Page 15 of Keeping Knight

Putting on a burst of speed, I sprint to the stairs that lead to the suite of bedrooms upstairs. As I take the steps two at a time, I inwardly curse the two-story condo while wishing I lived someplace smaller. Someplace quicker to get around.

I shouldn’t have gone to the exercise room, I scold myself. It’s too far from Ruby. I should have skipped my workout this morning in favor of sticking close to her. If I were really so set on getting my workout in, I could have grabbed some free weights and used them in my bedroom.

Instead, Ruby’s in trouble, and I’m not there. Again.

What’s wrong? Is it her throat? Has it swollen further, and now she’s lying in bed, struggling to breathe? Or is she suffering from a different injury that the doctors missed? I know they ran X-rays and did a physical examination, but what about a CT scan and ultrasound?

Dammit. I should have made sure. Just because I’m not Ruby’s family doesn’t mean I couldn’t have put pressure on the doctors to run extra tests. While I don’t like using the Sutton name as leverage, given the circumstances, it would have been worth it.

But it’s always felt wrong. Using my connection with Fox & Falcon is one thing, like I did to convince the paramedics to allow me to ride in the ambulance. I earned my place at F&F. I work my ass off to make it a success. My family fortune, on the other hand? I had nothing to do with it.

When I reach the hallway that leads to the bedrooms, Ruby moans again. Now that I’m closer to her, I can hear an undercurrent of fear. Because she’s in pain? Fighting to breathe? Or is she simply having a nightmare?

Heart pounding, I run towards the bedroom where Ruby is staying. I put her in the room beside mine, so I’d be close by if she needed me. And it made it easier to check on her every hour throughout the night to make sure her throat hadn’t closed up from the damage to it.

Stupid me, by five AM, I thought it would be safe to leave her. And look what happened.

Not bothering to knock on the partly-ajar door, I shove it open and race inside. As soon as I enter, my gaze sweeps the room, flicking across the dressers, desk, and armchair before moving to the bed.

Beside it is Sampson, standing at attention. His ears are back. His tail is tucked down. When he hears me enter the room, he glances in my direction and lets out a low whine.

Tangled in the covers, Ruby rolls over and hunches into herself. Her legs kick at nothing. Her head tosses back and forth on the pillow. As I’m watching, she flinches as though she’s been struck. She whimpers. Then she jerks violently, nearly launching herself off the bed.

Instinct has me darting forward to catch her, and I brace her shoulder with my hand, holding her steady. The instant I touch her, her eyes fly open, unfocused and filled with fear.

“No!” she yelps. “No!”

Guilt slams into me.

I did this. I scared her. She’s frightened of me.

Yanking my hand away, I say, “It’s just me. Micah. You’re at my condo. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Still caught up in her nightmare—or at least, I’m assuming that’s what it was—she stares at me in confusion. Tears dampen her flushed cheeks. Her hair is all in tangles around her face. Tremors shake her body.

“It’s okay,” I repeat, because I know she may need to hear it several times before it sinks in. “You know me. Micah Sutton. You’re at my condo. You’re safe.”

I lose track of how many times I say it before recognition fills Ruby’s gaze. In an achingly small voice, she whispers, “Micah?”

Relief seeps in. “Yeah. It’s me.” Not wanting to loom over her, I perch on the edge of the bed, leaving plenty of space between us. “It’s just me. Sorry I scared you. But you were moving around, and I was afraid you might fall off the bed.”

With only the light from the hallway to brighten the room, her tears shine wetly. The bruises on her face and neck are dark smudges against her skin. She lifts a trembling hand to her throat. “It’s not your—” She winces. “It’s not your fault.”

Her gaze drifts from my face to my chest, and her eyes widen. An unreadable expression flickers in her eyes.

Belatedly, I realize I’m sitting on her bed with my shirt off. In my hurry to get to her, I hadn’t thought to throw a shirt on. And now I’m sitting here, half-dressed, at a time when Ruby’s feeling most vulnerable. If she wasn’t having doubts about staying here before, I’d put money on her having them now.

Before I can say anything, Ruby glances at the clock on the nightstand. Her forehead pulls. “Oh.” She swallows again, trying unsuccessfully to hide her wince. “I woke you up. I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t,” I reply. “I was working out. Then I heard Sampson bark. He doesn’t bark like that unless something’s wrong. So I came right here.”

As her hand flutters down from her throat, I ask, “Is it worse? Your throat? Is it hard to breathe? I can take a look. See if the swelling’s gotten any worse.”

“No. It’s not worse.” She pushes herself to a seated position and straightens the blanket over her legs. Then she looks back at me, carefully avoiding my chest. “It’s sore. But I can breathe okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Ruby nods. “I’m sure.” Glancing at Sampson, who’s still watching her avidly, she adds, “I’m sorry, Sampson. I didn’t mean to scare you.”