Page 73 of Ricochet

Her head tipped to the side. “Then, why are you keeping me?”

I stared down at the smeared blood that’d dried over the palm of my hand. “Because I can’t let you go yet.”

I couldn’t even say why, and thankfully she didn’t ask. An urgency tugged at me to keep her, like a voice inside my head, telling me that the woman needed my help, whether she’d asked for it or not. That to let her go would ruin everything.

The same inner voice that uttered two words to change everything.

Save her.

CHAPTER 31

Nick

Rain tapped against the Mustang’s windshield, as I pulled up to the empty lot where my house had once stood. Wasn’t even five in the morning, which meant the block was quiet, dark, just as it’d always been each time I’d visited my wife and son.

I slid out of the driver’s seat and strolled up to the charred remains of my home. Rotted, blackened wood lay piled over crumbled bricks and cinder blocks. Because no one had called the fire station, it’d burned right down to the ground and took the abandoned house next door along with it. Scrappers, no doubt, had stolen all the pipes and metal. One of the toilets had been propped in the center of the destruction with ‘shithole’ written around the rim of it.

What was once my entire world had been reduced to rubble and ruin. Nothing more than a joke for trespassers.

Aubree sat in the car, as I rounded the Mustang. From the trunk, I grabbed the shovel before making my way beyond the wreckage to the Willow tree in back. It’d been little more than a sapling when we bought the house almost eight years before, and had grown into a majestic tree that stood what must’ve been thirty feet tall. Jay had loved to hang out beneath its drooping branches, and often hid away there most of the day with Blue, playing in its fragile, swaying limbs. I slammed the shovel at the base of the tree, digging up the grass that’d grown there. The October rain was cold as fuck and my hands numbed as I toiled.

A shine caught my eye in the moon’s light.

Crouching to the ground, I sifted through loose dirt. Lifting the small truck, one of Jay’s I’d unearthed, I squeezed my eyes shut to hold back the tears.

Get it together. He’s not here.

I returned to the car and opened the back, sliding Blue into my arms. As I carried him to the gravesite, the door slammed behind me, and I turned to see Aubree jogging over, her hair already wet with rain.

She stopped just short of us. “I’m sorry, if you need to be alone I can …”

“You’ll be soaking wet.”

“I’m fine.”

We reached the gravesite, which had turned soppy with mud. Lowering down on one knee, I set Blue inside the hole I’d dug and stroked his damp coat. “Catch you on the other side, buddy.”

Aubree knelt down beside me, petting him behind his collar. “Thank you,” she whispered, and stood beside the grave as I pushed the dirt over with the shovel.

As soaked by the rain as I was, Aubree stood shivering, teeth chattering, while I finished burying Blue, but she never once complained of cold or my reluctant pace. Back inside the Mustang, I cranked the heat up and my gaze landed on the goose bumps broken out across her legs as I fired up the vehicle and headed back toward the mansion.

Little was said along the way, until we’d finally arrived home. The rain had intensified, and we jogged to the overhang at the front of the house. I opened the door, and once we’d stepped inside, she removed her coat.

Like I was a goddamn lion fixated on my next meal, my mouth watered at the sight of her—wet and shivering inside the darkened house.

Her boots glistened with water, the dress she’d worn so saturated, it clung to her body, giving a good peek at her lace bra beneath. The sight made me ravenous, thirsty for the water dripping from her neck to between her breasts.

Christ, she wasn’t even trying to be sexy, and I somehow couldn’t shake the urge to touch her, to have those wet thighs straddling me while I fucked her against the wall, right there in the foyer.

I slipped past her before I risked doing something stupid and made my way toward the kitchen, desperate for a drink. Nabbing the whiskey on the counter, I took a long swig, and when I set it down, caught sight of Aubree standing in the doorway.

“Can I have some of that?” She sauntered across the room until standing at arm’s length from me.

In spite of the bruise on her cheek, I stood mesmerized by her wet hair, the shine of her skin, those pert breasts peeking through her dress.

For fucks sake, I silently chastised myself. She’d almost been raped.

Squinting, I handed her the bottle of whiskey, and when she tipped it back, I studied the bobbing of her neck as the fluids slipped down her throat. My eyes trailed down to her dress and the silhouette of her curves that showed even in the dim light of the room.