Chapter 104: Bad Guys
- RAYA -
It’s been too long. Where in the world is Dex?
I have finally overcome the fear of the dark interior of the house and now have all that fear focused outside, where Dex disappeared and hasn’t returned. It’s been at least ten minutes. It feels like more. It feels like an eternity.
"Dex, where are you?" I whisper, looking out the window and seeing nothing but darkness, teeth clenched together with anxiety, wondering what’s happening that I’m not privy to while I’m locked in here.
I can’t wait in here like this anymore not knowing if something happened to him. He could be out there hurt—I could be wasting minutes expecting him to return when he needs help.
I slowly open one of the doors and step out, venturing down the walkway as quietly as I can and returning to the driveway, leaving the gate open behind me and the door open beyond that in case I need to run back through them both. He’s still nowhere in sight, so I take a deep breath—finding that reserve of fierce, perhaps naive bravery and stalking across the exposed part of the yard that leads to the woods.
When I’m about halfway to the tree line, Dex appears, cradling his arm against himself. It’s obvious he has an injury, so I rush the rest of the way to his side. Instead of allowing me to fuss over him, he guides me back the way I came.
"What happened? Where are you hurt?" I choke out, looking him over and zeroing in on the forearm that’s bleeding.
"I told you to get inside and lock the door," he says instead of answering me.
"I was worried, and apparently for good reason! Should I call the police?"
Dex groans and rakes a hand over his face. "Probably. I will call."
When we get back inside, he turns on the lights and goes into the kitchen, fishing the phone out of his pocket and dialing 911 while he turns on the sink and runs a towel under the water.
"There is an intruder on my property. He pulled a knife on me. We’re probably going to need an ambulance," he says gruffly and then gives them the address. Instead of waiting on the line to answer more questions, he hangs up and starts trying to clean the wound on his arm.
"How bad is it?" I ask, taking the towel from him so I can get a look and help him with it.
"Not that bad," he says, sucking in a sharp breath when I gently press on the area to absorb some of the blood.
"It looks pretty deep. You’re going to need stitches. Why don’t we just put pressure on it until they get here to treat it?"
"I didn’t ask for an ambulance for this," he says, avoiding my eyes. And then I noticed the cuts on his knuckles, too.
"You hit someone who did this to you and they’re still out there? Who is it?" I look back in the direction of the front door even though I can’t see it—even though I know Dex wouldn’t have left someone out there who might surprise us and come in to continue the assault.
He sighs, taking the towel from me and holding it against his arm. "I don’t want to tell you," he chuckles miserably.
"What? Why?" My eyes go wide. "Is it Lawson?"
He shakes his head, and for some reason my stomach drops. We have more problems than just Lawson?
"Is it... Grace?"
He scoffs. "You think I would hit a woman?"
"If she pulled a knife on you like this, then I sure hope so!"
He leans against the counter, staring at the kitchen island. "No. I’m pretty sure it’s your neighbor. I didn’t get a look at him when he pulled the gun on me before at the apartment building, but it’s got to be him. I don’t know who else would be out here spying on us, and he wouldn’t answer me."
"What?" I whisper, icy terror skittering down my spine. "How? How would he know where you live? Or... that I’m here?"
Dex shakes his head without an answer for it, and I’m suddenly overcome by immense guilt. How is all of this happening? And why? All of these things are my fault.
Without realizing it, I’ve backed up several steps, and Dex looks up. "Where are you going?"
"This is all my fault. All of this. You’ve brought me into your home—into your life. And now you’re hurt because of it."
He pushes off of the counter. "The world is full of horrible people, Raya. How is that your fault?"
"Because I’m apparently surrounded by them, and now you’re bleeding," I say, trying not to whimper—I’m not the victim here. I don’t get to act like one.
"Who are you surrounded by? This is just one person," he says. "One sick, fucking deranged person, but it’s only one."
"What about Lawson?" I ask.
"Lawson is my fault. He’s my father’s fault. How do you think I felt when I found you yesterday? If he would have hurt you... I was stupid enough to fall for that meeting he set up yesterday. I was stupid enough not to realize how dangerous he is. I could have done something earlier," he says, eyes flashing with that coiled anger I’ve sensed since yesterday. "And he’s my brother, Raya. This is just some random guy who you had the misfortune of living next to."
"It’s been like... a week," I swallow, feeling ill. "One week, and all of this has happened... and now you’re hurt."
"This is it, though. The bad guys are all out of the way now. Or they will be. There is nothing to worry about," he says, coming to my side, tipping my chin up, making me meet the deep honey brown of his gaze. "This cut on my arm is nothing. I shouldn’t have chased him," he chuckles. "But at least now he’ll be held responsible for something, and he won’t be coming to look for you again."
I sigh, shaking my head. "I’m so sorry, Dex."
"You have nothing to be sorry for," he whispers, kissing my cheek. "Don’t worry about me, principessa. I can take care of myself."
