Page 21 of Rastor

As if sensing my doubts, Brittney spoke up. "Aw, come on. I really do want to make it right, honest." She gave another pathetic sniffle. "I just need to lay down for a few minutes, that's all."

The way it looked, I had three choices – give up on the apology, show her to a guest room, or sit here, watching her cry and whine until Chloe showed up.

I looked toward the stairway. "Second room on the left."

A minute later, she was safely upstairs and out of my sight. As for Bishop, he stuck around only long enough to say, "You're gonna regret that."

And sure enough, he was right, because when Chloe finally showed up a couple of hours later, I learned the hard way what a dumb-ass I'd been to let Brittney stick around.

Chapter 11

It was nearly dawn when I heard footsteps on the front walkway. I didn't wait for the doorbell. Instead, I made for the door and flung it open.

And there she was – Chloe.

My breath caught. She was here. Finally. She'd scrubbed her face clean of all that heavy work-makeup, and now wore jeans and pale pink hoodie.

I wanted her in my arms, and then in my bed. I wanted to hold her tight and never let go. I let out a long, unsteady breath, and her name fell from my lips. "Chloe."

She gave me a cold smile. "Lawton." From the look on her face, she wasn't nearly as happy to see me as I was to see her.

Somehow, I'd change that. I didn't care what it took. I'd make things right between us. "You came," I said.

"You wanted to talk? Well, here I am."

Yeah. She was here. And she was obviously still angry, not that I blamed her. But the fact that she'd come at all meant something more. There was hope. And for now, I was clinging to it like the life-raft it was.

Unable to stop myself, I moved toward her.

She held up a hand. "Not that kind of talk."

I stopped and tried to get past the loathing in her eyes. Yeah, I deserved it, but it still hurt to see. I swallowed the pain and asked, "Wanna come inside?"

"Uh, no." Her gaze narrowed. "That didn't work out so well for me last time, now did it?"

I couldn't blame her. The last time she'd been here, I'd handcuffed her in my basement. I'd held her there for hours. At the memory of what I'd done, I looked down at her wrists. They were covered by the sleeves of her hoodie, but I knew what was underneath – raw, angry skin from where the cuffs had been.

That was how long ago? Nine, maybe ten hours?

I looked up, meeting Chloe's eyes. What could I say?

An icy breeze whipped at her hair, and she gave a small shiver. Hoodie or not, she wasn't dressed for this kind of cold.

Me neither. I wore jeans and a basic gray T-shirt. No jacket. It was below freezing, but I barely noticed.

But the way it looked, Chloewasfeeling it. She wrapped her arms tighter around her torso and gave another shiver. The gesture, small as it was, hurt to watch – because not too long ago, she'd been shivering in my basement, and I'dlether. She hated to be cold, and I'd known that.

If I had my way, she'd never be cold again.

I looked down at her thin hoodie and felt myself frown. In this weather, she needed a winter coat, not some glorified sweatshirt. Or better yet, she needed to be inside.

I gave her a pleading look. "But it's freezing out." My door was still open. I flicked my head toward the interior of my house. "C'mon. Please?"

She didn't move. "Afraid of a little cold, are you?"

I wasn't afraid of the cold. But Iwasafraid of watching her shiver again. I'd seen a lot of shit in my days, but for some reason, this small thing, I didn't think I could stomach it, not after that whole basement scene.

I shook my head. "It wasn't me I'm thinking about. Cold, hot, I don't care." I met her gaze. "I'm just glad you're here."