Page 11 of King of Ruin
My heart stops in my chest because…there were two pops and two people. I remember the sound of the trunk and that Kate was in the back of the car still.
Gasping, my arm around his middle tightens.
“What’s wrong?”
“Vincent’s date was in the car,” I whisper.
“Girlfriend?”
“No. Just a date like me. She said she went for the dinner. She?—”
“Maddie.”
This time, my name in his deep baritone sends a skitter of nerves shivering through me. It’s a little fear but it’s the good kind of fear. Like the delicious and a little dark thrill of excitement. “Yes?”
“We really should get inside.”
“Right,” I start toward the door again, feeling for the railing to my front steps. If only there was some moonlight.
The hard length of him is leaning heavily into me as I inch forward, reaching out my hand.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“My eyes aren’t so good,” I answer, hating to admit the truth. Which is weird. I stopped being so insecure about my impairment a long time ago. “And it’s really dark.”
There is a pause, it’s one I’m used to, one I’ve heard many times before, when a person recalibrates what they think about you. Feel.
My heart stutters in my chest.
What happens next is as varied as people. Some talk excessively, some misinform me of everything they know about my condition. Some retreat quickly, and others make excuses.
I hold my breath as I wait to learn how he’ll treat me. For some reason, his reaction matters more than usual. “I’ve got the rail,” he answers as he swings us around. “Step is right in front of you.”
“Thank you,” I answer, my voice a bit breathless as I nearly stumble up the first step. But after that one, I’m good. The familiar pattern of the stairs helps me help him, and we’re inside in the next minute, the door closing behind me.
I hold his hand to lower him to the couch, then spin back, quickly locking the door.
Did I just lock the bad guy out or in?
I turn back to my…erm…guest. I flick on the lights to at least see the broad outline of him. He’s spread out on the couch, long legs before him, broad shoulders taking up one whole end of the sofa.
His hair is dark, I don’t know the shade, but the cut of his jaw is ridiculously perfect. Like model perfect.
I wet my lips, suddenly nervous. Looking at him now, I’ve got no idea what happens next. I twist my hands together, wondering if I’ve made a giant mistake.
I can hear my grandmother’s voice. “Always rushing into save something,” she’d say.
Isn’t helping good, Gran?
“It is if you use your head. You’ve got so much heart, Maddie, sometimes it overrides your sense.”
I shudder to think of what she’d say.Oh Grandma, I wish you were here.
I look up at the ceiling, knowing my tenant is above should I need help. Then again, she’s deaf so how would she know I was in danger…
The man shifts and starts checking his pockets. Real fear skitters through me. “What are you looking for?”
“My phone,” he rumbles. “We need help and…” He checks the last pocket. “Fuck.”