Chapter 8Rafael threw on his shirt and watched helplessly as Ashton struggled to get up and pull up his pants. As seconds went by and the door didn’t open, he calmed. “Maybe it isn’t Megan.”
Ashton shrugged. “Could be Dale, though he normally calls before dropping by. He said he’d call as soon as he knew anything about the processing of the apartment.” He frowned and limped toward the hallway, the red scars on his torso a stark contrast to his pale skin. Worry welled up inside of Rafael. He could’ve died falling out a window. He hadn’t asked any questions, the images his brain provided were bad enough.
Ashton unlocked the door and opened it. There was no one there. As Rafael came up behind him, Ashton turned to look at him. “Strange. I didn’t take that long to get to the door, did I?”
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