“I can’t go to the airport.”
Brennan studied her eyes, his brow still tensed, and something upsetting was there. He might not have remembered much of the evening they were still currently in, but he remembered every upsetting puzzle piece she’d given him over the course of the not-quite two days he’d been with her. He was starting to see that she was not at all the carefree, happy person she’d presented to him the moment she’d first grabbed his hand and turned her beguiling blue eyes up to his face.
Skye was in trouble; probably a lot more trouble than he’d gathered from her numerous bruises. He might have been drunk as fuck, but that much was clear.
“Honey, I know you’re running from someone. I can help you.” The breeze picked up a wisp of her hair, and he tucked it behind her ear. “Please let me help you. Tell me what’s going on. I promise whatever it is isn’t going to shock me or freak me out.”
“I just…” She shook her head and avoided his gaze. “I can’t, Brennan. I’m sorry.” She looked at him again. “If you really want to help me, you’ll give me a ride out of town tomorrow, and you won’t ask me why or where I’m going.”
“If you don’t tell me anything, how am I supposed to know if you’re going to be okay?”
Her crystalline blue eyes narrowed to incredulous slits. “Brennan, you were never going to know if I was going to be okay. This doesn’t change that. You weren’t worried about it before.”
“I didn’t know you were in trouble before, and I’ll admit I probably didn’t care at first, but…” His mouth needed a fucking filter, but any semblance of one was gone with the wind. “I carenow. I know you’re in troublenow. I don’t know anything about you other than your first name and that someone hurt you. How am I supposed to know you’re going to be okay? You want to talk about shit we’ll never forget? I’ll never forget that I’m worried about you. I’ll never forget that there’s someone I care about somewhere in the world, and that I’ll never know if she’s okay. You gotta give me something, Skye.”
She shook her head in a way that seemed like she was trying to buck off his hands, and she was a fucking brick wall. “I can’t. I’m sorry. It means everything to me that you care, but I just can’t, Brennan.”
He huffed. “Why not?”
“If I told you anything, you would be horrified, and you would hate me. I don’t want you to hate me. If you want to help me, give me a ride and let me go.”
Anxiety surged in Brennan’s chest, and he still had no filter. “I could never hate you, and I don’t want to let you go.”
Shut up, Brennan.
“I don’t want to let—” He shut himself up by capturing her mouth in a kiss, but his lips only underscored what he’d just let slip.
“You have to,” she murmured against his mouth, kissing him back. Hard. As if they were both silently pleading the opposite sides of a case with nothing but lips and tongues and desire that burned so hot it shut out the bitter chill in the air.
“Let me help you, sweetheart.” The kiss ended, but his lips still lingered next to hers. “I have unlimited resources. I can help you, Skye. Let me help you. I can keep you safe from whatever is going on if you’ll just let me.”
She pulled her face away, dipping it below her shoulders, and he rested his chin on top of her head. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted from anyone.”
Her words were so quiet that they were nearly inaudible, but it was clear.
And he’d get through to her. Somehow. He’d already partially gotten through to her because of the information she reluctantly offered, and he could get more out of her. It would just take a little finessing. But he’d get there. And then he’d—
Blunt, striking pain at the back of his head suddenly blacked out his vision.
There was a yelp and a woman’s scream.
He blinked and saw the sidewalk turned on its side.
Shards of pain shot through his brain, and blackness overtook his vision again.
Tires peeled out with a deafening screech.
He blinked again.
Something that felt like disembodied power caused him to push off the sidewalk, and he staggered. Long-suppressed, yet deeply-ingrained instinct to act despite pain and fear and disorientation came to life in his veins, and he assessed his surroundings.
Night.
Street lamps.
No Skye. No Skye. No Skye.
Taillights.
