The Rescue

ANNA

“Jesus Christ, your head is bleeding.” Gavin’s concern was evident.

He bent down and gently lifted me. Even the slight movement made me wince.

“I think somebody hit me,” I said, but my voice sounded funny. I realized we were moving just as he stopped and opened up a car door. “Where are we going?”

“My house,” he said in a tense tone.

“Why?” I asked.

He didn’t answer, so I cracked open my eyes but shut them again when my vision swam.

I tried to remember everything that led up to my getting hurt and frowned.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “I was out with a friend.”

“Really? It looked like you were seconds from being kidnapped,” he growled.

“Those guys were mean,” I slurred.

My eyelids were heavy, and my head felt like someone was trying to hammer it open with an ice pick.

It took a moment for me to gather at least some of my bearings.

When I did, I realized I was still cradled in Gavin’s arms, but now we were inside a vehicle.

Part of me knew I should move, but I couldn’t string enough thoughts together to actually do it.

Plus, it felt good, ~really good~, to be snuggled into the warmth of his chest…until a sudden urge hit me.

I shot up. “I’m going to puke.”

I started fumbling around, trying to find anything to contain it when Gavin threw open the door and helped me lean out to vomit all over the street and the side of his Range Rover.

When I was sure everything, including my breakfast from the week prior, had vacated my body and the dry heaving subsided, I glanced up and realized Mark was speaking with police officers.

Before I could unpack the rest of what I saw, Gavin gently pulled me back inside.

I settled on his chest, where he handed me a napkin and a bottle of water.

“Thank you,” I said gratefully.

I vaguely heard his response before I lost consciousness, wrapped in the security of his arms.

***

When I woke up, I knew I wasn’t at home.

If the coffered ceiling didn’t clue me in, the musky scent of spice and sandalwood was a dead giveaway.

I sat up quickly and then groaned when it felt like my brain might explode.

“You might want to take it slow.”

Gavin’s deep voice was low and calm, but I knew him well enough to sense the storm brewing underneath.

It reminded me of the way a predator might lull its prey into a false sense of safety.

“What happened?” I asked quietly.

“You don’t remember?”

I lay back on the plush pillows that I was pretty sure were filled with the feathers of a golden Pegasus or something equally as mystical—and frowned.

“I met Kris for drinks,” I thought aloud. “We danced…”

I was missing something.

My head hurt more than a simple hangover could explain.

I touched my lip and winced. It was swollen and painful. My ribs also felt strangely sore.

I gasped. “Oh my god. That guy.”

“Guys,” Gavin corrected me. “There were three of them.”

I nodded and then realized he might not be able to see me in the dark room.

“One of them got handsy and was mad I wouldn’t dance. The bouncer threw them out. I think they found me when I was waiting for my cab.”

I touched my temple and found a tender lump.

“One of them hit me because I bit him.”

“Hmm,” he murmured. “Care to explain what the hell you were doing alone outside a bar?”

I scoffed. “Care to explain how you knew where I was?”

He was silent for a beat. “You texted me.”

“Ha!” I mocked and then regretted it when my head pounded. “I wasn’t that drunk, Mr. Powell. Try again.”

“Fine,” he said simply. “I tracked your phone.”

“And just so happened to be there as I was leaving?” I questioned further.

I knew how Gavin operated.

He started out in tech, after all.

He chuckled, but it sounded somewhat threatening. “Okay, Annalise. I hacked your company-owned cell phone as you signed over permission for me to do when you got it.”

“You’re a dick,” I muttered—then another thought occurred to me. “How long have you been doing that?”

He didn’t respond.

“Did you delete my messages from Adam this morning?” I asked and thought about it. “Yesterday morning, I guess.”

I heard him sigh and saw his shadow stand up from an armchair I hadn’t noticed earlier in the dim light.

He walked over before sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached out and cupped my chin in one of his hands before running his thumb along my throbbing cheek with a frown.

His touch was so tender and full of concern; for a moment, I forgot my animosity, instead mesmerized by the sensation of being so close to him.

“Annalise, we can argue about it, but honestly, I’m not in the mood right now.”

His words snapped me back to reality. I jerked my chin out of his touch.

“I don’t think you get to decide when we argue. You have absolutely zero right to be going through my personal conversations or tracking my whereabouts.”

He stood up and whirled around on me.

“I was fucking worried about you,” he snapped. “I happened to be out and wanted to make sure you were getting home safely. Clearly, I had a reason to be worried. You put yourself in danger.”

“Excuse me?” I demanded. “By refusing to dance with some douchebag, I deserve to be attacked by him and his friends?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You know what, fuck you, Gavin.” I crawled out from his dreamy duvet. “I was only at that shithole because of you and your stupid contract.”

“Oh, I’m ~so~ sorry I want you to be my wife, Annalise,” sarcasm dripped from his words like honey. “You’re right, I’ve basically ruined your whole fucking life by offering you everything.”

I huffed.

“You shouldn’t have brought me here,” I said and tried to feel around the bedside table for a lamp.

There was a strange tug on my hand, followed by a stinging sensation. “Ouch!”

“Shit.” Gavin flipped on the light and sat down again. “It’s the IV.”

He grabbed my hand and held a tissue to the back. Once again, the feel of his skin on mine made my breath hitch.

“W-why do I have an IV?”

Without looking up, he sighed. “Because after your concussion, you passed out and couldn’t stop vomiting. I called a doctor.”

“You called a doctor? Where? Here?” I was completely baffled.

Then it dawned on me that it was probably normal for him.

Of course, doctors made house calls for billionaires.

“Mm-hmm,” he murmured and sent a text with his free hand. “He gave you some fluids to help with the hangover and told me to keep an eye on you. You were able to answer most of his questions—”

“I ~talked~ to a doctor?”

“Briefly,” he said. “You were pretty out of it, but he determined that was mostly due to your alcohol consumption.”

I glanced down and gasped. “Where are my clothes?”

I was dressed in what I assumed was one of his cotton T-shirts and my underwear.

~Please tell me he didn’t see me naked.~ The tops of my ears burned with embarrassment.

“In the dumpster,” Gavin said flatly. “Between the vomit and the blood, they couldn’t be saved. A nurse helped you change, and my housekeeper is picking something up on her way in.”

“Right,” I agreed, somewhat relieved.

It hit me then just how serious the night before had been. One minute I was sure the men who attacked me were going to take my life.

The next Gavin was there to pull me back from the brink of disaster.

Not only did he rescue me from their assault, but he took care of me afterward—in his home, no less.

I bit my lip and hugged my knees to my chest as the gravity of my near demise sank in. “Thank you for, umm, saving me, Gavin.”

He gave me a long look, and his eyes seemed to soften.

“I’ll always be here for you, Annalise.”