Langston scanned the parking lot with the vigilance of a security professional assessing threat levels.
“You’re moving to my office. This is not negotiable,” he said; his words left no room for negotiation.
“What?” I blinked at him, not processing.
“Your workspace. You’re not staying in the basement alone anymore. We’ll move your things now.” He stood, offering his hand to help me up.
I stared at his outstretched hand for a moment before taking it, allowing him to pull me to my feet. His palm was warm and dry against my clammy skin, the contact brief but steadying.
“What about the staff meeting?—”
“Tamika can handle it. This takes priority.” Langston cut me off, already pulling out his phone to text her.
Twenty minutes later, we entered his office. I carried files, while he carried my computer tower. The contrast between my basement dungeon, with its artificial lighting and concrete floors, versus his sunlit sanctuary with its wall of windows, polished wooden desk, and actual living plants was crazy. The basement wasn’t bad after my improvements, but this … this was what success looked like.
Langston motioned to a small desk in the corner that definitely wasn’t there yesterday. He must have had it brought in while we were gathering my things. “We’ll set you up here. It’s not much, but?—”
“It’s perfect,” I interrupted, setting down my armload of files. The desk was positioned with a clear view of both the door and the windows, but most importantly, it was barely ten feet from Langston’s own workspace. Close enough that anyone entering would have to get past him to reach me.
“I had IT bring up a newer computer. This dinosaur belongs in a museum, not a modern office. We’ll have them transfer your files,” he continued, setting the tower beside the desk.
The casual joke, the first he’d made since I arrived three weeks ago, brought a surprised smile to my face. “Hey, the dinosaur and I have bonded. We understand each other’s outdated operating systems.”
A smile flickered across his face before he returned to business mode. “I’ll have security check the building cameras, see if we can identify anyone suspicious. When did you first notice these … gifts?”
“The first crane on my windshield was last night. Then another inside my desk this morning. I should have said something right away, but I thought maybe I was overreacting.” I busied myself arranging my meager office supplies on the new desk, avoiding his eyes.
“You weren’t. This is stalking, Aven, across international borders, which makes it even more serious,” Langston said firmly.
The matter-of-fact way he said it, no judgment, no suggestion I’d brought this on myself, loosened something tight in my chest. For months, I’d carried this fear alone, second-guessing my own reactions, wondering if I was making mountains from origami cranes.
“We’ll need to file a police report, and I want you to document everything, when you first met him, all the incidents you can remember, descriptions, and dates if possible,” he continued, moving to his desk and pulling out a legal pad.
I nodded, sinking into the chair at my new desk. It was ergonomic and adjustable, unlike the folding metal contraption from the basement. “Thank you for believing me … for not thinking I’m crazy.”
Langston looked up from his notes, and his eyes met mine directly. “I know what it’s like not to be believed, Aven, to have people assume the worst about you based on circumstantial evidence. I owe you this and more.” Our shared past hovered between the day with the sheriff, my lie that saved his future.
I replied automatically. “You don’t owe me anything, the envelope you left?—”
“Was a fraction of what I owe you, and this isn’t about debts anyway. This is about keeping you safe,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.
His simple declaration covered me like a blanket. Safe. When was the last time I felt truly safe? Definitely before Leo. Not since high school, sitting on Langston’s grandparents’ porch swing, watching summer storms while he pointed out lightning strikes and told me about the weather book he’d checked out from the library.
I looked around the sunlit office, taking in the clear sight lines to the entrance and the solid presence of Langston Black at his desk, a man who understood protection on a fundamental level.
My shoulders relaxed for the first time in longer than I could remember, and the constant vigilance I’d maintained eased slightly. Leo was still out there, a threat. I no longer had to face him alone. I had Langston in my corner again, just like when we were younger.
“Now, tell me everything you can remember about this guy— full description, habits, patterns. Leave nothing out,” Langston noted, oblivious to my emotional revelation, as he reached for a pen.
I nodded, straightening in my new chair, my hands no longer shaking. “His full name is Leonardo Morales. I met him outside the San Francisco Church in Lima three months into my trip…” I explained, the words coming easier now.
Chapter
Six
LANGSTON
It had been a week since I moved Aven into my office, and I swear to God, the woman was going to be the death of me. My domain had been invaded, and I couldn’t stop watching her.
