“She deserves better from you,” Caleb hissed. “No matter what you think she’s done, she doesn’t deserve your judgment. I sent her to hell to save Tori. That will always be between us. And now she’s gone back because she’s the only person who can stop a cold-blooded monster. What is wrong with you that you would treat a woman this poorly? What the hell has she done but try to survive with her sanity intact?”

Quinn’s eyes widened at Caleb’s vehemence. Beau frowned, guilt tugging at his implacable features.

“Is she . . . ​alive?” Beau asked uneasily.

The two detectives looked alarmed and immediately started toward Ramie. Caleb wrapped his arms around her, shielding her from everyone.

“What the hell happened in here?” Detective Briggs demanded.

“I damn near lost her. That’s what happened,” Caleb said fiercely. “Go. Find the victim. Call it in. Find him so she’s safe. Don’t let her have suffered this for nothing.”

Detective Ramirez was already on his phone, barking out orders to dispatch.

“Let me look at her, Caleb,” Dane said grimly. “Is she breathing?”

Caleb’s hand twisted in her hair. He pressed his lips to her temple so he could feel the reassuring puff of her breath against his neck.

“She’s alive,” Caleb said tersely. “I’m taking her upstairs.”

Caleb slowly got to his feet, mindful of jostling his precious burden. He scooped her into his arms and strode for the stairs, her pale face still buried against his chest. His heart thumped rapidly, fear still a living, breathing entity inside him.

He’d lived without fear for most of his life. Only in the last year had he been made vulnerable, realizing what it truly meant to be afraid every minute of every day. He hated fear. It was a paralyzing quality that he had no use for. And yet with allowing himself to care about someone came the knowledge that he’d live with fear the rest of his life because there were simply some things out of his control.

He carried Ramie into his bedroom, easing her down onto his mattress. Her hands and feet were blocks of ice, her skin so chilled she seemed tinged with blue. He pulled the covers back and then crawled into bed with her, pulling her body into his, offering his warmth to her.

She never even stirred, her breathing so light that he continually sought reassurance that she was breathing at all.

What the hell was he going to do? He’d never felt so goddamn helpless in his life. There was no amount of money he could throw at this problem to make it go away. Money had long since lost any intrinsic value to him. It was simply a tool like any other that made life more comfortable. It certainly didn’t solve all of life’s problems and it didn’t make him immune to hardship and pain.

He inhaled the scent of her hair, closed his eyes and wondered what the hell he was going to do to make her pain go away.

She murmured something unintelligible and burrowed more firmly into his embrace. The small gesture gave him a measure of comfort. He relaxed, allowing the brief spurt of pleasure at having her molded against his body to surge hotly through his veins.

He would be here when she woke, so she didn’t wake alone and frightened. No matter how long she slept, he’d be here, holding her when she came back.

NINETEEN

IT was nearly two in the morning before Ramie finally stirred. Caleb had lain tensely beside her all afternoon and evening, worrying over the fact she’d been out for so long. The moment he felt her move, he tensed and glanced at the clock beside his bed. He’d only just fallen into a light sleep.

A low whimper of distress escaped her lips. His hand immediately cupped her cheek and he tilted his head so his lips covered hers. She went utterly still against him. He could practically hear her working it all out in her mind. Remembering the torment she’d endured and her sudden awareness of where she was now.

Her body shook with silent sobs. It broke his heart to hear how defeated and hopeless she sounded.

“You aren’t alone, Ramie,” he whispered against her ear.

“He killed her. Oh God, Caleb, he killed her. He used her to bait me.”

“Shhh, baby. It’s not your fault.”

Her fingers curled into his chest and her lips turned up against his neck. He felt the dampness on her cheeks and he kissed one of the tear trails away.

“Make me forget,” she said brokenly. “Please. I can’t bear it. She’s all I can see. And all I know is that I failed her.”

Caleb shook her a little, placing himself on eye level with her as he stared fiercely at her. “You did not fail her, Ramie. If you want to start assigning blame, then blame the right person. That sick bastard out there stalking you.”

He rubbed his hand up and down her back, underneath the hem of her T-shirt, up her bare spine to her nape. He trailed his fingers around to her stomach and then up, molding her breast in his palm.

His lips stuttered over hers, sucking in her sob, her breath, and returning it in a heated rush. His thumb rasped over her nipple, teasing it to a puckered, rigid peak. Her arm slid around his waist, anchoring herself against him. Her hand splayed wide over his back just as he rolled her underneath him, pushing her shirt upward with his right hand.

His skin was on fire, wanting, needing to touch her, to caress her. He’d never been so patient and gentle before. He wasn’t sure she even knew what she’d asked him, and he’d never take advantage of her. He gave her time to tell him no, to change her mind, and then he wondered if he should say no for her, if she would hate him for making love to her.