Page 41 of From Hell
Fuck, he could.
He raises a brow. “Code now?”
“Fine.” The anger swirls like a storm inside my chest, but with it comes mounting fear; it sticks in my throat like the heavy taste of metal when I see his hands. Not the hands of a surgeon.
Bruised, bloodied knuckles.Did he fight with Christian after I screamed at him?
“One-eight, eight, eight,” I add after a beat. “What happened to your hands?”
His brows raise. “I was expecting six, six, six.” He ignores the comment about his hands.
The misty rain has started again, and I’m suddenly ice cold inside and out. I want to wrap my arms around myself and huddle away, but I refuse to look weak in front of Jaxon. If he punched Christian, then good. The bastard deserved it.
“Interesting choice of photography,” Jaxon says as he swipes through my phone and taps the keypad. The sound of the images deleting has my heart in tatters, filling me with prickling sorrow. Molly deserved better than this. At least I memorized some names. Jaxon can’t take that away from me. He can’t wipe my mind like he can electronic devices. I clench my teeth together to keep from chattering.
“Here.” He holds out my phone, crystalline gray eyes locked on mine. “All done.”
I snatch it out of his hand and shove it in my purse.
He gives me a narrowed look. “A thank you wouldn’t go amiss.”
I shake my head with a scoff. “You’re delusional.”
He shrugs. “That may be, but I’m trying to keep you alive. Sneaking around. Stealing from the Foundation isn’t something to be taken lightly. Here, you’re shivering.”
He slips off his jacket and holds it out to me.
I let out a harsh laugh. Is this guy for real? “Don’t fucking come near me,” I throw back at him, storming toward the house. I’m shaking like a leaf. I need to get out of the rain and away from Jaxon Clémont as far as possible.
His arm, solid and warm around my waist, yanks me back toward him. “Don’t walk away from me.” I struggle until he seethes, all hushed in my ear, “Keep struggling, and I’ll pick you up, carry you, and dump you in the trunk of my car. I’m not in the mood, Laine.” His words seem to penetrate deep, so I stop. “Good,” he soothes. “Now, you can sit up front.”
As Jaxon drives, my mind races, trying to make sense of everything. I was so close…so close to having the names of the men there that night Molly and I were attacked. My chest feels numb, and the space where my heart should be—empty.
“We’re here,” says a whiskey-smooth voice, interrupting my dark and disturbed thoughts. I blink my eyes, suddenly self-conscious that I’m digging my nails into his butter-soft leather seat, and look around. Jaxon has driven me home, but I don’t remember getting into the car, wearing his jacket, or the journey. I don’t remember telling him where I live.
“Thanks,” I mutter thickly, undoing the seatbelt and reaching for the door. The handle pulls, but the lock doesn’t disengage. I glance at Jaxon, but he doesn’t move to open it. I try it again, but no luck. “Er, I think the child safety lock is on?”
Jaxon looks at me, irises almost black in the car’s dim interior. He doesn’t say a word and stares at me with a look that makes my skin hot and my breath catch in my throat. Desire flares deep in my abdomen as he gives me a look I can only describe as feral, as though he might pounce at any moment.
What if he did?
I shift in my seat, glancing outside briefly. The sky is pitch black. No stars. Like it’s the end of the world, it sometimes gets still like this just before bad weather hits. I should get home.
I turn to my momentary captor. “Jaxon. The door?”
He’s looking at where my eyes were moments ago. “A storm is coming,” he states like he just read my mind. My teeth scrape over my lower lip, my heart somersaulting in my chest. “Try not to get caught in it like last time,” he adds with a curve to his lips. I stare at him, rooted to the spot, as unease washes over me.
What did he mean by that?
He disengages the lock, though I barely hear it. It takes my brain a few seconds to understand that he’s waiting for me to leave. I climb out of his car and walk to my front door, not looking back to see if Jack or the pits of Hell are following me as I dig in my purse for my keys. They aren’t where I usually put them, zipped inside an interior pocket where they can’t fall out. After turning my bag upside down and emptying everything inside, I eventually find them in Jaxon’s jacket pocket.
I’m still wearing it.
I slide it off as I walk toward his car, but he smiles when I get close, cold and dark like that day in the bar. “Keep it.” I ignore him and open the door, tossing the jacket inside.
I don’t close the door right away. My gaze is drawn to his hands, dried with blood.
He did that for me.