First off, as soon as we pulled through the gate at the base of the long driveway, Webb explained, “It’s an unscalable fence,andreinforced, so nothing short of a tank can get through it. We have motion sensors and night-vision cameras all along the top, and they can distinguish between human and animal figures. So if an intruder approaches, we’ll know right away.”
Then, with a grim smile, he added, “Assuming anyone’s stupid enough to try to get in, they’re in for averyunpleasant surprise.”
Once we got inside, Webb took me on a full tour of the house, rather than just taking me through the communal living room and kitchen. On my last visit, he’d explained that while everyone has their own space, sometimes they like to gather for special events or to share a meal. “We do Christmas Eve together,” he explained. “And monthly team dinners. Plus, if someone’s celebrating, like when Rafe and Eden got married… it’s a nice spot to gather.”
Which it is. The living room is huge, with two-story windows and a vaulted ceiling, and it flows into an expansive kitchen and dining space. I can almost picture the Christmas tree in front of the window—a tall one, of course—all aglow with lights and a twinkling star at the top.
But today, he took meeverywhere. Down to the basement, where there’s a fully equipped gym and an actual shooting range for training—“I can teach you to shoot,” Webb offered—and then over to the fun side of the basement, which has a home theateranda two-lane bowling alley.
While we were down there, he made sure to show me the safe room with an underground passage out to the detached garage, explaining that the walls were blast-proof and how I’d be safe in there even if the rest of the house exploded. “The ladder goes up to another safe room on the first floor, in the dining room,” he told me. “So if you hear an alarm go off in the house, head to one of them right away.”
After that, he took me on a quick tour of the second and third floors, where all the apartments are. “You’d be in the apartment across from mine,” he said. “So if you need anything, I could be there in seconds.”
When Webb first brought up the idea of me staying here versus in my own apartment, I wasn’t sure. I kind of hedged and said I’d think about it. But as intimidating as all the security measures are—did I mention all the cameras and alarms installed all over the house, plus the windows, which are apparently bulletproof?—after spending the last three months jumping at shadows, they’re reassuring, too.
Although I’m notsuperthrilled about the cameras in the client apartment. Webb saw me staring at one in the living room and quickly reassured me, “We keep them off, Noelle. The only time we’d ever turn them on is in case of an emergency. No one will be recording you. I promise.”
And because I trust Webb, and because I reallydofeel safer when he’s around, when he asks me about staying at Blade and Arrow again, I think I’ll say yes.
But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m definitely feeling off balance and a little shaky after my official meeting with his team.
They were all nice, of course—not that I expected them not to be. But the smiles and jokes and easy-going demeanors were gone, replaced by grim expressions and tense postures and questions about things I was embarrassed to answer.
I understood why they were asking. Like Webb explained before we walked into the conference room, “We have to ask a lot of questions, Noelle. Some of them aren’t going to be pleasant. But the more information we have, the faster we can put an end to this.”
Still, understanding didn’t make it any better when I had to explain about the times I felt Ken’s gaze on my butt. Or how I could pinpoint the date a video was recorded from the bra I was wearing that day.
Nope. Telling my new boyfriend’s closest friends slash coworkers about my itchy blue bra was definitelynotsomething I’d ever imagined doing.
“Noelle, are you okay?”
Jerking my attention in the direction of Webb’s voice, I find him watching me with concern from halfway across the living room while I’m still standing by the front door of Webb’s apartment. The front door we came through I’m not sure how long ago, since apparently my brain decided thatnowwould be a good time to take a vacation.
But considering what I’ve been through the last few months, it seems fair. My poor brain—and rattled nerves, for that matter—deserve a break.
Taking a few hurried steps away from the door, I meet Webb where he’s standing. He slides his arm around my waist and gives my hip a little squeeze as I say, “Sorry. I just zoned out for a second. But I’m fine.”
His forehead creases. “Are you sure?”
I work my lips into a smile. “Yup. I’m sure. Everything’s good. Nothing to worry about.”
In a low, doubtful tone, he says, “Noelle.”
Hmm. What’s that saying from Shakespeare?Methinks thou doth protest too much?
And didn’t I decide, just a few hours ago, that I was going to be upfront with Webb about everything that’s going on? If I’m sticking to that, I should probably tell him how I’m feeling instead of trying to hide it so he doesn’t worry.
“Okay,” I concede. “Maybe notfine. But I’m not bad either. I guess I’m just… somewhere in the middle.”
“Somewhere between fine and bad?” Webb frowns. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
Bypassing the couch in the living room, he leads me into the kitchen and over to one of the stools set around the island. “Take a seat,” he urges when I don’t immediately sit down.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “What if I don’twantto sit?”
Don’t ask me why I’m being difficult. I couldn’t explain it, aside from guessing that it stems from feeling off balance and anxious.
“Then you don’t have to,” he replies calmly. “I wasn’t trying—shit. Was I being bossy again?”
