“I went to the police,” she recalls. “I had a log of the messages, the photos… but they said the numbers were from burner phones. So there was no way to trace them. And honestly… I don’t think they wanted to help me. Not really. Ken’s really well known, he even worked on Broadway for a while. So he has a lot of clout. And I… don’t.”
Because of her boss’s influence in the industry, Noelle’s so-called friends turned their backs on her, too. Maybe some of them believed her, maybe not. But none of them were willing to put their necks out to help her—whether it was finding a new job, trying to find new evidence to show the police, or offering a place to stay when she couldn’t afford the rent on her city apartment anymore.
“Jaz would have,” Noelle clarifies. “She would have gone ballistic on Ken. But it could have hurt her career. She’s workedso hard to get where she is… I couldn’t take the chance. So I just told her I’d quit, but I’d find something new soon. And she’s in Manhattan, so she doesn’t really know about the theater scene out here. She wouldn’t have heard the rumors about me.”
A month on, Noelle was jobless, friendless, on the verge of having to leave her apartment, and receiving harassing messages and photos from Ken almost every day. But the last straw was the night someone broke into her apartment and left a photo of her sitting on the dining room table.
Certain the police would finally help, Noelle called them again. But instead, they claimed there was no evidence of a break-in, and one asshole officer even accused her of fabricating the whole story so she could post about it on social media. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone lied to go viral,” he told her. “You want to be famous, go ahead. But don’t waste police resources, and don’t lie about innocent men to do it.”
I’m about two seconds from tracking Ken Donaldson down and beating the shit out of him by the time Noelle’s story winds down. Her head hanging low, she stares at the floor as she finishes with, “I couldn’t stay in Portland anymore. I couldn’t afford it, and honestly, I was scared. So I started looking for someplace affordable to live. Then I remembered driving through Williston a few years ago, and I thought it seemed nice. This apartment was available, and the job at the diner… so—” She shrugs. “It seemed like fate was sending me a message.”
Though I’m beyond furious at everything she just told me, I rely on my years of experience in the Army to keep my emotions locked down. For now. But once I’m back at B and A, I fully intend to take my anger out on a punching bag in the gym.
For now, though, my priority is keeping calm and convincing Noelle that having Blade and Arrow help her is the best plan of action. So I take a few steadying breaths before I say, “Maybe it was. Fate, I mean.”
Noelle lifts her head to look at me. “Do you really think so?”
“I do.” And the more I think about it, the more certain I am. “First of all, you met me.” I flash her a little smile as I say it, hoping to put her more at ease. “So that’s a good thing.”
A glimmer of a smile moves across her face. “I suppose that’s true.”
“From my side of things, it’sdefinitelytrue.”
“I thought moving here was a good thing,” she says. “Meeting you, and finding this apartment, and I really like my job at the diner… it’s not the same as being a stage manager, but I like it.”
She sighs. “It was one thing when it was just the texts. But now… If he’s hacking into the TVs where I work, what’s next? What if he figures out how to put a video on the movie screen in town park next time? Or”—she shivers—“what if he breaks into my apartment again?”
My molars nearly grind to dust at the thought. “He’s not breaking into your apartment, Noelle. That’snothappening.”
Her worried gaze meets mine. “I know you made it safer, Webb. But there are always ways…”
“No.” My voice is firm. “There is no way that piece of shit is getting close to you again. I won’t allow it.”
“But—”
“I can take care of this. All of it.” Before Noelle can respond, I continue, “We’ll put extra security here. Twenty-four-hour surveillance. And I’ll be here for your protection. So if he even thinks—” I stop. “Actually, better yet, you can come stay at Blade and Arrow.”
Noelle frowns. “Webb. That seems?—”
“Not in my apartment. Not unless you want to. We have empty apartments we use for clients. So you could stay in one of those. They’re nice, just like mine except probably decorated better, since Eden took care of that part.”
“Webb.” Noelle grabs my hand. “I can’t afford twenty-four-seven surveillance. I’m not even sure I have a job anymore.”
“You have a job, I told you. But it doesn’t matter, because we wouldn’t charge you.”
“But—” Her forehead squinches up. “Security costs money. And you already bought new locks, and alarms for the windows. I can’t let you spend more money on me. Especially not something that big.”
Hurt niggles at me. “Don’t youwantmy help?”
“It’s not that. It’s just…” Regret darkens her gaze. “This is supposed to be the easy part of a relationship. The fun part. Not asking you to be my bodyguard because my boss won’t leave me alone. And that’s not even counting the expense.”
I’m struck by the irony of the situation. For as long as I can remember, I didn’t want complications. The fun, early days of a relationship were all I wanted. But now?
“I care about you,” I reply. “A lot. I hope you know that. And yeah, I like having fun with you. But that’s not all it is. I want to support you. Protect you. And you’re not asking me to do it. I’m offering.”
As Noelle opens her mouth to speak, I add, “The money isn’t an issue. I would pay if it came to that, but I don’t have to. My team does a lot of pro bono work—helping clients who need protection or investigative services but can’t afford them. We’d take care of everything.”
“I’m not sure,” she starts. “If I’m your client, I feel like that would make things weird between us. Assuming I haven’t scared you off with all my crap, that is.”
