Or pass out from an asthma attack and let them both tumble into the dark.

Gritting her teeth, she leaned back, pulling Camille with her. Again and again. Inch by inch. There was no time. Only distance. Darkness. Cold. The hitching sound of her own labored breathing.

And then there was a flicker. Blue. Then red. Again and again. It landed on the brush surrounding them, lighting up the fog, painting the snow and her breath. Blue. Red.

There were voices now. And more lights.

Her heart sang. She wanted to call out, but her lungs wouldn’t allow her to suck in enough air. So she hung on to her friend’s limp body and sent up a silent prayer.

When her eyes opened, a beam of bright light blinded her. Was she dying? Was this officially it?

“I’ve got two vics on the slope,” a voice reported.

“Get me a rope and the sled,” someone else barked.

Remi squinted up into the light, still clinging to Camille. They were safe.

She’d tell the police everything, and they would go break down Warren’s door and arrest him. She’d go with them and kick him in his motherfucking balls.

That’s when she noticed the tall shadow looming over the guardrail.

“Senator, we need you to step back.”

32

“Remi.” Her name fell from his mouth in two strangled syllables.

He was pacing in front of her without even remembering rising while she told him her story.

He wanted to pick her up in his arms, promise her that no one would ever get that close to hurting her again. He wanted to fly to Chicago and break every fucking bone in Warren Fucking Vorhees’ body.

He wanted to carry her across the street, lock her in his house, and stand guard.

As a cop, he knew how dangerous domestic disputes could be. How quickly they could go sideways. The thought of Remi putting herself between a friend and a fucking monster took ten years off his life.

“Are you okay?” she asked, those jade green eyes searching his face.

Brick stopped mid-stride and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He would never be okay again.

“Do you want some water or something?”

“Just…give me a minute,” he said, finally managing to choke the words out. Visions of her, restrained by a seatbelt, holding her friend’s hand as she tried not to cry out. As she waited for a madman to end her life.

She nodded and picked up her coffee. And waited for him to calm down enough to pretend she hadn’t shattered his goddamn world for the second time in one night.

He would fucking fix this. He would make sure she was never alone in the dark again. Never faced an enemy alone. Never without a protector.

“So Vorhees was with the first responders on the scene?” Brick asked, trying to shift into cop mode. His hands fisted at his side, and he realized it was impossible. There was no way to be objective about the man who had tried to murder two innocent women. Especially not when one of them was his. There was no justice swift enough for that. Would he be satisfied with putting this animal in a cage for the rest of his life? Would the law give him the vengeance he needed to protect Remi? That gray area that lived between right and wrong suddenly began to make sense to him.