Page 80 of Living with Fire
It’s only been half a second since I stepped foot into the bar, but it feels like it’s been a century of me standing there, frozen, staring at the man of my nightmares.
Movement catches my eye, time normalizing as the sounds of the bar penetrate my ears. I need to move before anyone realizes I’m standing here.
Anyone other than Bryn, that is.
She’s coming at me, and I use her as cover, grabbing the other half of the door to open it up towards the kitchen which changes my course and puts me back into hiding from the front.
“Thanks,” she says, walking through the open door with an armful of dishes.
“No problem,” I squeak, clearing my throat, hoping she didn’t hear the terrified edge to my voice.
When she doesn’t say anything, I breathe a sigh of relief and force myself to walk calmly back to the office. I feel anything but calm. Terror seizes me, thrumming through my veins at a steady pace. I’m shaking like a leaf, and if I looked into a mirror right now, I know I’d be ghostly white.
I’m moving on pure instinct, grabbing my purse and my keys, thanking God I came in earlier than Nate and drove myself. I head out back, walking through the kitchen, keeping my eyes averted from the guys. From a sideways glance, I can tell they’re all busy with something and paying no attention to me.
Slipping out the door, I bolt towards my car, my hands fumbling with my keys. Now that I’m outside and away from prying eyes, I allow myself to freak out just a little, but I know I can’t fully lose it. I’m not safe and I need to keep my head, but at least no one will see me gulping in breath after breath as I try not to hyperventilate.
He found me. He fucking found me, and now I’m not the only one in danger. So is Nate.
If Vincent had seen me, and Nate knew Vincent was in there, all hell would break loose. Nate has told me as much. And I wouldn’t put it past Vincent to do whatever necessary to hurt Nate if he knew that we were together.
I need to get away from here. As far away from Nate as I can before he gets hurt, or worse. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to him. I knew going into this with him that Vincent finding me was a possibility, one that was made greater with the video of me at the fire, and I still foolishly let myself get involved.
I’ve got my car door open when I hear a groan from behind me. It’s hardly a sound, but it makes me shriek, nonetheless. Whirling around, I find a man collapsed in front of the dumpster I’m parked next to, looking wrecked out of his mind.
This isn’t a patron of the bar. This man looks roughened by the streets, and I realize I’ve seen him a few times wandering around near the bar. The first time I saw him, Nate told me his name was Tony, a known drug user. I had the feeling Nate and his crew have helped him a time or two.
Everything inside me tells me to get in the car and leave. Run. Everything except my heart. My brain is screaming it, my body is yelling at me, but my heart says I need to go back inside and get Nate because this man needs help.
I recall the day I told Nate I didn’t know how I would ever repay him for everything he had done for me. The only thing he wanted was for me to help someone in need. Here I am, faced with a choice, and I know which one I have to make, no matter how much my instincts are telling me to make the opposite one.
Slamming my door shut, I race back into the kitchen, hopeful that Nate is back here instead of up front, but my hope is in vain.
“Jeremy!” I yell at him because he’s the closest. I stop long before anyone would be able to see me from the front if the doors were to swing open. “I need you to go get Nate. Now.”
He stops what he’s doing, concern furrowing his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”
“Just go get Nate!” I bark.
I think it’s my tone because he doesn’t hesitate again, rushing through the doors to the front where I can hear him. My eyes squeeze shut and my heart drops into my stomach when I hear my name being used, but I don’t have time to worry about that before Nate is slamming his way through the swinging doors into the kitchen.
The concern on his face makes me want to drop to my knees and beg him to forgive me for what my instincts are still crying for me to do.
Run. Run, run, run.
“That Tony guy is out back; something is wrong with him,” I say hurriedly before my legs give out, or he can question what’s wrong with me. I don’t know if I would be able to stop myself from telling him, and I need to keep him from knowing about Vincent.
“Shit,” Nate mutters, shifting into firefighter mode. Grabbing the first aid kit hanging on the wall, he’s heading out the back within seconds of entering the kitchen.
I’m quick on his heels. There’s more movement behind me, and though part of me doesn’t want to look because I’m scared I’ll see my ex, I glance over my shoulder, breathing a sigh of relief. Liam and Brody.
“Savanna, call 911. Tell them what’s going on and that we’re going to need an ambulance to the bar,” Nate tells me as we go through the door. “Where is he?”
I step out, pointing towards the dumpster. Liam and Brody are right behind me, all three men converging on the man still laying there. From what I can tell, he’s not groaning anymore, nor is he moving, which can’t be a good sign.
Pulling my phone out like Nate said, I dial 911. I’m still shaking from the fear of seeing Vincent, never mind the wave of it from seeing the man on the ground, and I fumble my phone before I can hit send. It lands on the pavement with a clatter, causing me to wince before I bend to pick it up.
As I’m standing up straight, I catch Liam looking at me with narrowed eyes, like he knows something is up with me. Paranoia. It has to be because there’s no way he could know.