He’s hurt, and I get it, but there’s more going on here. We’ll have to push past this another time.
He pulls out his phone to taunt me with his fake threat, so I do him one better. I whip out my phone and dial 911.
“Yeah, there’s a fire at North Gate Apartments, number twenty-three.” I hang up before they ask more questions.
His eyes pinch and then widen as I pull a matchbook from my pocket—something we’re required to keep on hand as Blaze. I strike it against the wall, lighting the entire pack at once. I toss it past him, onto the couch that happens to be covered in paperwork, and rush for his room.
I sweep Oakley up off the bed, squeezing her tighter when she starts to fight me.
We hit the hall, and she gasps at the familiar smell, frantically looking to find Rowan fighting to put out the flame that’s taken over a few of the cushions.
She screams, and he yells.
And I’m out the door.Chapter TwentyOakleyHe’s delusional.
I don't know what he expected after the shit storm I woke up to two mornings ago. To show up, tossing me over his damn body and forcing me back to my house, where his fucking wife was sound asleep in the bed I slept in only a day before.
Like a complete hypocrite, he berated me about my decision to take off, as if it wasn’t expected, warranted even, and basically locked me in my own room as if he had the right.
I let him. I didn’t fight, didn’t even utter a damn word.
It was the right move, because big bad Alec couldn’t mask – or didn’t care to – his emotions. Clear as day, fear shone in his treacherous stare and it disgusted me.
How could he possibly think, even for a second, I’d bend at his will or even entertain his thoughts or feelings?
Like I said, delusional, which is one of the many reasons I snuck off again the first chance I got.
I was dead on my feet when he found me at Rowan’s, but after his stunt, my body’s been riding on a wave of over-hyped endorphins. It’s night fall, I’ve been up a solid forty-eight hours, and I’m no closer to rest. I laid in my fluffy hotel bed for five hours, staring up at the pebbled ceiling and couldn’t even force my eyes closed.
With a sigh, I turn off the water and sit back. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. A stupid bath is the only thing I could think of to try and relax my mind. I need sleep and it won’t come.
I keep seeing flashes of my dad, creating scenario after scenario of what could have happened. Where I sit, I know nothing. I understand nothing and it has me drowning in helplessness, something I’m not used to. I hate it.
Just when the tension in my shoulders starts to fade into the scorching water... the fucking fire alarm goes off.
You have got to be kidding me.
The hotel room phone begins to ring and I listen as door after door in the hall is opened and shuffles of feet begin to file down the hall – so much for a corner suite, still hear everything around.
Kids are crying, parents are yelling, and the staff is attempting to calm and convince everyone this will be a safe and quick evacuation... from the fifteenth floor.
With a roll of my eyes, I lift the cheap champagne I found in my room to my lips and down a solid glass’ worth. I step out and drag myself to my bag I didn’t even get to unpack and toss my dirty clothes inside while pulling out a fresh pair of sweats and T-shirt.
I hear when the argument starts.
The poor little bellboy tells him, as nice and scared as can be, “Sir, you’re going the wrong way, you need to head downstairs until the fire department can get here and ... sir ... sir!”
And then my door’s kicked open and a raging, fuming, Alec Daniels stands in front of me, sweat dripping from his temples and all. Teeth bared, eyes bulging, he growls as he charges forward, but I cut him off before he can speak, my bag already slung over my shoulder.
“Save it.” I push past him out the door and surprisingly he lets me, but of course he stays on my heels.
No point in fighting. Clearly it wasn’t simply my being at Rowan’s that ticked him off, it was my being gone period.
We start down the stairs, single fucking file and slow as shit as we follow every other guest down the long ass line.
When we finally reach the first floor, I can actually smell the smoke and my eyes dart to Alec’s.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
He ignores me, gripping my arm to pull me through the door and toward his truck...that’s parked right in front of the exit.