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Twenty-two

RUNNING THROUGH pitch black , groping to feel with arms stretched out in front of her... Sweat drizzled down Riley’s neck.

“Quicker , ” her mother hissed.

Her little legs burned. They’d been running forever. Would it never end?

Her mother looked back , but her stern face was marred in the moonless night.

“He’ s here , ” she clipped out. “Hide.” She disappeared.

“Where?” Riley spun in the darkness. Where had her mother gone? Everyone else was still at the hotel. Hot tears pricked her eyes. She didn’t know how to get back there. Sirens roared in the blackness.

Heavy footfalls crashed along the pavement.

Her chest heaved , her tiny throat closing.

“No!”

Riley bolted up. Sweat soaked her hair, drizzling down her neck and clinging like a beaded mist to her chest and arms.

Where was she? She blinked. What was happening? Terror clamped her chest, hard.

The bathroom door cracked, a beam of light sliding in the crack along with the muzzle of a gun.

She clamored for her weapon, her breath ragged.

“Ri?” Grey said. “Status?”

Her chest deflated as reality swarmed back into place. “It’s clear. I’m okay.” Far from it, but that’s the story she was going with. Vegas was not going to demolish her like before. She was stronger than it. Stronger than before. Hot tears pricked her eyes. She had to be.

Greyson opened the door all the way and rushed to her side.

“Sorry to wake you ...to startle you,” she stammered. She raked a hand through her damp hair. “It was just a dream.”

“Sounded more like a nightmare.” He gestured to the bed. “May I?”

She nodded and scooched over.

He sat on the side and reached over, resting his hand on her calf, rubbing it in soothing strokes. “You okay, luv?”

She nodded. “The casino just...” She swallowed, the fear tracking through her.

“Ri?” He rubbed her calf again.

She bit her bottom lip, then admitted the shame. “It brought back memories best left dead.”

****

Grey cringed at memories that were best left dead for him, too, but death already clung to those memories. He just feared for Riley. Flashbacks and nightmares that woke a person in the night and were worse still during the day—he’d seen it before. And he’d tried, but he couldn’t stop the inevitable conclusion.

“Hey,” she said, resting her hand on top of his on her leg. “You okay?”

She was asking if he was okay when she’d just been plagued by nightmares? “Why do you ask?”

“You just got this awful look on your face and you tensed way up.”

“Sorry.” He needed to be there for her, not the other way around.

“Don’t be sorry. What is it?”

“Just an old memory.” Apparently, memories haunted them both.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked, turning the nightstand lamp on.

“Nah.” He shrugged a shoulder.

She shifted, pulling her knees to her chest. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” He frowned.

“Always pull back when it comes to something personal.”

He didn’t do that, did he? “I don’t—”

“Oh, please, we spend hours upon hours together, and there’s so much I don’t know about you. You know everything about me, but you keep a guard in place, and I want to know why.”

“Some things are best left behind.”

“True, but clearly whatever it is isn’t behind you. I’ve never seen fear on your face before tonight.”

How bad had his expression been?

“Besides, it’s only fair,” she said, sliding closer to him.

“Fair?”

“Like I said, you know everything about me. Even the horrible parts. I want to know you like that.”

He dipped his chin. “You want to know my horrible parts?”

“Yes. I want to know all of you.”

Was she saying ... ? No. She was just curious and being a friend.

“Please. Tell me where your thoughts went.”

Did she think she could save him? He took a deep inhale. Funny thing was, she probably was the only one who could. And while being a couple was a farce, being friends was not, and she was asking as a friend. A dear friend. Dearer than she knew. “His name was David.” He hadn’t said his name out loud in nigh on a decade.

She sat there silent, waiting.

He shook his hands out. “We served in the military together. I was the supply guy getting what everyone in combat needed when they needed it and got some medic training along the way. But my friend David was on the front lines. He saw too much pain.”

He took a steadying breath, or attempted to.

She looked up at him, tenderness in her eyes.

Swallowing, he continued. He’d started; he’d finish. For her.

“After we got back, he had these horrid flashbacks.”

“Did he see anyone about them?”

He nodded. “Yeah, he went to a counselor. Got diagnosed with PTSD and saw a doc and got some meds.”

“And?” She leaned in.

“For a while it got better.” He rubbed the back of his neck. Here came the excruciating part.

Sensing it somehow, she reached out and took hold of his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. He was coming to rely on the warmth and comfort of her hand in his. But soon it would stop. He’d still be part of her life but looking in from the outside again. Alone again. Why did the prospect knock the breath from his lungs?

“Grey? You all right?”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat, dreading the words about to come out of his mouth. “He stopped taking his meds. His PTSD and depression worsened. I feared he might hurt himself....”

She tightened her hold on his hand, caressing it with her thumb.

