Page 51 of Hard to Hold
Amy looked up into his face, her eyes wide, that same terror I had seen before present and accounted for.
I watched as Rhys took the key from her hand and then turned toward the door. He still had his gun holstered on his hip, his badge clipped on his waistband. At this point, they were probably extensions of his body.
Putting my arm around Amy’s shoulders, I started walking, urging her to the porch behind Rhys. Although I tried to hide it, the tension in my body was coiling tighter, only this time it had nothing to do with the kiss and everything to do with whatever was terrifying her. I'd noticed her hesitance to go inside earlier when I'd dropped her off, but I hadn’t thought much of it when it was broad daylight.
Rhys disappeared inside the house, and the lights clicked on one at a time as he moved through it.
“I’m sorry,” Amy whispered.
“Don’t be,” I told her. I wanted to know what or who she was scared of, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask. I needed her to tell me when she was ready.
“All clear,” Rhys informed us when we stepped into the house.
“We’ll wait on the porch,” I said, turning and stepping back outside.
Rhys joined me, closing the front door behind him.
Our eyes met in the darkness, the only light coming from the full moon.
“What the fuck was that about?” he whispered, his eyes searching my face.
“No fuckin’ idea.”
“She was scared to go in her own damn house.”
I nodded. I'd seen it with my own two eyes.
Rhys turned and leaned against the porch railing, crossing his arms over his chest. “No wonder she always looks so damn tired. Hell, I’d be shocked if she sleeps a few hours a night.”
I was thinking the same thing as I stared out at the surrounding area. The land adjacent to the small farmhouse was mostly flat, very little to conceal anything. Only a few trees stood off in the distance. If anyone came up to the house, Amy would be able to see them.
“She’s from Houston,” I told him, keeping my voice low.
“Houston?”
“Yeah. That’s all she told me and I don’t think she meant to tell me that much.”
“Well, it’s a start.”
I turned and stared at Rhys. “I don’t want you lookin’ into her.”
Shaking his head, Rhys looked away. “I won’t.” He met my gaze again. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t look into what might’ve happened to her.”
I got that. I hoped he didn’t have to do any digging. I wanted Amy to tell us her story herself. She was opening up. Slowly but surely. I figured it was only a matter of time.
The door opened behind us.
Rhys stood tall, his arms falling to his sides, a smile replacing his frown. “Ready?”
I turned around as Amy stepped out of the house. She was wearing a pair of short denim shorts, a tank top with a thin plaid shirt over it, and a pair of boots on her feet.
Lord have mercy.
Was the woman trying to kill me?
“Yeah,” she said sweetly, locking the door behind her and tucking the key into her pocket.
“We’ll take my truck,” I informed them, waiting for Amy to move in front of me.
