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CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
The fucking closet.
That was the best she could come up with?
Fuck!!
Ryder wanted to pull the woman lying in his bed into his arms and shake her senses back.
She wouldn't be out like a night light if she'd called the cops first before texting him or after, at that, and if she'd stayed out of the damned closet.
He should have no business worrying about her, because this was the point right, to hurt her father by hurting her?
But his heart had missed a beat when he'd found her in her closet, eyes shut and struggling to breath instead and there was that fisting somewhere in his thorax as he watched her sleep it off.
He wasn't sure which it had been, a panic attack, claustrophobia or a panic attack initiated by claustrophobia.
She hasn't said anything to him since he found her, except murmuring his name at intervals like
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