Ryker (Hope City #6) - Kris Michaels Page 0,71
it.” She smiled down at the picture of her mom that her dad kept as his home screen. “I really don’t need anyone to stay with me.”
Her father put a hand on her arm. “Brie, tonight, you saw one man murdered, you shot someone, you were kidnapped, knocked out, threatened, transported here with a hood on under the threat of death, and nearly drowned. Forgive me if I want someone with you when all of that crashes around you, because it will. Eventually, it will all land and you’re going to have to deal with it. I don’t want you alone.”
“Wow. Okay, hearing it like that...” She drew a breath. Now she was shaking again. Somehow, she hadn’t strung all the events together in her mind even after giving her statement. She trembled and wrapped the blanket someone had handed her earlier around her tighter. “Do you think Blay is working?”
“One way to find out.” Her dad took the phone from her hand and made the call. “Blay, sorry for calling so early. Are you working today?” Her father glanced at her as he spoke. “No, that would be perfect. I’m going to need you to swing by your apartment. I’ll explain it all when you get here. Good. Yep, see you then. Love you, Son.” He hung up the phone and pocketed it. “He’s just finishing up shift change. We’ll catch a ride to the apartment and I’ll stay with you until Blay comes by.”
“I’m sorry.” Tears formed in her eyes, but she had no idea why.
“Ahhh... there it is.” Her dad opened his arms. She dove into the enormous chest and powerful arms that had always protected her. “It’s okay, sweetie. Let’s keep it together for another couple minutes.” He rubbed her back and started her walking down the pier.
It took fifteen minutes to get to the apartment, and Blay was standing at the front door. His eyes widened when he saw her and then narrowed, hardening to a cold, frosty glaze. “I’ll kill the bastard.” Blay ground the words through clenched teeth.
“It wasn’t Ryker. Could you get the door, Son?” Brie sniffled as Blay opened the door. They all marched up the stairs together. She heard Blay ask her father what happened, but obviously, her dad gave him a look to shut him up. Blay unlocked all the locks on the apartment. She walked directly to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and stripped. She needed the stench of the harbor off her and she needed warm water. Lots of warm water.
Sitting down in the middle of the shower, she wrapped her arms around her knees to still the violent shaking. The warm water sprayed down on her aching muscles. She lowered her head to her knees and let the fear wash over her with the spray of the shower.
She could have been killed. The realization pulverized her hastily-shored-up emotional defenses. She let the tears flow. Cathartic and cleansing, that’s what her mother called these types of cries. Only the fear was still there, just under her skin. It crawled against her nerves sending constant messages to her brain. Panic, anxiety, fear... all of the emotions sat next to her on that tile floor. She could feel them as if they were living beings.
It was stupid to allow them power now. She knew she was safe. She wasn't alone, she had Blay and her father here, but how did she turn off what had happened? She quieted her sobbing and rocked a bit, giving herself something else to focus on.
It didn't work. God, what she’d seen and what she’d imagined, the thoughts that still raced through her brain hadn't quieted in the slightest. Since her father had strung each event together for her, she’d been replaying the moments in sequence. The totality of the evening overwhelmed her ability to put any of the thoughts into a cohesive perspective. She’d get there eventually, but it would not happen today. Today she was going to let herself feel the emotions that surrounded her. She'd find a way to put things into perspective. But not today.
She tipped back her head and glanced way up to where the shampoo and soap waited for her. Maybe she’d just soak up the warmth for a bit longer.
Blay rubbed his face with his hands. Scrubbed it, rather. Holy hell. Someone kidnapped Brianna. She’d shot a man. Almost drowned?
“Are you tracking here, Son?” His dad’s question rang loud and clear in the kitchen.
He nodded his