Who else would get hurt because of Saskia?
She glanced at Cam and swallowed. He’d made it clear he couldn’t be with her, and here he was, dragged back into her mess.
They headed up the stairs. At the top, lost in her thoughts, she barely took in the kickass industrial vibe of the warehouse office.
She felt too sick.
She needed to go. She knew enough to disappear and lay low. Then Killian would help her.
“Saskia? Hey.” Cam was frowning at her. He touched her cheek.
She jerked back.
His green eyes darkened, and his frown deepened.
“Sorry,” she said. “I was just…thinking.”
“About what?”
“Everything.” She turned away. She needed time to make a plan, then she’d slip away.
“Saskia.” He gripped her arm. “You’re safe now. You don’t need to worry.”
“Cam, Savannah has a broken wrist. Mikhailov isn’t going to stop, is he? It’s not safe to be around me.”
That rugged face changed. His scar stood out on his cheek. “I’m going to make him stop.”
“Cam, you don’t have to do this.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He took her hand, then dragged her past several glass-walled offices.
She saw Saxon in one, on the phone. Rome in another, sitting at the desk, staring at his computer screen.
Cam towed her into a room that contained a bunk and shelving full of medical supplies. He closed the door.
“Sit,” he ordered, opening a small fridge.
Saskia sat. All the nice, new clothes she’d bought were gone. She sighed.
Cam brought an ice pack over and pressed it to the side of her face.
“It doesn’t feel too bad,” she said quietly.
“Does anything else hurt?”
She hesitated. He’d already done so much. “It’s fine, Cam. Go. Do whatever you need to do.”
He pressed his hands either side of her hips on the bunk. He leaned close, his face right at hers. The look in his eyes made her belly clench.
“Things have changed. I’m keeping you safe, and that’s not up for negotiation.”
Her heart thumped. All she could do was nod.
For now. She was still going to go. She’d call Wolf and arrange something.
“Now, what else hurts?” Cam demanded.
“My knee. It needs ice, too.”
“Okay, boots and jeans off, sweetheart.”
God, she loved hearing the sweet endearment in that deep, gruff voice.
While he got another ice pack, she pulled her boots off and her small socks. She winced. She hated a guy seeing her feet. Ballet dancers did not have pretty feet. Hers were covered in calluses and healing blisters. She shucked her jeans off and sat on the bunk. Her knee was a little swollen, but it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared.
But she was going to have to face the fact soon that her bum knee was going to cause problems with her dancing. She bit her lip. One problem at a time, Saskia.
Cam came back and knelt in front of her. She felt a flush of heat in her face since she was only in panties and her sweater.
He’s seen it, Saskia.
He pressed the ice pack to her knee. She pulled in a breath at the cold, while still holding the other one to her face.
His fingers touched her skin, and she fought back a shiver.
His brow creased. “Did you hurt your feet?” He touched her ankle.
“No. Don’t look.” She tried to pull her foot away.
He gripped her ankle tightly and touched her toes.
“The downside of years of pointe shoes,” she said. “Ugly feet.”
“They’re not ugly.” He met her gaze. “They’re a sign of your strength and dedication.”
She blushed. And wished, yet again, that she could have this man.
There was a knock on the door. Cam straightened and Vander strode in.
“Doing all right, Saskia?”
She nodded, trying not to care about the fact that she was in her panties. “Thanks to you guys.” Then her gaze dropped to the department store bags in Vander’s hands. “My shopping!”
Vander dumped the bags on the floor. “I think we recovered most of it.”
“Mikhailov’s guy?” Cam asked.
“In a holding cell. We’re planning to ask him a few questions.”
“I want in on that.”
Cam’s dark tone made Saskia shiver. And worry.
“Figured you would,” Vander replied.
Cam swiveled. He touched her injured cheek. “Stay here. I’ll be back soon. If you need a drink, the kitchen is stocked.”
She nodded.
“I’ll be back,” he said again.
“Okay.” He’d be back because he saw her as an obligation. “I’ll take it easy until then.”
She watched him stride out with Vander.
Saskia let out a shuddering breath. Once the ice packs turned warm, she redressed. She wondered if Mikhailov’s goon had anything useful to share. She chewed on her lip.
She’d taken up enough of Camden’s time and energy. Killian and the Sentinel Security team could keep her safe until Mikhailov lost interest.
She decided to leave the shopping bags. She’d get them later.
She threw her scarf over her shoulder and exited the medical room. No one looked her way. The other Norcross employees were all busy at their desks.
She hurried toward the front of the building. She’d check that the street was clear, then head out, find somewhere safe where she could borrow a phone and call Sentinel.
“Saskia?”
She looked up. A couple had just entered the building. The beautiful blonde woman wore a fitted gray dress. Her hair was in an elegant twist, and there was concern on her face.
“Harlow,” Saskia said.
She’d met the woman at Savannah’s art show. A man appeared behind her.
He was handsome with a rugged, “in charge” edge. He was wearing a tailored Brioni suit. Easton Norcross was Vander’s older brother and Harlow’s fiancé.
Harlow touched Saskia’s arm. “We heard what happened. It’s so terrible. How are you holding up?”
“I’m good, thanks. Still wrapping my head around it all.”
“I can only imagine.” Harlow pulled Saskia in for a hug.
It felt nice. Harlow’s sweet perfume was comforting.
“Thanks. Are you here to see Vander? I think he’s—” she swallowed “—downstairs questioning a guy.”
“We’ll find him.” Easton nodded, watching her with sharp blue eyes that saw too much. “You’re going to be fine. No one here will let anything happen to you.”
“I know. Thanks, Easton. It’s good to see you both.”
She waited until the couple headed off, and then walked toward the front door. She willed herself to walk slowly and stay calm. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She wasn’t a prisoner and she could leave whenever she wanted.
She stared out the glass panel beside the door, scanning the street.
There were a few people on the sidewalk, cars driving past. She took her time to look for anyone who didn’t belong.
She hesitated. This was best for everyone. She pushed the door open. She’d taken two steps outside when—