I owe him.
And he’s been dead for a month, so that debt shifts to his next of kin. His daughter.
I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her. I’ll burn down the world if I have to.
That’s enough for me.
The rest can wait until she’s out of here alive.
The older woman steps forward like she’s going to hug Sierra, then thinks better of it and settles for smoothing her hair back like she’s five years old.
“You call me if you need anything,” she tells her. “You hear me?”
Sierra’s eyes shine. “I will.”
The woman looks up at me. The flirt drains out of her face, replaced by something sharp.
“You keep her safe,” she says.
It’s not a request.
It’s a warning.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer, and I mean it.
Sierra’s mouth quirks like she’s surprised by the “ma’am.” Like she’s surprised I can be polite.
I move first, because hesitation gets people hurt.
“Stay close,” I tell Sierra. “Do exactly what I say.”
She gives a tight nod.
We step into the hallway.
The building smells like old carpet and somebody’s laundry detergent. The walls are thin, the lighting dim, the kind of place where you can hear a neighbor sneeze and tell which direction it came from.
I scan the corridor, quick and practiced. Corners. Stairwell. Elevator.
Nothing obvious.
But obvious isn’t the problem. The problem is the thing you don’t see until it’s too late.
“Gray,” I say quietly.
“I’m here,” Gray says. “I’ve got traffic cams. Front is clear. No one lingering by your truck. Move.”
“Copy.”
Sierra walks like she’s trying to be silent, like sound alone might get her caught. Her shoulder brushes mine for half a second and she jerks like she didn’t mean to.
God.
She is pretty. That’s not the right word for her. Pretty is gentle. Pretty is safe.
She’s… stunning in a way that makes a man forget his own name.
And she looks like she hasn’t exhaled in weeks.
