked her mess of hair behind her ear, then stood.
“It’s you and me, Lex. It’s always been you and me. Don’t forget that.” He paused at the front door. “I’ll kill him. If you make me.”
She registered him leave. Heard his boots descending the patio stairs and his car starting. Instead of slamming the door behind him and calling the police, Lexie curled into a ball, right there on the floor of her home, and wept.
Nico had just switched off the light and collapsed into bed when his phone vibrated on the nightstand. Sighing, he sat up and read the message.
I’m sorry but I can’t do this. I’ve loved spending time with you but it has to end here. I wish nothing but the best for you, Nico. Be happy. Lexie.
What the fuck?
Nico’s radar went on full alert. Something was wrong, he could feel it.
Ignoring her words, he hit the call button. No answer. He tried again with the same result, then flew out of bed and stalked across the room to retrieve his clothes.
“Come on,” he mumbled, holding the phone pinched between his cheek and shoulder while shoving a leg into his jeans. “Talk to me.”
On the third try, he left a voicemail. “It’s me. Look, if you want to break things off before they begin, that’s your choice, and I’ll respect it. But not until you look me in the eye and say it to my face.”
He hung up and stood with his hands on his hips, staring at nothing as he contemplated what he should do. He could drive out to her house to find out what was going on, make a scene, possibly risk scaring Lexie away for good. Or . . .
Shit.
Or he could simmer down, wait it out, and go see her tomorrow. As much as it scraped against the grain of his rash tendency to act first and think later, he knew with a small shred of sense that it was the better option.
Whatever the reason for her message, there was no way he’d let her go this easily, not after what had happened between them tonight. That kiss had not been one-sided. He could tell she’d wanted it as much as he had. So, what changed? And why did he care so much? Christ, this wasn’t the plan. Getting emotionally attached was not supposed to happen. If he had half a brain, he’d realize that she was doing him a favor by backing away. All this time, he’d been convincing himself to keep her—keep everyone—at arm’s length. And yet here he was, ready to jump in his car half-naked in the middle of the night to get to her, all because of a silly little text message.
Enough, he told himself. That’s enough.
It was time to get his head back in the game where it belonged. He had a job to do. A killer to catch. A town to protect. And no business sniffing around Lexie Bowen as a potential lover—tempting as the idea might be.
She wanted out. He had no reason to argue the point.
So that would be the end of it.
With a resigned sigh, Nico shucked his jeans once again and tried to go to sleep.
His gut churned all night.
Chapter twelve
“That’s it, he’s dead,” Annie growled, her voice as vicious as Lexie had ever heard it. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Easy, babe,” Paul warned, resting a placating hand on her shoulder.
Lexie sat across the breakfast table from them both, cradling the coffee Paul had just poured her while she relayed—in the shortest and least detailed way possible—what had happened with Kyle the night before. Now, in the appalled silence that followed, she couldn’t look either of them in the eye.
That morning, Lexie had woken with a familiar heaviness she hadn’t felt in a long time. A dark cloud had descended upon her, and as she applied her makeup in the mirror, hating the sight of Kyle’s bruises on her body, it was all she could do not to break down and cry. Funny, they’d gone their entire marriage—rocky as it was—without him ever laying a hand on her, to this. And if he could do this after she’d moved out and they were on the verge of a divorce, where did it end?
“Why didn’t you call me?” Annie demanded. “I could have come to get you last night.”
“There wouldn’t have been any point,” Lexie answered wearily. “He was already gone.”
“Still, you shouldn’t have spent the night alone. What if he’d decided to come back? Jesus, Lex, you could be dead right now. Did you even think about that?”
Yes, she had. The strange thing was, at the time, she was in such a daze that she hardly cared. Just like she didn’t care about Annie berating her now. It was like she was in a dream. A silent witness to her own life, everything moving a little slower than normal, sounds muffled, barely penetrating her consciousness.
