He tilted the light to where the two women stood. They wore matching confused expressions.
“Yes.”
“Whatcha doing, bro?”
Mo pointed to Bronwyn’s sofa. “I’m staying right here until the power comes on.”
Meredith narrowed her eyes at him. “Is Gray behind this?”
“No, but he agreed with me. I didn’t like that whole situation with William. And the timing of that text Bronwyn received the other night with this outage? I don’t believe in coincidences. It’s unlikely that anyone would attempt to do anything now, but it’s not worth the risk. I’ll stay here and make sure you both make it to where you need to be in the morning. Assuming the power is back on and everything is working, Bronwyn and Landry should be safe in a public space with security cameras. And you”—he pointed to Meredith—“will be as safe as you ever are in town.”
He held up a hand as both women tried to talk. “As much as I would love to hear your objections, I think if you went to bed now instead of arguing with me, you’d get a solid ninety minutes in before the day begins.”
Bronwyn turned to Meredith. “Huh, I wasn’t going to object. I was going to say thank you.”
Meredith laced her arm through Bronwyn’s and turned them toward the hallway. “I say we leave him out here without blankets as penance for assuming the worst.” She lowered her voice. “Although,to be fair, I was going to share that I have a gun and don’t need any protection, so I don’t have an excuse for righteous indignation.”
Mo couldn’t help it. He laughed. Then yelled down the hall, “I knew it. Go to bed. Sleep.”
He waited to retrieve his laptop until he heard both bedroom doors close. Then he settled on the sofa. He hadn’t mentioned his own weapon, but it was in easy reach. Three minutes later, a door opened, and the sound of footsteps coming down the hall reached his ears.
He didn’t look up from his screen. “Mer, seriously, get some sleep.”
A fleece blanket dropped onto the sofa beside him, and he looked up in time to catch Bronwyn’s smile before she all but ran from the room.
He didn’t need a blanket. It was July. It wasn’t cold. But he picked it up and draped it over his lap anyway. It would have been rude not to. That was all.
Bronwyn slipped back into her room and forced her heart to slow down.
Mo Quinn was in her house, sitting in her living room and staying awake to protect her.
No big deal. Right?
She lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. Her room was too dark. The house was too quiet. And ... was that Mo tapping away at a keyboard?
How was she supposed to fall asleep?
But as she lay there, she found something soothing in the rhythmic sounds coming from her living room. Little reminders that she wasn’t alone.
That for tonight anyway, she was safe.
And she slept.
When her phone alarm went off at 7:00 a.m., Bronwyn lay in bed for a full minute, mentally reviewing her bank balance and investments. If she bought a ticket and moved to Spain, would anyone miss her? How long would it take to find work?
She spoke minimal Spanish, so that was a potential flaw in the plan. But the temptation was real.
How many days did she go through this ritual? The country changed. Sometimes it was Italy. Sometimes Chile. The British Isles were top contenders. But what would it be like to run away?
Her eyes filled with tears because she’d done that once.
And it had ruined everything.
Her running days were over. She was here. Was she trapped? Maybe. But was she making the best of it? In some ways, yes. In others? So much no.
With that warm and fuzzy thought, she climbed from bed and walked into her bathroom. It was only when she flipped the switch and nothing happened that memories from the night flooded back through her.
The cameras and listening devices in her office. The power outage. Meredith.
