“What are you talking about? I haven’t dated anyone else.”
“What about Luke Stetson? You always seem to find a reason to run into him.”
“No.” How did he even know about Luke? Then I realized how Dallas had kept tabs on me. “The photos? That was you?” No wonder he was so good with a camera.
“That’s how I found you that night and saved you from that man. I followed you to take more pictures. And you repaid my love by spending time with that dirtbag lawyer.”
“No. It’s not what you think.” I shook my head. I needed to stay calm, but I could hear the hysteria underlying the soft tones of my voice. I needed to come up with something quick. “I was consulting Luke about a potential lawsuit. Sylvia threatened to sue my business over her stolen wedding dress.”
“I saw you. The way you looked at him. Smiled at him. Laughed with him. Wanted him.” Each word came out heavy, punctuated with pained emotion, and he moved closer. The knife in his hand jerked back and forth as if he were warring within himself whether to stab me or slice me.
I did not want to die in my bathroom. Or any place, for that matter. I needed to keep moving. Deciding on a new approach, I stepped toward him. “If you really love me, you should trust me. I was scared when I saw this ring, but I understand now. Every moment I’ve spent with you has made me feel more alive.” I made one small movement toward him. His throat constricted, and he swallowed. We stood in the doorway of the bathroom.
“Could we sit on my bed for a minute?”
“Why?” He glanced at the bed and then back at me.
“Because every time you kiss me, it makes me go weak in the knees. I thought you’d noticed.”
His lips twitched. I forced myself not to look at the knife in his hand.
“I want you to hold me again, Dallas. Make me feel safe.”
He hesitated, and I took another step toward my bed. When he didn’t stop me, I continued forward. I patted the quilt and held up my left hand. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you. I was scared because I didn’t think it could be true.”
Dallas studied me, and I kept my eyes focused on his, refusing to look at the knife. His eyes narrowed. Something rubbed up against my legs. I heard a meow and jumped back. “Oh, it’s just you, Tux.”
“You have a cat?” Dallas looked at Tux and then glared at me. “Where has he been?”
“He hangs out in my laundry room. He sleeps a lot, but he usually finds me around now to fill up his food dish.” I tried to keep from rambling as I struggled for an explanation.
I knew exactly where Tux had come from—the patio. Someone must have opened the sliding glass door, and I needed to alert that person that we were in the bedroom and Dallas had a knife. I prayed that it was Tony.
“You said you were going to kiss me, but I’m worried about that knife. Could you please put it down?” I emphasized the word knife as loudly as I dared. Dallas studied me for a moment, and I saw his biceps quiver as he clenched the knife tighter.
“I tried to convince her. I didn’t want to—but it was the only way to save her.” The side of his face twitched.
My body was shaking, and my breaths were shallow. I glanced at the knife and directly into his eyes. “You killed Briette, but you don’t have to kill me.”
Dallas pressed his lips together and closed the distance between us. He held the blade near my throat. “I loved her.”
“Dallas, please don’t do this.” My ears perked up at the sound of the creaky floorboard in my hallway. Someone was there to save me, but how could they when Dallas held me at knifepoint?
I could feel the cool metal against my skin, and I struggled to hold perfectly still. He narrowed his eyes, pressing the flat edge of the blade down my throat toward my collarbone.
“I love you,” he said and flicked the tip of the knife downward. A stinging sensation ran across my chest. Pain sparked up my throat. I screamed and fell back on the bed at the same moment Luke sprang forward. He clubbed Dallas across the head with my Mag flashlight. Dallas stumbled forward and fell to his knees.
I pressed a hand to my wound. Blood trickled over my fingers and onto my shirt as I moved to the far side of my bed. My chest throbbed, and the knife wound seeped dark red. I grabbed my running shorts off the bed and put pressure on the cut.
“You’re hurt.” Luke’s eyes widened in fear as he approached me. Dallas brandished the knife as he struggled to stand. Luke hit him again with the flashlight, and the skin above Dallas’s brow split. Blood trickled down his face as he staggered forward. Luke kicked Dallas on the side of his knee and his leg buckled. The knife fell to the floor as Dallas collapsed with a grunt. His head hit the side of my dresser as he fell. Luke kicked him again, but Dallas didn’t move. “I think he’s out.”
A cry escaped my throat. I lifted one of my hands from the cut on my chest and pointed toward the blood dripping from Dallas’s hairline. My other hand felt tingly, and I dropped my blood-soaked running shorts. Luke grabbed a washcloth and held it against the wound on my chest. I winced and felt the room spin. “I think I’m gonna pass out.”
“Hold on. We need to get you to the hospital.” Luke cradled me in his arms, lifting me off the bed and heading for the door. “I’m sorry. I came as fast as I could. I didn’t know what to do when I
