Despite not being able to see the stairs, Dax practically sprints down them, and we spill out onto the street, no response from Vasquez. “Somewhere public. Lots of people. Do you see anything?” He tightens his fingers around my elbow, the pressure keeping me focused.
“There’s…a bar across the street.”
“Get us there. Vasquez, where the fuck are you?”
Two steps away from the dimly-lit bar, Dax stops. “Thank fuck. We’re across the street. Get to the car. We’ll meet you there.”
Wrapping his arm around me, he buries his face against my neck and takes a deep breath. “He’s on his way. Someone jumped him and started beating the crap out of him until a store owner yelled for the cops.”
I can’t believe this is happening. Someone might have died in Kyle’s apartment. One of my bodyguards was just attacked, and I’m carrying an answering machine. An answering machine. This is my life now? Why?
Dax helps me into the back seat of the SUV and holds me close. “No more going anywhere but work and my place,” he mutters under his breath as Vasquez guns the engine and peels away from the curb. The junior bodyguard with the smile and slight accent has a busted lip, a rapidly swelling eye, and he groaned as he got into the car.
All because of me. And some mystery Kyle got himself involved in that threatens to kill us both.
My eyes burn, and—keeping the notebook and answering machine tucked between us—I hold onto Dax like my life depends on it. Because right now, I think it does.
Dax
Stupid. How could you have been so stupid?
In my arms, Evianna shudders once, and I rub her back. After we get back to my place, we’re not leaving until we find this asshole.
“I’m sorry, boss,” Vasquez says from the front seat. “I don’t know when he doubled back behind me. The first hit caught me in the lower back. Then he started in on my head. If that deli owner hadn’t started shouting…”
“After Ford gets back, you’re going through surveillance training again.” The SUV wavers, like Vasquez just flinched with his hands on the wheel. Shit. I need to be better at dealing with people. “You didn’t screw up, Vasquez. Anyone who can hide from Wren for more than an hour is a pro. Call Ronan and have him relieve you. Make an anonymous call about a loud fight inside Kyle’s apartment so the police investigate the blood—and the break-in—then get yourself patched up. We’re not leaving my place tonight.”
The Land Rover coasts to a stop. “We’re right in front of your door, boss. You want me to walk you up?”
“No. Just wait here until Ronan shows up. Make sure your comms are on, and stay alert.” Unfolding my cane, I climb out of the back seat, then hold out my hand for Evianna’s. Her fingers are chilled and stiff, but freesia surrounds me as she presses to my side.
An odd scent lingers in the stairwell. One I’ve smelled before. It gets stronger the closer we get to my apartment. “Evianna, stay behind me.”
“What is it?”
“Maybe nothing.” Yeah, right. And I’m the Easter Bunny. Outside my door, I pause and listen. Everything’s quiet. Running my fingers over the door jamb, I don’t feel any signs of forced entry, but there weren’t any obvious ones at Kyle’s either.
The rasp of my key is loud enough to make me cringe, and I extend my arm to protect Evianna as I shove the door open. Wood cracks against wood. I sweep my cane across the carpet, and hit something. Something that shouldn’t be there.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Voice Assist: Walkie-talkie mode. Vasquez, get up here right now.” I turn and wrap my arm around Evianna’s shoulders and rush her back towards the stairwell.
“Where are we—? Oh God. Your apartment,” she whispers as she casts a glance over her shoulder. “How did they even find you?”
Vasquez’s heavy foot steps pound up the stairs. “Boss?”
“My apartment’s been compromised. Clear it.” As Vasquez draws his gun and flips the safety off, Evianna gasps. “It’ll be all right, darlin’.”
“No. They found me here. Or…they found you. And I don’t know which is worse.”
I rest my forehead against hers as Vasquez confirms my apartment’s empty. “Neither do I.”
21
Dax
Between Vasquez and Evianna, I have a pretty good idea what my apartment looks like. It’s a fucking disaster. The only place I ever feel completely in control, and now…I can’t take more than three steps without stumbling over the broken pieces of my life scattered around me.
Somewhere in my periphery, Vasquez says, “Get here as soon as you can.” Then, a moment later, “Ronan’s on his way, boss. You sure we shouldn’t bring the cops in?”
