Jake laughed, fond and familiar. Then he hung up without further comment on the gruff northerner waiting on me, thoughI knew he would watch over us until I made a conscious effort to shut him out.
Out of necessity, he had eyes on every aspect of my life, but I had ways of ensuring privacy. Steps I took the moment my heart made peace with the integrity of the loft-style apartment I kept in the old shoe factory.
I moved back to the door, cranking the heat as I passed the thermostat. Igniting the fireplace so the false flames danced on the plain walls.I do not like the cold.
Ranger was exactly where I’d left him, muscles flexed, one foot still in the corridor. “Clear?”
I nodded, beckoning him inside.
For a brief second, it seemed he would not come, and the madness of this encounter struck me. We were not friends. We were notfamily. And this was one of the only places on earth I could sleep with both eyes shut.
But I had not survived this life without thriving on jeopardy, and the slow smirk that returned to Ranger’s face as he shut the door behind him was payoff enough for the risk.
He handed me the bag I’d left at his feet. “Let me guess, full of grenades?”
“Clean clothes. Supplies. This way...” I directed him into the apartment—a one-bedroom flat that nonsensically housed two bathrooms. “You would like to shower?”
Ranger shrugged. Unbothered. “I can wait.”
“You do not have to.” I opened the bathroom door. “There is another in the bedroom. Use anything you need.”
I left him before he could answer, to give him space to decide if he was comfortable being naked and vulnerable in the home of a virtual stranger. We had spent a week in a concrete hole together and tonight we had fought side by side.
He killed a man to save my life.
That did not mean he trusted me.
It was an odd feeling to know that despite Jake’s warnings, I trusted Ranger enough to turn my back on him.
I moved to my bedroom. The bed was unmade, fresh linens in the hamper beneath... maybe. I could not actually remember and it wasn’t something that troubled me as I stood beneath the hot spray of the walk-in shower. My palms to the tiles, head bowed. If Ranger wished to end me, this was his moment.
Apparently, he did not. I survived the shower and dressed in the few clean clothes that had lived through the last month. Black cargo trousers that were old enough to hang loose at my hips. No socks. A T-shirt my sister’s children had bought me from the market by the sea. It was old too—faded and with holes in the hem. But I liked it. In my life, old things were rare.
I pulled the shirt over my head and padded out of the bedroom, my feet still damp, leaving footprints on the floor,extraordinarilyaware of Ranger’s presence in the flat. The steam from the other bathroom, the heat of it cloaking the air, and the sandalwood scent it left behind.
He’s in the living room.
I stepped through the archway.
He was lying on the rug, dressed in jeans—that was it—and rolling a joint with his tattooed fingers. “Can I smoke in here?”
“If you like.” I tossed him one of the oranges I had rescued from my bag. “I have pizza if you want more food.”
Ranger caught the orange. “Do I look like I’ve got fucking scurvy?”
He looked like many things. Strong. Masculine.
Beautiful.
He did not look sick or malnourished, but I assumed the question was not literal. “Is good for you.”
“I’ll take the pizza, thanks.”
He set the orange aside and went back to his joint. I retrieved the vodka from the freezer and turned on my neglected oven.
Back in the living room, I found Ranger smoking, tapping ash into an empty bottle as he lay on his stomach, studying the sound system built into the wall, the only truly personal touch to the apartment.
I handed him the vodka, eyeing the damp hair that was messily knotted at the nape of his neck, some locks already escaping to hang over a face that was now clean of blood. How was it possible that this man had grown more attractive in the five minutes we’d been apart? “There is a tablet on the shelf. It is connected to the music library.”
