Page 24 of Merciless King

“Connor, honey. I think we’ve been through enough that you can call me Connor.” He leaned back, looking down at me. “I’ve got you, London. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Slow it down. Slow breaths.”

Panic had hold of me and I gasped, trying to do as he instructed. His voice sounded distant, the room going fuzzy. I felt like I was suffocating, being sucked under as memories became reality, taking me back, throwing me on the floor, the knife raised high above me…

There was a vicious curse from the door, jarring me. Then Van was there.

“What the fuck did you say to her?” he growled.

“You’re not helping,” Connor gritted out.

Van pulled me from Connor, taking my shoulders in his big warm hands. His eyes, dark and fierce, locked on mine. “I’m right here, London,” he said. “Focus on me.”

For once I didn’t want to look away. I grabbed hold of the lifeline they represented and listened to the sound of his deep, gritty voice as he told me to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. Over and over, doing it with me until I had it back under control.

“That’s good. In and out. Stay with me, sweetheart.”

The next thing I knew, Van was instructing Connor in a clipped voice to hang around while Erin locked up, and he led me out onto the street and to his car. It felt like only moments later we were back in his apartment.

I was sitting on the couch and he was crouched in front of me, looking worried.

6

Van

What the fuck could I do to make this okay for her?

“What did Daniels say, London?” I thought I knew—we’d been making some headway of our own—but I didn’t want to freak her out by giving her info she didn’t need to know yet. I didn’t want what had just happened back in her shop to happen again.

“A pizza guy was killed outside my apartment building three days ago. It was him.” She looked into my eyes. “It was him. He asked about my dog. Because he knew, because he’d killed Heathcliff. And he killed that boy, some poor kid who was unlucky enough to get handed my pizza to deliver, just so some madman could prove he could get to me.”

She sounded almost hysterical, was moments away from a panic attack or, shit, another flashback.

“London—”

She shook her head. “Why didn’t he just kill me when he had the chance? Why is he doing this?”

Shit.

Because the fucker was playing with her. Getting off on her fear.

A sob burst past her lips.

Fuck this. I climbed onto the couch beside her and pulled her onto my lap. “I’m telling you, baby, I won’t let anyone hurt you. He’s not getting anywhere near you. You trust me, yes?”

She was trembling in my arms, but I felt her nod.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. I promise, I’ve got you.”

We stayed like that for a long time. I stroked her hair, her back, until her trembling slowed along with her breathing. She’d fallen asleep. Not surprising with the lack of sleep she’d had the last two nights. I’d heard her cry out last night and heard her pacing around her room afterward. I’d wanted to go to her like I had the first night, but she’d stayed in her room, I guessed to avoid running into me again.

It was dark before I decided it was time to take her to her bed. I stood as carefully as I could and was halfway down the hall with her when she blinked up at me. “You’re carrying me?” she said sleepily.

“Yeah, babe.”

“Why?” she said, voice husky and sexy as fuck and too sleepy to remember to freak out at my nearness.

“Taking you to your bed.”

She froze then, becoming more alert.