The ’...Into You’ 2-Book Collection: Crash Into You, Melt Into You. Roni Loren
Brynn said, rummaging through her purse for her keys.
“Right now?” He looked down at his watch.
She threw him a what’s-it-to-you look, grabbed her keys, and headed in the direction of her car. His hand caught her upper arm when she passed him. “We need to talk.”
She wiggled out of his grip, the skin-to-skin contact too much for her frazzled nervous system to handle. “I don’t have time for this tonight. My sister needs me and it’s not a short drive to Quincy Heights. So this little come-to-Jesus is going to have to wait.”
His frown dipped deeper. “Quincy Heights? You can’t go there at this hour. That neighborhood’s a war zone.”
She snorted. “I grew up in neighborhoods like that. I’ll be fine.”
She started walking again, but he hopped off the railing and caught up with her. “I’ll drive you. I promise not to speak… much.”
“Yes, because a hotshot lawyer in a Brooks Brothers suit is really going to scare off the bad guys.” She halted her step and turned to face him. “Look, Reid. The last time I asked for help, you told me no. I don’t plan on asking again. So, go home. Stop acting like there is some discussion we need to have. There isn’t. Everything’s been said. Just come to work on Monday and pretend like we’ve never met. ’Cause that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
He eyed her, his jaw visibly flexing, but didn’t say anything else.
Good. She’d take his broody silence as agreement. She spun on her heel and didn’t bother to look back. Reid Jamison might’ve been able to bend her to his will when she was twenty, but if he thought his sexy smile and whispered commands would get him anywhere with her now, he was more delusional than her clients.
Brynn turned her car onto her sister’s street. The apartment complex was the last residential holdout on a street littered with pawnshops, bail bondsmen, and strip clubs. Reid hadn’t been off base in his assessment of the neighborhood. The Quincy Heights area probably had more hookers, drug addicts, and shootings than any other part of the city. Unfortunately, that type of area was more familiar to Brynn than the middle-class suburb she now called home. The part of Fort Worth she’d grown up in hadn’t looked much different than this.
She parked along the curb, then opened her glove compartment to grab her mace. She may have told Reid she could handle it alone, but she wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t going to go out on these streets this late at night with only a few self-defense training classes under her belt. Weapons were better. She tucked the mace in her purse and climbed out of the car.
Besides a woman in stilettos and spandex standing on the corner a few yards away, the sidewalk was empty. Brynn clicked the alarm on her car and hurried to the stairwell of the three-story apartment complex. She had tried to convince her sister to move closer to her—even offered to help with the costs—but Kelsey had been dancing at the club down the street and said she was perfectly fine here.
Brynn suspected Kelsey’s reluctance had more to do with her fear of being under Brynn’s watchful eye than commuting convenience, but Brynn hadn’t pushed. Her sister was making baby steps in the right direction, and she didn’t want to scare her off by being overbearing.
Her feet ached by the time she reached the top floor. Strappy black pumps were not meant for hiking up three flights of stairs. The 3B label on her sister’s door was peeling off around the corners. She smoothed her fingers over it, but the ends curled back up again. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever state her sister was in, and knocked on the door.
No answer.
She knocked again, but got the same response. With a huff, she pulled out her cell phone and called her. It went straight to voice mail. Terrific. Kelsey had probably gotten over whatever crisis she had called her about and now had gone out.
Or.
Anxiety crawled up her spine. She’d had nightmares of getting that call in the middle of the night—the one that would say something had happened to her sister. She’d received a call like that about her mother three years ago, and she’d sworn to herself at the time that she would do all she could to make sure she never got that kind of call about Kelsey. Unfortunately, Kels hadn’t always been so cooperative in helping Brynn keep that promise.
Brynn sorted through the keys on her key chain and found the one for her sister’s apartment. If nothing was wrong, Kelsey would be pissed that she’d gone in without asking, but Brynn wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if she didn’t make sure everything was okay. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer she wasn’t walking into a real-life version of one of her nightmares. But when she swung open the door, the only thing that greeted her was an empty apartment.
She hadn’t been to her sister’s place in over a month, but her mouth dropped open over the change. The last time, everything had been in disarray—empty cans and take-out boxes littering the counters in the tiny kitchen, dirty clothes piled on one side of the couch, and a layer of dust coating the few remaining surfaces. Now the only things that seemed out of place were a few cardboard boxes on the kitchen table. Everything else looked neat and freshly cleaned. Her sister had even draped bright afghan blankets over the shoddy brown couches, giving the room an almost cheery vibe.
“Kels,” she called out. “You here?”
Brynn stepped inside and closed the door behind her. When she received no answer, she made her way across the small living room and tapped on the slightly ajar bedroom door. “Kelsey?”
She opened the door a bit and peeked inside. The bed was unmade, and a shirt and pair of jeans were strewn across the flower-print comforter, as if her sister had stripped them off in a hurry. Her mirrored closet door was open, revealing more empty hangers inside than clothes. Hell, had Kelsey been serious about leaving town? She barely had enough money to make rent each month, how was she going to afford a road trip?
Uneasiness settled over her. After another failed phone call to her sister, she headed back to the front door. Maybe Kelsey had gone by the club where she worked. Or, at the very least, maybe someone there would know where she was. Brynn locked up behind her and made her way down the stairs, her brain swirling.
The stench of stale alcohol hit her too late. A sweaty hand clamped over her forearm as she stepped off the last stair. “Hey, sweetheart, where ya going so fast?”
Brynn sucked in a breath, her heart stuttering in her chest. “Let go of me.”
She tried to yank away from the man’s grip, but he dug his fingers in tighter. A smile edged his thin lips. He couldn’t have been older than his mid-twenties, but his face had the hardened look of a longtime drug user. “It’s okay, I wouldn’t hurt a pretty thing like you.”
Yeah right, and she was the queen of England. She jammed the pointy heel of her shoe into the top of his foot, putting every ounce of her strength behind it. “I said, let go, asshole.”
A slew of curses flew from his cracked lips, and his green eyes turned feral. Instead of releasing his grip like she’d hoped, he shoved her back into the darkened stairwell and slammed her against the wall, knocking the wind out of her. He leaned in close, his sour breath making her gag. “Well, I was just going to ask if you could spare a little cash, but now you’ve gone and pissed me off.”
She swallowed hard, trying to ward off the oncoming panic attack, but it was too late. She gasped for breath, her lungs’ capacity seeming to shrink in her chest. Sweat dampened her skin, and her head spun. She squeezed her eyes shut. Breathe, Brynn. Think.
The man’s hand grasped the strap of her dress and yanked, tearing the thin piece of material.
Her knees went weak beneath her. She tried to think of the self-defense moves she’d learned, but she couldn’t focus on anything except the fact that she was trapped. That this was happening again. She wouldn’t survive a second