leave whenever you want. Say the word, and I'll follow you home to make sure you're safe." Rick opened the door before she could thank him.
The stench inside his house reached her nose before she spotted Wyatt, Slick, and another Tarkio member standing in the living room. She looked around for Paco, and when it was obvious he wasn't in the room, she raised her palm in question.
Wyatt motioned his chin toward the kitchen. At the same time, sharp banging filled the house. She slowly walked toward the noise.
At the sight of Paco opening and shutting the cabinets, she forgot about the others in the house. All he wore were a pair of jeans. Stripped of everything else, his messy hair emphasized the bags under his eyes.
Paco pulled out a plastic container, ripped the lid off, and then tossed the Tupperware to the floor and reached for another cabinet. She stayed at the edge of the kitchen, out of his way.
Behind the frantic behavior, he seemed angry.
"Paco," she said softly.
He stilled his hand on the shelf. She waited until he turned around, and she stepped forward when he continued to keep his back to her.
"What are you doing?" She leaned, wanting to see his face.
His gaze connected with her. The pain reflected in his eyes stole her soul.
Something was wrong.
His eyes, while focused on her, were empty. With his black pupils dilated all the way, she couldn't make out the creamy chocolate brown of his irises.
It was like he looked at her, but he wasn't seeing her. She couldn't see him. The change made him unrecognizable.
She placed her hand on his arm, needing him to be Paco again, not this stranger looking at her.
His muscles tensed against her palm. Her mouth dried.
"Don't." His voice raked over gravel. "You shouldn't be here."
"I am here." She moved closer, cupping his jaw and turning him toward her. "Your friends are worried about you."
His check muscle fluttered. She leaned toward him. Always strong and stubborn, he trembled.
The crack in his armor made her want to be strong for him. He could depend on her.
He'd already done more for her than anyone in her life. It was her turn to help him.
"I'm worried about you," she whispered.
"I can't deal with you..." His mouth tightened. "I need to find her."
"Find who? I can help?"
"Nobody can help." He opened the drawer and scooped out the silverware. "I need to find where they took her."
A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. He talked about a female? Who was she?
"Okay. I'll help." She looked toward the living room, raising her brows in question to the others.
They had to see that Paco was not in his right frame of mind. She sought answers from Rick, and he shook his head. They were clueless about the situation.
Taking the knives from his hands, she said, "What am I looking for?"
"A piece of paper or mail. Maybe there's an address."
"Okay." She opened another drawer.
There was nothing in it but a deck of playing cards and a bottle opener with a gas station's name on the side. Pacifying him until he calmed and could explain what was going on, she glanced at him.
He kept looking at her and frowning. For several minutes, they worked together, searching every nook. She'd saved two bowls from breaking when he grew frustrated and stopped him when he reached the drinking glasses.
"Paco?"
"What?"
"Can we stop for a few minutes and talk?"
"Can't stop. Never stop." He stepped on a plate. The glass broke under his barefoot.
She grabbed him, sliding her arms around him. He jerked but settled in her embrace.
"Can you hold me?" she asked.
His arms went around her, and he slid his fingers through her hair. Wanting him to calm, she pressed her ear to his bare chest. His heart beat wildly. Afraid he'd hurt himself, she needed to distract him.
"I'll stay with you for as long as you need me." She rubbed his bare back. "I'm not going to leave you alone."
His overheated skin warmed her. He'd worked himself up until he acted irrationally. There was nothing in the kitchen cupboards. Going by the way the Tarkio members were reacting, they'd sensed something was off with him, too.
Paco didn't even look right to her. Unlike her, he'd never panicked or gone crazy with worry. He always came across confident and brave.
She hated seeing him like that. It was like consoling a stranger.
A stranger that reeked of alcohol, smoke, and sweat. She held on tighter, wanting to put him back