Page 52 of Hunt You Down

“I can’t afford him.”

“I didn’t ask if you could afford him.” André’s voice was low and soothing. “You need help, and I want to give you the best you can possibly get.”

“What do we do now?”

André grabbed a washcloth from the side of the tub and wet it, pulling it over my shoulders and across my chest. The hot water dripped over my skin, soothing me more than I ever thought it would.

“I take care of you. Just like always.”

“You’ve already done so much more than I could ever ask of you.”

“And loving you just means I get to do it over and over again. As long as you’ll have me.”

André washed me, carefully, but it still hurt to have anything rub over my back. The plush washcloth felt like sandpaper.

“How are you not mad at me?” I finally asked.

“What would I be mad at you for?”

“Ruining your floors. Keeping things from you…”

“I’m not worried about the floors,” André reiterated, though it didn’t ease my nerves any. Regan would have had my head for something like that, and the fear was a hard thing to shake. “Making sure you’re taken care of right now is more important than me having my feelings hurt. I understand why you didn’t tell me. You were scared, and it’s my job right now to take care of you.”

André rinsed me off and let me soak in the hot water until the temperature dropped. For the first time in weeks, I was comfortable, and I didn’t want to move. André stayed put as well. He said he wasn’t going to get out until I was ready. I made it nearly half an hour before André offered to add some more hot water.

“I’d love that, but I should get out before I ruin all the work you did just now cleaning me up.”

I stood up and he helped me out of the tub, drained the water, and wrapped me in a towel.

“What about Regan?” I asked.

“You should call that detective. He knows your case, and he would know more of what to do than the local police would.”

“It’s federal now,” I mentioned. “He crossed state lines, which means other people get involved. This is going to be a lot.”

André dressed me in pajamas and handed me my phone. “I think I can handle it. Everything that happens from here on out is just his plan falling apart, and ours coming together.”

I stared at the phone he was offering me. I couldn’t bring myself to grab it. I could see what would happen if I did: police, so many police. Statements, pictures, possibly more court dates. But if I didn’t, we would never live a normal life. André would have to live his life with his boyfriend attached to his hip. It’s a bit less romantic with the threat. I didn’t want that for him.

Seeing that I wasn’t going to take it, André placed my phone on the bed. “I could call for you if you want me to, baby.”

“No… I can do it. Can you get me something to drink, please??”

“Sure.”

André left the room, and I scrolled my contacts with quivering hands. With each ring of the line, my heart thundered. I was risking my life, I was risking Dylan, and I was risking André. But Regan wouldn’t stop until he got to me.

The line connected. “Detective Steele.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

It only felt like a matter of minutes before local police swarmed the apartment and I was giving my statement. In that time, we were notified that the FBI had gotten involved.

In an effort to keep André distracted, I sent him to refill my drink. Unfortunately, I underestimated how long that would actually take, and he returned in the middle of my story. I was the only one who noticed the change in his demeanor—and the way he blinked back tears. Once the officer was finished, he crossed the room to hand me the drink.

“Is there anything I can do, baby?” he whispered, helping me back into my shirt.

“C-Can you call Dylan?” My throat hurt from so much talking, and my back was still no better. “I don’t think I can talk anymore.”