Run, Dom! Run!
My entire body trembles from the anxiety that rushes through my veins, the adrenaline fueling my legs.
“Help! Somebody help me!” I yell at the top of my lungs.
CHAPTER 31
Roderick
I called Dom a few times on my way to her studio, but she didn’t pick up. It doesn’t matter because I’m not too far.
She gets so lost in her work.
As I zoom down LA’s streets, I flash back to the shocking headlines Holt texted us. I still can’t believe the accusations. The allegations of sexual misconduct seem so out of character. Gideon a rapist? No way.
I turn into the parking lot to my studio and slowly drive the short distance to Dom’s. I pride myself for having insisted she rig the area with cameras. This is a fairly isolated part of LA at night since the buildings surrounding us are all old warehouses converted into offices and studios. It’s a different story during the day, but most everyone is home or out partying this late on a Friday night. You can never be too safe.
As I approach her studio, I’m baffled by what I see. A large window is completely smashed in by a car.
“Whoa.”
Since the driver’s door to the vehicle is still open, I assume whoever caused this accident is inside the building.
I hope no one is hurt.
I park diagonally, get out of my car and hurry to Dom’s studio. I don’t bother closing my own door. I take in the scene, baffled, my eyes darting around the space, searching for answers.
Holy shit. There’s glass everywhere.
“Dom?” I shout, rushing inside to make sure she’s okay.
“Help! Somebody help me!” Dom screams.
She emerges from the kitchen. Her top is ripped and her breasts are exposed.
What the hell?
Everything happens so fast, I don’t have time to process any of it.
“Rod! Help me! Help me!”
Her scream takes ten years off my life.
Jesus.
She comes crashing into me. I catch her.
I grip my hands around her shoulders and practically shake the hell out of her, demanding an explanation, “Dom, what’s going on?”
“Help me! Please, help me!” she yells louder. “Don’t let him hurt me again.”
She’s crying so hard, I barely recognize her beautiful face.
“Who is in there?”
Instead of answering, she wriggles out of my grasp and runs to hide behind me. I feel her shaking against my back. Instinctively, I adopt a fighter’s stance, ready to protect her from whoever she’s running from. This is one time I regret not being a gun owner.
“Come back here, you filthy whore!” a familiar voice yells. I look up and stare into Gideon’s eyes. His jaw is bloodied.
