Fake (West Hollywood 1)

When my brain finally calmed down and my heart rate seemed mostly back to normal, I finished off the last of my scotch and slowly pulled myself together. Being scared in the place that was supposed to be my home for the next while annoyed the absolute crap out of me. How dare this woman mess with my peace of mind? My sense of security. But she hadn’t gotten her hands on me. I was alright. Therefore, as a grown and capable adult, I should probably stop clinging to Patrick like he was my safety blanket.

“Hey,” he said, voice gentle. Though there was an odd note of tension in it. Guess he’d gotten a shock from all of this too.

“Hey.”

“What do you need? What can I do for you?”

I sighed and climbed off his lap, sliding onto the couch beside him. “I’m okay, Patrick.”

Jack sat down on the far end of the couch with his own drink in hand. He seemed a little shaken too, actually.

“Can we please revisit the doctor idea?” asked Patrick.

I pulled off my hoodie to reveal the tank top beneath and inspected my arm. Black and blue blossomed beneath the skin. “Just bruised from holding the door closed.”

Jack swore and reached for his cell. “The cops will want pictures.”

I held still as he snapped a series of photos.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked.

“No.”

“The alarm wasn’t on because people had been coming and going all day with the photo shoot,” said Patrick. “We need to be more careful. This cannot happen again. You cannot be in danger because of me.”

I just nodded.

“Norah, are you hungry or thirsty or anything?” asked Jack.

“No, thanks.” I slowly got to my feet. While no longer shaking, everything still felt off. Weak in a way. Guess it was all of the adrenaline now dissipating. “Think I’ll go to bed. I want to lie down for a bit.”

“Good idea,” said Patrick, picking me up. And hell, he could cart me around like a baby if it made him happy. Today at least. Down the hallway we went, straight past my room and into his. There he deposited me carefully on the bed.

“I can stay in my own room.”

“Do you really want to?” he asked.

The same room where she’d cornered me and promised to carve out my heart. Maybe not. I settled in, stuffing a pillow under my head, crawling beneath the blankets. Half hidden beneath good-quality linens was a wonderful place to be when things got rough.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Jack’s still here,” I said. “He thinks we’re together. I should probably sleep in here anyway.”

“Actually, he knows.” Patrick stood at the end of the big bed with his arms crossed. “So does Cole. I told them when we were out last night.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I don’t know, I just . . . lying to them didn’t sit right with me.” He stared off at nothing for a moment. “Cole asked me again to pass on his number.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. He wouldn’t shut up about you. I tried to hit him, but I was drunk so I missed.”

“Probably for the best.” I smiled. “He only does it to annoy you.”

“Hmm.”

I yawned, my jaw cracking. It was barely dark outside. “What a day.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, Norah.” His forehead furrowed. “This should never have happened.”

“Who could have imagined being your girlfriend would be quite this exciting?” The push and pull of fear and exhaustion sucked. I didn’t know which way was up and which was down. “I need to call Gran. God only knows what the new reports are saying.”

“I’ll do it. You rest.”

What a good idea. “I’m just going to close my eyes for a minute.”

“Okay,” said Patrick softly.

“You’ll be here, right?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” To further demonstrate the point, he took a seat on one of the couches in his bedroom’s sitting area and pulled out his cell.

And that was the last thing I knew for hours.

“Hey, Norah. It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t okay. That much I definitely knew. So I kicked and struggled against the hands trying to hold me. Someone grunted in pain and a low light suddenly flooded the room.

I pushed my hair out of my eyes and blinked repeatedly against the brightness.

Patrick’s face was turning the most interesting shade of pink.

“What happened?” I asked.

“You were having a nightmare,” he answered in a tight voice.

“Oh.” I watched as he grimaced and clutched at some part of his lower extremities under the blankets. The man seemed to be in serious pain. Meanwhile, my brain was doing a fine job of catching up as slowly as possible. “Someone was chasing me and their hands were sharp as knives. Kind of like Freddy Krueger.”

“Right,” he said, pulling a pained face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, Precious.” He took a breath. “When you were fighting it out with Freddy you accidentally nailed me in the balls with your knee.”