“I removed the guns from his house. I...” He swallowed again, his throat dry. “I tried to control the situation, but I failed.” There. He’d said it. The words were out, and they sliced through him like a scythe on a festering wound—raw and tormenting.

Her eyes softened along with her voice. “What do you mean, ‘failed’?”

He released a tremoring exhale. “David hung himself.”

“Oh no.” She pressed her free hand to her lips, compassion flooding her eyes, but he didn’t deserve compassion. He’d failed a friend in the worst possible way. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean ... I mean, I shouldn’t have made you share. I’m so sorry that brought back such bad memories for you.”

Unfortunately, what happened to David was just one of the demons he wrestled with. But when Grey was with Riley, the memories—rather the waking nightmares—didn’t nosedive his depression like usual. But hot tears burned his eyes for what was left to say. He exhaled and went for it before he retreated behind his wall. “I found him.”

“Oh, honey.” She cupped his face, caressing his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

He balled his free hand into a fist. “Me too.” If he’d just stayed with him. Done more. Thought of every angle. David would still be here. Worse yet, Grey’s judgment had faltered again when he was searching for the serial killer who murdered Cassie Williams. He’d failed them both, and he couldn’t forgive himself. That was why it was better for everyone if he stayed out of the field.

Riley leaned close, engulfing him in her arms. She rested her head on his chest.

He swiped at an errant tear that escaped. “I learned that day control is a farce.” He’d believed he had control of the situation, but the circumstances flipped, shattering his belief he could control his own depression. He’d seen the toll it took on his dearest loved one, then David with the added pain of PTSD. It’d been a decade of carrying sorrow inside ... but somehow being with Riley brought a sliver of hope that one day he’d beat his demons.

“Hey,” she said after a time of silence. “Why don’t we raid the minibar and chat for a while.”

He wasn’t up for more intense talk.

“Just chat about whatever,” she said, getting up and heading to the minibar. “The weather if you like. I’m just not ready to go back to sleep yet.”

Of course. He’d been so focused on David, he’d nearly forgotten her nightmares had kicked this off. If she needed time and company before falling back asleep, he’d be honored to be there for her as she was for him—as a friend. His hand balled into a fist again, and he shook it out. Only a friend. That brought a different kind of sorrow.

After they’d each snagged a drink and snack from the shockingly expensive minibar—a can of Pringles, two cans of pop, and a bag of Skittles running them twenty dollars—Riley returned to the bed. Setting her Skittles and Sprite on the nightstand, she fluffed two pillows, wedging them between her back and the tufted fabric headboard. She shimmied about until she finally crossed her legs in front of her.

“Comfortable now?” He chuckled. How did she have the ability to bring laughter from his lips so soon after an intense talk? Because it was Riley. She was the light to his darkness. Always had been. And he prayed she always would be. The thought of her seriously dating someone, falling in love, getting married ... He’d be happy for her, but it would wrench a knife in his gut.

“Come sit,” she said, patting the space beside her on the bed.

“I can pull up a chair.”

“Grey, we’re friends. We sit right beside each other at work for hours on end.”

Some of his best times.

“Come on and sit.”

“Yes, ma’am.” That brought a smile to those oh-too-kissable lips.

“So,” he said, pulling the lid off the Pringles and setting it on the nightstand beside him. “What shall we talk about?”

“How about your dance moves or your ability to flirt? You proved me wrong there.”

So she thought he danced well, and flirted well too. Interesting.

Riley jumped off the bed.

He frowned. “What’s up? Spill your soda?” It wouldn’t be the first time, or the hundredth for that matter. The woman was a klutz at times, but an adorable one.

She walked toward the window facing the grotto.

“What is it?”

“I saw movement.”

He stood and retrieved his gun.

“I see it again by the grotto. Someone is out there.”

“I’ll go,” Greyson said, sliding on his shoes.

She slid hers on beside him and grabbed a thin jacket.

He looked at her and realized an argument over her going would only waste time, and she’d end up going all the same.

Opening the door, they raced down the passageway for the rear outer door, guns low at their sides. Thankfully, it was four in the morning, and no one was around—other than the shadow they were chasing.

Stepping out into the frigid night, he blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness. The lampposts were lit, but they lined the far side of the courtyard.

Grey rested a hand on Riley’s arm. They held. Listened.

Footfalls.

They rushed for the grotto.

A shadow shifted through trees. They followed, entering through the hardy winter vegetation surrounding the hot tub.

They held up again, surveying the trees on the opposite side, searching for movement and finding none. No more shadow. No more footfalls.

They’d definitely lost him.

“Come on,” Grey said. “Let’s get you back inside. You’re going to catch hypothermia with that thin jacket.” He wrapped his arm around her waist, tugging her close to him and rubbing her arm.

The thought of sleep seemed even more difficult after another reminder someone was after them. It had to be the man after the key. He’d found them.