I stare at his profile. “Who was that?”
“Ash.”
We drive in silence for a while, our fingers intertwined, as Matteo rubs soothing circles over my hand. I’m still trying to process what happened, the gruesome scene on repeat in my head.
When his phone lights up with an incoming call, he nods toward it. “Could you answer that, please?”
“Uh, sure.” I swipe the screen, jolting back as Ash and Zeno appear on it. I guess we’re doing a video call.
The guys are wearing matching frowns, and Ash is the first to talk. “Hey, Gem. Are you okay?”
I nod. “I’m fine.”
Zeno’s frown deepens as he continues to stare at me.
Ash comes closer to the screen. “Is that blood on your face?”
“What?” My eyes widen, and my heartbeat picks up. I disentangle my hand from Matteo’s and yank down the sun visor to stare at the mirror. Crap. I do have blood on my face. Just as I try to wipe at it, I see the smears on my hands too. I turn to Matteo and glare a hole in the side of his head. He could have at least told me I look like this.
“Did you see anyone, Gem?” Ash asks the question, and I focus back on the screen.
Sighing, I shake my head. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t have gone outside if I had. I peeked out the window first, and there wasn’t anyone.”
Remembering the small black bunny on the ground brings back the heaviness in my chest. New moisture builds in my eyes, and I swallow several times until the sensation subsides. I’d rather not cry in front of these guys.
Closing my eyes, I turn my head to the right.
The guys talk for another minute, before hanging up, and then it’s just Matteo and me again.
He brushes my arm when he reaches behind my seat to get a blanket. “Here. Why don’t you try and sleep?”
I don’t think I’ll be able to but nod anyway.
The next time I open my eyes, we’re driving into the same underground garage as last month after the shooting at the bar. It feels like a lifetime ago. Matteo parks in his spot, and I yawn so much, my eyes tear up.
“Hey.” Matteo caresses his thumb over my cheek, and I automatically lean into his touch. “Let’s go upstairs and get you cleaned up.”
“Okay.” My voice is scratchy, my throat dry.
“Thirsty?”
“Yes.”
He cradles my cheeks in both of his hands and presses his lips against mine, staying there for one, two, three seconds. Then he gets out of the car and comes around to open my door for me. I take his hand and climb out, then together, we walk to the elevator that leads us straight into his penthouse. Once the security door closes behind us, I let out an unsteady breath.
You’re okay. You’re safe now.
At least until you have to go home.
Matteo pulls me down the long hallway toward his bedroom and into the large en suite. The last time I was here, I was in the makeshift patient bedroom. I don’t have the energy to pay much attention to my surroundings; it’s something I can explore at a later time.
In the bathroom, Matteo leads me to a chair that’s against the wall and faces me. “Are you okay by yourself? I just want to grab a trash bag for your clothes and some water.”
I nod, and he squeezes my hand before leaving. Taking advantage of being alone, I use the toilet, and Matteo walks back in just as I’m stepping out of my sneakers. He hands me a water bottle, and I guzzle it down all at once.
Matteo walks to the shower and turns it on. “Let’s get you under the water.”
My knees are still slightly wobbly, but I manage to take off my socks while still standing. I don’t want to get any bloodstains on the chair; it’s bad enough that I probably made a mess of the car.