I take a step toward my car, willing my legs to move after the bastard, but he’s already gone. Too quick this time. My hands flex at my sides, itching for another chance. There’ll be one. There always is.
The sound of a door opening snaps my attention back to the house. A woman stands framed in the doorway, barefoot in leggings and an oversized hoodie, her hair loose around her face. She’s a picture of fury and fear, every muscle taut, her expression daring me to make the first move.
Mia.
My heart lurches in my chest. Damon sent me the address, no picture, but it has to be her. Even dressed like this, she’s breathtakingly beautiful. I feel my heart stutter, something I haven’t felt in years now.
“Who are you?” she demands, her voice sharp as a blade. “Why are you outside my house?”
Her eyes are locked on mine, like she’s deciding whether to slam the door or grab a weapon. Can’t say I’d blame her for doing either. I keep my posture loose and my hands visible, though every instinct screams at me to scan the street again.
“Zane Williams,” I say, keeping my voice level. “Damon sent me.”
The name seems to strike her like a blow, but she recovers quickly, her jaw tightening.
“Good thing, too,” I add, “considering your ex just tried to put a rock through your window.”
Her face pales, the mask of anger slipping for just a second before she steadies herself, steel sharpening her spine. “Jason,” she says, and it’s not a question.
“Yeah. Came by in his Land Rover. Took off when I stepped in.” I jerk my thumb toward the street. “He’s testing the waters. Seeing how close he can get.”
“Damon gave me no indication he already sent someone,”, her voice clipped. Her gaze flicks to my car, to the street, anywhere but me, like she’s piecing the night together in real time.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I can be as quiet as a ghost. You won’t even know I’m here.”
“That’s not the point. This isn’t how this works. I don’t want to be kept out of the loop when my daughters’ lives are at stake.”
I kind of see why she would react like this. I’m not a parent, never thought of myself as one, but I get the protectiveness.
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“This isn’t babysitting.” My voice drops, cool and firm. “It’s protection that you already agreed to. There’s a difference, and if tonight didn’t prove that, I don’t know what will.”
She doesn’t say anything but I can see her shaking. My gut twists. The last thing I want to do is make her uncomfortable. I take a step towards her. “I’m sorry Damon didn’t tell you I would be here, frankly neither of us thought it necessary and that was clearly an oversight on us. ”
She stares at me, fury simmering just beneath the surface, but I can see the fear there, too, tightly leashed. The kind of fear Jason counts on. Preys on.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to duty.”
Finally, she exhales sharply, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fine,” she says, though the word sounds more like a surrender than an agreement. “But at least let me clean those cuts,” she says, stepping forward. “Before they get infected.”
I should refuse. Every rule I’ve ever followed in this line of work says not to blur the lines, to keep things professional. But there’s something in her eyes—determination mixed with a compassion I don’t deserve—that roots me to the spot. She’s not asking; she’s already decided.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them. My voice comes out softer than I intended. Professional, sure, but not cold.
She hesitates as if surprised by my response, then gestures for me to follow. I trail behind her, stepping into her house for the first time.
CHAPTER 5
MIA
As I leadZane to the kitchen, the first aid kit trembles in my hands, its metal edges clinking against my fingertips. Every instinct I have is screaming at me for letting another military man into my space, for allowing someone like him—big, imposing, and clearly dangerous—to sit at my kitchen table. And he has to be a military man if Damon sent him here.
They’re not all the same, I think to myself. But the nurse in me overrides the fear. Those cuts need cleaning, and he did just stop Jason from attacking my house.
“Did you say something?” Zane asks, almost as if he can hear my thoughts.
I quickly shake my head. He would think I’m insane.
