My heart is pounding, and my stomach is rolling as Roman escorts me through a back way out of the club to the private garage. As soon as Roman unlocks the car, I jump into the passenger seat and begin heaving strangled sobs.
I fucking hope Cash cares more about following me than killing that man. Because if not, it’s a life on the line and blood on my hands.
Roman and I are outside of my apartment, and I realize with a frustrated growl that I left my purse and key in Cash’s car. I pull out a bobby pin and begin whittling it into the lock when Roman gently pushes me to the side and uses a key of his own to unlock it.
“Of course, you’d have a key. Because why wouldn’t everyone have a key to my apartment,” I say with a delirious sort of laughter as he lets me into the apartment.
“I’ll wait out here.”
“Okay, and if he comes?”
Roman’s face gives nothing away, stoic and military-esque. I’d bet anything he was special forces at one point. “Fox told me to keep you safe, and if that’s from himself, then so be it.”
“What if he orders you to let him in?”
“Do you want him to come inside?” I shake my head, at least not right now. “Then I won’t let him in. Good night, Miss Harlow.” I take the dismissal for what it is and lock the door behind me.
My apartment feels all sorts of discombobulated after going through Beth’s room. Her items, which sat for so long untouched, treasured like she might just step back into her old life, are packed up and her personal flare sterilized. The crime tape which became a haunting memento is gone, and not to say I miss it, but it feels like something is missing with it gone.
And then the simple fact that I haven’t been living here for days and it no longer feels likehome.Cash’s apartment feels like home. And I hate him for that.
I hate the way he’s made me feel, like I’m not safe without him. Like I’m notwholewithout him. And I hate most of all that right now, when he’s the source of my pain, he’s the only one I want to take it away.
I curl my knees to my chest on the couch and stare at the black TV screen, my thoughts being drowned by the rising tide in my chest. This has to end.
It has to.
I’ve been shot at, held under guard, stalked and threatened by a serial killer, witnessed a man’s calf get blown out, and been adjacently responsible for how many deaths? All of that, and I’m still no closer to finding Beth’s actual killer. I rub the heels of my palms into my eyes with a frustrated groan.
I perk up when I hear Cash’s gruff voice from the hallway. “She inside?”
“I’m not letting you in until she says it's alright.”
I tiptoe closer to the door to hear Cash’s response. “You know, sometimes I wish you weren’t so good at your job.” I jump when he starts talking to me. “Harlow, I can hear you.”
“Did you kill him?” There’s a heavy pause, and I feel my knees weaken with the knowledge that another death is on my head.
“He deserved it,” Cash says through the door, and I clasp my hand to my mouth to cover the sound of my choked sob.
“But no, I didn’t kill him.” I suck in a deep breath of relief that stretches my lungs uncomfortably. “Listen, let Roman leave and we can talk about this privately.”
“Fine, but slide your key under the door.”
“Deal.” A flash of golden metal skitters across the floor.
“All of them,” I add, and another comes skating from under the door. “Alright. Good night, Roman. Thank you for tonight.”
“Night,” I hear him say as the sound of his footsteps fade down the hallway.
2Cash leans against the door and slides down to sit with his back pressed to it. I mirror his position on the opposite side and wait for the words to come to me.
How do I tell him he’s made me crazy? Bothforhim andbecauseof him? That being with him feels like living in both a dream and a nightmare?
I realize where my true hurt lies and start there. “It’s not that you almost killed a man, it’s that I told you to stop and you didn’t.”Christ, do I even hear myself?“And the fact that I can say that, that I don’t care you almost killed someone—that’s not me, Cash. I don’t belong in this world. I don’t know how to play by its rules and still be able to live with myself.”
I feel a nudge on my bottom and turn to see Cash’s fingers peek under the door. With a tight throat and tears pricking my eyes, I slide my hand on the floor to touch his fingertips. I hear Cash sigh and can imagine his stony eyes and flared nostrils as he clenches his jaw. But he doesn’t speak.
“And I know you can’t say that you got out of hand or it won’t happen again because—”