I'm ruminating on that fact as a knock comes at the door.
My heart races, but when I realize it can’t be Koen because he doesn’t knock, I smirk and relax a little.
The knock comes again, this time louder.
Jesus, I’m coming.
Tightening the tie around my robe, I open the door.
A tall man in a black suit and dark sunglasses stands on my porch, looking like something out of a Men in Black movie.
I swallow. “Can I help you?”
“Greer Allen?” he asks.
“Depends on who’s asking.”
He grins. “I can see why he likes you.”
He?
I assume the man means Koen, so I straighten and steel my nerves. I don’t know what kind of relationship I’m in with the enigmatic killer who talked me through an orgasm through hidden cameras last night, but I’m not about to tell this man anything and get in deeper with said killer, either.
“I’m Agent Helms. I wanted to speak to you about Koen Grady and your association with him.”
“There is no association. He kidnapped me and held me hostage, and stalked me for two years before that. I’m recovering from the ordeal, if I’m honest. So, I’m not too keen on speaking about him.”
His brows furrow as if he’s considering whether he should believe me or not. “Be that as it may, I think you’re a lot closer to him than you’re letting on or even realize.”
“Sir, I have work in a few hours, and I’m nursing a decent hangover. Can you leave a card so that I can come to your office later on when I’m feeling better?” I admit, hoping he’ll see the human aspect of me, not being a name in some fucking file, and leave me alone so I can tell Koen about him coming.
Although if Koen has me on camera in the house, it might be a smart idea to let him inside…
“If you’ll just give me a moment of your time, I’ll be out of your hair,” he argues, this time standing taller.
“Fine. But come in, it’s muggy out this morning, and it’s getting in the house.”
Agent Helms looks apprehensive before he steps inside, like he knows Koen is watching.
Looking around when Bear growls at him, the Agent steps back towards the closed door.
“He’s in his crate. He can’t hurt you,” I tell him, heading toward the kitchen where a pot of coffee should be done brewing and on warm.
“Hell of a choice in dogs.”
“Well, when you live alone in the sticks, you have to protect yourself, and I don’t like guns.” Removing the coffee pot from the warmer, I pour out two mugs. “You take cream?”
Agent Helms looks away from Bear’s snarls in the other room, eyeing where I’m hovering the creamer bottle over the mug meant for him. “Oh, yes. Lots. Thank you.”
I nod, dumping the same amount of cream I add to my coffee for the agent, then capping it and placing it back in the fridge.
I hand him his mug and sit across from him at the table, careful not to let my robe open.
My eyes itch to scan the room for any blinking lights or camera shine so that I know Koen’s watching, but you never know he’s present until he wants you to.
“So, tell me what you need to know,” I start.
He sips his coffee. “This is very good, thank you. I need to know anything you know as to Koen’s whereabouts.”
