I watch as if in slow motion as Landon reacts. He opens the door and swiftly climbs into the car, shutting the door a moment before a black car zooms past, almost scraping the side of the car, the tires screeching as it comes to a stop a few yards in front of us.
I reach for Landon, frantic, wanting to assure myself that he’s all right, but he’s already pushing the door open. Joe is out of the car, striding purposefully toward the driver who almost hit Landon.
The driver is Evans Sinclair. I watch as he exits the black car. He looks unsteady on his feet but has an asshole grin on his face. I push open my door and leave the car just in time to hear him say in a loud, slurry voice. “Come on! It was an accident. I lost control of my car for a moment.”
Joe has him in a grip, and Landon walks up to them, the barely controlled rage in his every step making me nervous. What is he going to do?
I take a step forward and stop when I see him jab a finger in Evans Sinclair’s face. I can’t hear what he’s saying to him, but after a few terse-sounding words, he turns around and comes back toward me.
“Are you alright?” he asks me.
I nod. “He tried to kill you.”
“He’s stupid,” Landon mutters, “and drunk.” He opens the front passenger door for me, and I climb in, watching as he goes around to the driver’s side. He gets behind the wheel. “Joe will drive him home and make sure he doesn’t hurt himself, or someone else.”
‘Shouldn’t you call the police or something?” There are at least two valets and the doorman for the restaurant who witnessed what happened. I frown at Landon, wondering why he’s being so easy on Evans. He could have hurt you.”
He starts the car. “Let’s go home,” he says tiredly, sliding the car onto the road. I look from his face to my hands on my lap. They’re still shaking from the fear of moments before. Why is he letting Evans off so easy? I don’t want to latch on to the closest reason in my mind. The fact that Evans is Ava’s brother, that Landon doesn’t want to cause Ava or her family any embarrassment, maybe because he still cares about her.
The thought is unsettling, a dent in the confidence I have in his feelings for me. I shake my head, pushing my fears to the back of my mind. He probably has his reasons. Negative publicity would likely be as bad for him as it would be for the Sinclairs.
I watch his fingers on the wheel as he drives, the frown on his face, the look of concentration on his features, and suddenly, the profound relief that he’s safe overcomes me.
He’s not hurt.
He’s not hurt.
I want to cry. I want to tell him to stop the car just so I can hold him.
At the apartment, Landon is quiet, his hand clasping mine as we make our way up to the bedroom. I can tell that he has a lot on his mind. We prepare for bed, and I’m still anxious, mostly because I can’t shake the thought that Evans might be a real danger to him.
Landon takes a call from Joe, maybe to tell him that he has taken Evans to wherever he’s staying. I listen to the terse responses on his side of the conversation, and when he comes to bed, I press myself into his chest, reveling in the comfort and warmth of his arms as he wraps them around me. My fear making me hold him tighter, making me wish that I could somehow ensure his safety forever.
THE next morning when I wake up, Landon is not in bed. I felt him leave sometime during the night, but he didn’t return as he usually does close to morning. I get off the bed, washing my face and brushing my teeth before I go downstairs in search of him.
The door to the study is open, and I hear Landon’s voice before I reach the doorway. He’s talking softly; his voice gentle.
“I would have called last night, but I didn’t want to wake you,” I hear him say. “He’s your brother and he’s out of control. It’s time to stop talking and actually do somethin
g about him.”
I stop walking, realizing that he’s talking to Ava. I wait, not sure whether to go on, suddenly wrestling with the feeling that I’m intruding, which is absurd, or at least would be absurd if I didn’t have that lingering fear about his relationship with Ava Sinclair.
“Ava,” I hear him say. Am I imagining the intimacy in his voice when he says her name? I picture Ava on the other end, beautiful, confused, and concerned, telling him how she doesn’t know what to do. “I don’t know what to say,” Landon continues. “Try rehab or a sanatorium. The next time he tries anything like what he did last night I won’t be so easy on him.”
I turn around, heading for the kitchen. I put on the coffee and sit at the island. I should go back to bed, I think tiredly. It’s Saturday after all, and what’s a Saturday without a sleep-in? However, I know that I won’t sleep a wink, not after last night, not after listening to Landon talk to Ava. My mind is in too much turmoil.
I try to shrug Ava out of my mind, recalling all the assumptions I’ve made in the past. I shouldn’t let my fears get in the way of trusting Landon, however insistent they may be.
It’s almost an hour before Landon joins me, he finds me still sitting at the island, surrounded by the aroma of fresh coffee.
“Good morning,” he says gently. He’s already showered, dressed in light pants and a gray sweater. His eyes flick over my face, full of concern. “Are you okay?”
I smile and shrug. “I’m fine. Good morning.”
He looks like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he goes to the phone and orders breakfast. Esmeralda arrives soon after, with waffles and sliced fruit, before moving on to start her housekeeping.
I’m not hungry. A lot has happened to make me lose my appetite, but I eat anyway, my eyes on Landon, waiting for him to tell me about his phone call, anything to make me feel less like Ava still has some sort of hold on him.