Part 10 (1/2)

She stepped under the water and let it pour over her head, wis.h.i.+ng she could just disappear, forget all this was happening. She wanted it to go away, didnat want to deal with it.

And Jeff was dead. Dammit, Jeff was dead.

The full force of that reality finally slammed into her.

The sob tore from her throat and she couldnat do anything to hold it back. She shoved the heels of her hands against her eyes to try to stop it, but she couldnat. Instead, she slid down the shower wall and sat on her heels, crying buckets for Jeff, releasing the pain shead been holding back since shead discovered the b.l.o.o.d.y, beaten body in the alley was her friend.

aIam sorry. Iam sorry.a When shead let out all she had in her, she was drained, exhausted. She opened her eyes and climbed to a standing position, her legs shaking. She laid her hands against the wall and just breathed for a minute, then grabbed the shower gel and poured some in her hands, soaped her body and rinsed.

Dante would be back soon. She needed to finish up and the water was getting cold. She rinsed her hair and wrung it out, then turned the shower off.

Thatas when she glanced down at her scar and saw blood.

Her heart began to hammer against her ribs.

Youare imagining it. Itas not there.

She knew that. She looked down again, certain it would be gone, a figment of her overtired, overstressed imagination. But a thin river of blood traced around the scar, started to run down her breast, then her belly and legs.

No. Itas wasnat there. She rubbed at it, but blood kept coming.

Her breathing quickened and the familiar clawing sensation choked off her throat.

No. Oh, G.o.d, no. Not now.

She pushed open the shower door and fought to focus.

The towel. She had to find the towel. And breathe. Breathe, Anna, breathe.

She did. Faster and faster. She was bleeding, she had to get help, now.

Someone help me, please. Heas going to hurt me.

She stumbled out of the shower, tripping over the bottom edge and falling to the tile floor.

And thatas when she saw it, all over the floor. More blood, rivers of it, all around her, pouring from the cut on her chest. She pressed the towel there.

aStop bleeding. Son of a b.i.t.c.h, stop bleeding.a And through it all, her throat closed as if someone had put his hands around her neck and had begun to squeeze. She fought for every breath, sucking in air as if each inhale was the last one. Panting, she tried to get up, but she was nauseous, dizzy, soaked with sweat. And the tile was cool. She was so hot. aHelpame.a She couldnat breathe. She was bleeding. He was going to kill her.

The blood continued to surround her. She was going to drown in it.

Dante put the takeout on the kitchen counter, surprised Anna wasnat out of the shower yet.

Then again, she deserved a long, hot shower after tonight. She looked a wreck and he knew d.a.m.n well how much Jeffas death affected her, despite her attempts at maintaining a cool, professional resolve.

He went to the bathroom door and listened. No shower running, so he knocked.

aAnna? Iam back with food.a And thatas when he heard the shuffling and a faint whisper.

aHelp me.a He turned the k.n.o.b. Door wasnat locked. He pushed it open. She was lying on the floor naked, curled up in a ball, the towel clenched in a death grip around her, her breath sawing in and out.

She was drenched and shaking.

He bent over her and touched her skin. It was cold. aAnna.a She flinched when he touched her. f.u.c.k, she was so pale.

She lifted trembling hands to his. aBlood.a Aw, s.h.i.+t. Head seen enough post-traumatic stress disorder in the field to know a panic attack, and she was in the throes of a big one. aHoney, thereas no blood on you.a He picked her up, despite her attempts to fight him off. He put the lid of the toilet down and sat her on it, then shoved her head between her knees. aBreathe, Anna. Slow and easy.a She ignored him at first, her arms flailing as her instinct to fight was strong. But he kept her head shoved down between her knees and kept his voice calm. aYou know what to do. Breathe slow. Youare hyperventilating.a In the meantime he grabbed a washcloth and ran it under cold water in the sink, didnat bother to wring it out, just slapped it on the back of her neck. After a few minutes she stopped shaking. A few minutes more and her breathing began to slow down. He swept the washcloth down her back, then over her face.

Finally, she seemed calm enough, so he let go of her neck. She raised her head a fraction, but braced her hands on her knees.

aBetter?a She was s.h.i.+vering. aCold now.a He grabbed her robe from the hook on the back of the door and laid it over her. She slid her arms through it and wrapped it around herself.

aNeed a drink of water.a aOkay.a He found disposable cups by the sink, so he filled one and handed it to her. No way was he leaving her alone.

aSip,a he instructed.

aI know.a Her voice was clipped. Angry. She was embarra.s.sed. He understood that, but shead have to deal with it.

She took several sips, breathed a little, then a few more sips until the cup was empty.

She shoved her hair away from her face and blew out a hard breath. She still looked pale, but not as bad as she had when head walked in.

aThink you can stand now?a aYeah.a She reached for the sink, but instead he helped pull her up, then slid his arm around her waist.

aI want to get dressed, comb my hair. Iam okay.a He could let her go now. aHoller if you need me. Iall be in the kitchen.a aIall be out in a minute.a He shut the door, then leaned against the wall, listening to the sounds she made. Normal sounds.

Only then did he exhale and calm his own breathing.

Jesus. Shead scared the s.h.i.+t out of him.

Yeah, shead hidden it well, but the trauma Anna suffered twelve years ago had stayed with her.

And the guilt churned within him.

He pushed off the wall and headed into the kitchen, warmed the Chinese food in the microwave and spread it out on plates. Anna finally surfaced. Shead put on shorts and a tank top and had combed her wet hair. Her face had lost that deathly pallor and she seemed steady enough now.

She hadnat been the only one shaking in there.

aTake a seat.a aMaking yourself at home in my kitchen?a she asked as she slid into one of the chairs at the table.

aAs a matter of fact, I am.a He put a plate and a soda from the fridge in front of her.

aHow long have you had panic attacks?a She lifted her gaze to his, a hot bite of anger in her eyes.

He held her gaze. He wasnat going to let this go, and she knew it.

aTwelve years.a That didnat surprise him. aYou take medication?a She shook her head and pushed her plate to the side. aNo. No drugs. Therapist tried to shove those on me. I tried them but they made me fuzzy. I hated not being clearheaded.a aSo how do you deal with the attacks?a She laughed and took a long swallow of soda, then dabbed at her lips with the napkin. aObviously, not well.a aThey often come with hallucinations?a She inhaled slowly, then dragged it out. aRarely. At first, yeah, but hardly at all anymore. Tonight was a bad one. Sorry.a They ate for a while in silence. He was hungry, so he devoured most of his, while she picked at hers and slid the food around with her fork. But at least she ate some.