Page 74 of Collateral Damage
“What do you think is going to happen now, Reagan?”
He looks almost relieved I’ve asked him. “Now, you won’t have to do everything alone anymore,” he says gently. The words settle in my stomach like lead. “No more people pulling at you. No more hired security telling you where to go. No big house to maintain.”
A pause. The heavy silence of the snow outside makes the cabin feel as if we’re being buried alive.
“I’ve taken care of it all.”
Cold spreads through my chest. “What do you mean you’ve taken care of it?”
He studies me as if deciding how much I’m ready to hear. “All those things that keep pulling you away,” he says quietly. “Your job. Your house. People making demands on you.”
His expression softens. “I fixed the problem.”
The blood drains from my face, leaving my skin feeling tight and waxen. “What have you done?”
He smiles again. Gentle. Certain. “I made sure no one would take you away from me again.”
My pulse hammers in my throat, a frantic, trapped rhythm.
“You think cutting me off from everyone is going to make me want you in my life?” I lean forward, anger finally lashing through the paralysis. “I will never want you anywhere near me.”
His gentleness doesn't just fade; it vanishes. He moves faster than my eyes can track—a blur of motion that ends with his fingers clamped around my jaw. He doesn't strike me, but the pressure is agonizing, forcing my head back until the tendons in my neck feel like they’re going to snap.
He leans in, his face inches from mine, the smell of the cold storm still clinging to his jacket. His eyes are flat, devoid of the warmth he was faking only seconds ago.
"Gratitude, Ava," he whispers, the words vibrating against my skin. "I’m the only one who takes care of you. The only one who knows what you need."
He increases the pressure, his thumb digging into the bone beneath my ear until a white-hot spark of pain shoots through my skull. Then, just as abruptly, he releases me, shoving my head back toward the cushions.
His gaze lingers on my face. “Take off your glasses. I like it when you wear your contacts.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t…”
He smiles again and reaches into his pocket, withdrawing them. “See, Doc? I think of everything.”
I take them from his outstretched hands, swallowing as my fingers fumble. Does he really think I can?—
A harsh mechanical sputter tears through the thought. Remote, dampened by snowfall and walls, yet unmistakable.
An engine.
Oh, dear Lord, is that Silas? Please, Lord, please, let him be alive!
Reagan doesn’t react, he doesn’t curse, he merely takes a seat across from me, one ankle resting on his knee, studying me the way a chess player studies a board.
"Well," he murmurs as his hand moves toward the weapon beneath his jacket, the leather of his holster creaking in the sudden, sharp stillness. "This is most inconvenient. Either he’s crazy enough to risk a blizzard to escape, or he’s trying to lure me out.”
His eyes settle on me. “Which is it, Doc? Is he a coward or a cowboy?”
I square my shoulders. “Neither. He’s a gentleman and a warrior.”
Anger flickers across his face, and he makes the sound of a buzzer. “Wrong answer. Who is he exactly? He’s trained. I want to know how well before I go check. And think real careful about lying to me.”
I don’t get a chance to lie. I’ve barely breathed when the windows rattle and the floorboards tremble beneath my feet.
My hands go to the armrests before I understand why. An enormous roar slams into the cabin. Reagan is already at the window before I can even process what happened.
“Ouch. Looks like he crashed and burned,” he says, looking over his shoulder at me and smiling. “Though I do hate uncertainty.”
