Free Through Her Eyes by Amber Morgan Page B

not wanting to wake Dylan.
Trepidation filled her, heart fluttering as she saw unknown number flashing on the screen. She hovered between rejecting the call and answering.
    You can't let the past control you , she told herself, and answered
before she lost her nerve. "Hello?" she whispered, hurrying back to
the kitchen.
    "Keira? Is this Keira Swanson? It's
Detective Abbott – Dom."
    The air froze in her lungs, words stuck in her throat.
Her heart went into overdrive, slamming adrenaline through her. Oh no, no,
no...
    "Keira? Are you there?"
    She swallowed hard, wet her dry lips, and forced
herself to speak. "Dom." Her knees gave out
and she sat down hard in Dylan's desk chair. "Dom. I...It's...."
    "It's been a while," he finished for her,
his raspy smoker's voice soft, careful. "How are you, Keira?"
    How to answer? It was too much to think it was
coincidence that he would call now after her...nightmare. "I'm...I'm not
great, Dom." She'd never been able to lie to him. There was just something
about him that pulled the truth from her every time. She could picture him now,
probably hunched over a black coffee, cigarette in hand, dark eyes piercing,
but kind. "I didn't sleep well."
    "I didn't think you had." There was a long
pause, and Keira imagined him taking a drag on his cigarette, measuring his
words. He needn't have bothered. She knew what he was going to say next.
"A girl died last night in Shoreditch."
    Her stomach turned. "I know," she whispered.
"I saw."
    He sighed heavily, as if he'd been hoping she'd say
something else. "I think we should meet, Keira. We should talk."
     

Chapter Two
     
    "So this "old friend" of yours,"
Dylan said, watching her pack her suitcase. "Anyone I know?"
    She glanced over her shoulder at him, dredging up a
smile. "No, like I said, I haven't seen him for years."
    "And yet, out of the blue, he calls and you're
off to London at the drop of a hat." Dylan leaned in the doorway of the
bedroom, blue eyes narrowed. "Must have been a really
close friend."
    His tone bit at her. She dropped the jeans she'd been
holding and straightened up to face him. "I don't have to explain
myself," she said, sharper than she'd intended. Dom's call had triggered a
surge of dark memories, bad feelings. She fought them now, not wanting to pick
a fight with Dylan.
    "I'm not asking you to!" He held up his
hands defensively. "You always say you hate London, but suddenly, for no
reason, you're dropping everything to rush there. And after last night, I'm
worried about you. Is that okay?"
    She sat down on the bed, rubbing her ribs. Where to
start? She knew she was acting strangely, but this wasn't how she'd planned to
tell him her story. Well, hell, she hadn't planned to ever tell him. He was her
friend, not her keeper. But his concern was genuine and he didn't deserve her
bad temper.
    "You know I told you I was mugged?" she
said, staring at the carpet. "In London?"
    "Yeah." He sat down on the other side of
the suitcase. "You were walking home from a club, right?"
    "Right." She nodded. "Yeah, except it
wasn't just a mugging." She closed her eyes, hot and sick but determined
to tell the whole story now she'd started.
    ****
    “You really should get a taxi
home,” Jo told Keira, worry thick in her voice. Keira waved her friend off.
    “My place is ten minutes from here.
I'm not wasting the money!”
    The two girls stood outside their
favorite bar, a tiny cocktail bar in Soho, watching other drinkers head to new
watering holes. It was past midnight and a light, misty rain was falling. Keira
hugged her jacket tighter around herself, shivering. It wasn't really a case of
not wanting to waste money. She didn't have any to waste in the first place. Jo
had been buying the drinks all night, and all Keira had left was a few quid.
    “Keira, you've seen the bloody
news,” Jo said. “There's some madman out there—”
    “Ten minutes’ walk and I'm home,
safe and sound,” Keira said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear