Hold Me

Chapter 21

Nora

“An eye for an eye.” Majid’s eyes burn with hatred as he comes toward me, stepping over Beth’s mangled body. The blood is ankle-deep as he walks, the dark liquid sloshing around his feet in a malevolent swirl. “A life for a life.”

“No.” I’m standing there shaking, the fear pulsing inside me in a sickening beat. “Not this. Please, not this.”

It’s too late, though. He’s already there, pressing his knife against my stomach. Smiling cruelly, he looks behind me and says, “The head will make a nice little trophy—after I cut it up a bit, of course . . .”

“Julian!”

My scream echoes through the room as I jump off the bed, trembling with icy terror.

“Baby, are you okay?” Strong arms close around me in the darkness, pulling me into a hard, warm embrace. “Shh . . .” Julian soothes as I begin to sob, clinging to him with all my strength. “Did you have another dream?”

I manage a small nod.

“What kind of dream, my pet?” Sitting down on the bed, Julian pulls me into his lap and strokes my hair. “The old one about me and Beth?”

I bury my face against his neck. “Sort of,” I whisper when I can speak. “Except Majid was threatening me this time.” I swallow the bile rising in my throat. “Threatening the baby inside me.”

I can feel Julian’s muscles tensing. “He’s dead, Nora. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I know.” I can’t stop crying. “Believe me, I know.”

One of Julian’s hands moves down to my belly, warming my chilled skin. “It’ll be okay,” he murmurs, gently rocking me back and forth. “Everything will be okay.”

I hold onto him tightly, trying to quiet my sobs. I want to believe him so badly. I want the last few weeks to be the norm, not the exception, in our lives.

Shifting on Julian’s lap, I feel a growing hardness pressing into my hip, and for some reason, it eases my fear. If there’s anything I can be sure of, it’s our bodies’ desperate, burning need for one another. And suddenly, I know exactly what I need.

“Make me forget,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. “Please, just make me forget.”

Julian’s breathing alters, his body tensing in a different way. “Gladly,” he murmurs, turning to place me on the mattress.

And as he drives into me, I wrap my legs around his hips, letting the power of his thrusts push the nightmare out of my mind.

* * *

I wake up late on Friday morning, my eyes gritty from my middle-of-the-night crying bout. Dragging myself out of bed, I brush my teeth and take a long, hot shower. Then, feeling infinitely better, I go back into the bedroom to get dressed.

“How are you doing, my pet?” Julian steps into the room just as I zip up my shorts in front of the mirror. He’s already dressed, his tall, muscular frame making the dark jeans and T-shirt he’s wearing look like something out of GQ.

“I’m fine.” Turning, I give him a sheepish smile. “I don’t know why I had that dream last night. I haven’t had one in weeks.”

“Right.” Leaning against the wall, Julian crosses his arms and gives me a penetrating look. “Did anything happen yesterday? Anything that could’ve triggered a relapse?”

“No,” I say quickly. The last thing I want is for Julian to think I can’t be on my own for a few hours. “Yesterday was an awesome day. I think it’s just one of those things. Maybe I ate too much at dinner or something.”

“Uh-huh.” Julian stares at me. “Sure.”

“I’m fine,” I repeat, turning back toward the mirror to brush my hair. “It was just a stupid dream.”

Julian doesn’t say anything, but I know I haven’t managed to allay his concerns. All through breakfast, he watches me like a hawk, undoubtedly looking for signs of an incipient panic attack. I do my best to act normal—a task greatly helped by Rosa’s easy chatter—and when we’re done eating, I suggest we go for a walk in the park.

“Which park?” Julian frowns.

“Any local park,” I say. “Whichever one you think is most secure. I just want to get out of the house, get some fresh air.”

Julian looks thoughtful for a second; then he types something on his phone. “All right,” he says. “Give my men a half hour to prepare, and we’ll head out.”

“Will you come with us, Rosa?” I ask, not wanting to exclude my friend again, but to my surprise, she shakes her head.

“No. I’m going to the city,” she explains. “Señor Esguerra”—she glances at Julian—“said he’s fine with that as long as I take one of the guards with me. I don’t need as much security as the two of you, so I figured I’d use the day to explore Chicago.” She pauses and gives me a concerned look. “You don’t mind, do you? Because I don’t have to go—”

“No, no, you should definitely go. Chicago is a great city. You’ll have fun.” I give her a big smile, ignoring the sudden wash of envy. I want Rosa to have this kind of freedom; there’s no reason for her to be stuck in the suburbs.

There’s no reason for her to be confined like me.

* * *

The drive to the park takes less than thirty minutes. As we approach, I realize where we’re going, and my stomach tightens.