that he knows he got to me. And it’s then I realize that I left my phone on the hood of his car. I don’t even know if he noticed it. For all I know it’s on the ground and been run over a hundred times by now.”
Her eyes met Dameon’s.
And he was pissed. Nose flaring, short breaths, white-knuckled fist gripping the neck of the whiskey bottle to the point she thought it would break pissed.
He released his hand on the bottle and laid it flat on the counter. “Let’s go get your phone,” he said in a voice so calm it was scary.
“It might not be there.”
“We won’t know until we look.”
She stood, glad to feel steadier than when she walked in. After pulling a long coat from her closet, she grabbed her purse and keys. Dameon opened the door and waited for her. Once the deadbolt was locked, she let him lead her to his car. His hand stayed on the small of her back the whole time.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It took an incredible amount of restraint to keep his shit together. He knew when Grace called that something had to have gone down for her to cave and call him. Dameon knew he wasn’t at the top of her speed dial . . . yet. She further showed him how scared she was when she let him hold her. And now, when he was calmly driving in the direction she told him and paying attention to the speed limits when he wanted to pull a Mario-Fucking-Andretti to get there, he was showing restraint. And Grace sat quietly in the passenger seat of his truck. He hoped the bastard had hung around. He’d gladly ask Omar for bail money to drive his fist into the man’s face.
Men who went out of their way to intimidate women were some of the lowest creatures out there.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
He could lie. “I’m not a violent man,” he told her.
She sighed. “Good.”
“But I really want to break something right now.”
She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “You can’t. If he’s still there, you can’t.”
He wasn’t about to make that promise.
“Dameon, I didn’t call my brothers because that’s exactly what they’d do.”
“Have I told you how much I like your brothers?”
“You’ve only met one,” she said.
“What’s your other brother’s name?”
“Matt.”
“I like Matt. Nice guy. Takes care of his family.” He glanced in his rearview mirror. “How much farther?”
“Before you get to the last light, there’s a dark driveway on your left. Dameon . . .”
He pushed the speed limit since traffic had eased up.
“Dameon?”
“Yeah?”
She squeezed his arm. “Promise me.”
“I have a younger brother. He’s kind of useless now. Never really grew up. But when we were kids, we had each other’s back. If someone messed with him at school, they messed with me. That sounds a lot like how you describe your brothers.”
The first light cooperated, the second one didn’t.
“Dameon, I’ll lose my job.”
He turned his head and looked at her. He wanted to tell her that if she lost her job, he had her back. But that’s not what she wanted to hear.
“I won’t make you sorry you called me,” he told her.
That seemed to be enough for her. He turned into the gravel drive at a slow pace.
“He’s not here,” Grace said with a sigh.
At least Dameon didn’t have to worry about breaking his word with her.
“Our cars were parked over there.” She waved a finger in the air. “Stop here and leave your lights on.”
He put the truck in park, left the engine running, and jumped out.
Grace briskly walked across the drive and concentrated on the ground. “We were here.” She spread her arms out. “I put the phone on top of his hood right about here.”
They searched the ground in silence.
Dameon looked far beyond where Grace said she’d last seen it. He walked around his truck and to the edge of the drive through the dry ditch. When he looked back at Grace, he imagined her there with the asshole who scared her. The place was dark. The closest mobile homes were equally dark, as if the residents weren’t there or used blackout blinds to stop the headlights from shining in. Who would hear her if she screamed? Someone would, but would they do anything?
Dameon’s mind went beyond the darkness and conjured up a whole lot of what-ifs. What-iffing was a waste of time, but he couldn’t seem