Page 62 of The Rebel Billionaire

The implications of the note in my mailbox and my hair in the envelope hit me like a freight train, hard and fast, stealing my breath and sending my headspinning.

My vision blurred. My heart raced in mychest.

I had to move. I had to dosomething.

My hands still protected by the grocery bag, I shoved the card back in the envelope and dropped the envelope inthebag.

Carefully, I closed the mailbox door, giving it an extra push to make sure it was shut. Nausea lurched and rolled in my stomach. My skin prickled with goosebumps. Cold sweat froze myspine.

Striding across the lawn, I was fairly sure I was going to throw up. I heard my name called out behind me. I didn't slow down. I raced up the steps and through the front door, slamming and locking itbehindme.

Vaguely, as if at a great distance, I heard the thump of feet on wood and a banging on the door. I would deal with that later. I'd deal with everythinglater.

The grocery bag with the note fell from nerveless fingers to the floor in the hall. I went to my knees in front of the toilet, braced my arm on the cold seat, andvomited.

There wasn't much in my stomach. I hadn't eaten since my bowl of yogurt and granola at breakfast. That didn't stop my body from heaving. Over and over, the sour taste of bile filled my mouth. I spit into the toilet, flushed, and threw up again, shaking and gasping forbreath.

I needed to get ittogether.

Needed to think about what todonext.

Thoughts flitted around in my brain, unfocused and drenched in fear. Every time I thought about the note and what it meant, my torso curled over the toilet and I heavedagain.

"Jesus Christ, Princess, whatthefuck?"

A big hand settled between my shoulder blades, warmth chasing off the chill of sweat coatingmybody.

"What happened, Charlie? What is it? Talktome."

Lucas sounded frantic. I had to answer him. I had to get it together before he reallyfreakedout.

I was fine. It was just a stupid note. Why was I more upset by that than someoneattackingme?

I knew the answer already. Because the attack could've been random. People got mugged every day. The note proved it wasanythingbut.

I braced my arm on the front of the toilet seat, rested my forehead on my wrist, and pointed with my other hand at the grocery bag inthehall.

Lucas rose, taking his heat with him. Plastic rustled. He swore under his breath. His phone beeped. A few seconds later, hespoke.

"Brennan. I'm at Charlie's." A pause. "No, but she got a note. A threat. No, she was smart. Wrapped it up and didn't touch it. Can you . . . yeah, we'llbehere."

He was behind me again, rubbing his big warm hand up and down my spine. I relaxed, knowing he was there. Lucas was a wall between me and the rest of theworld.

As long as he was at my back, nothing bad could happentome.

"Brennan will be here in fifteen. Can youstandup?"

I nodded and tried to get to my feet. Lucas's arm came around me, lifting me. He reached past me and turned on the shower. "Let's get you warmedup,okay?"

Impersonally efficient, he stripped off my T-shirt and jeans, focused only on getting me in theshower.

I would've stumbled if he hadn't been there, steadying me, guiding me. When I was under the warm spray, he drew back, saying, "I'll get you some dryclothes."

I tipped my face back under the shower, letting the hot water rinse away the cold sweat of panic, the stink of fear. The water stung the raw skin on my cheek and temple, but the penetrating heat was worth alittlepain.

I flipped open my tube of body wash and took a deep sniff, letting the smell of fruit and flowers soothe me. Mechanically, I washed my hair and my body, then stepped out of the shower, dried off, and smoothed lotion overmyskin.

Squeezing out an extra-large glop of toothpaste to brush my teeth, I scrubbed every nook and cranny of my mouth to get rid of the taste ofvomit.