“I don’t have a girlfriend, but if I did and she was the kind of woman who wouldn’t be okay with me bringing you home, then she wouldn’t be my girlfriend in the first place. Will your boyfriend be okay that you’re spending the night at another man’s place?”
“I don’t have one.”
Good. “Be right back.” I toss her stuff in the laundry closet, grab a pack of wipes from my kitchen drawer, and get her some water. I twist the cap off the bottle and sit on the coffee table in front of her while she drinks, clearly dehydrated.
She sets the empty bottle on the floor and looks quizzically at the wet wipes I’m holding out. “Thank you.”
“My niece, Mazie, comes over a lot,” I explain as she’s cleaning her hands. “And I give her a lot of candy.”
“I’m sure you do.” A tiny smile pulls at her lips, and it gets a tiny bit bigger when I grab the dirty wipes and throw them behind me. I lean over to grab a blanket, and she flinches, then immediately apologizes. “Sorry.”
“Just want to warm you up a bit.”
She turns her head, and her eyes close as I wrap the blanket around her shoulders. She’s embarrassed by her reaction, but I’m pissed off by it, and that’s exactly why she’s here. She knowsI’ll chase away whatever caused that unease. I’ll do everything possible to keep her safe. For her, I’ll do anything she asks.
“Your couch is cool.” She pokes the brown leather.
“I know.”
“I’m getting it wet.”
“I don’t care.” I look pointedly at the cut on her forehead. “What happened?”
I see the wheels turning in her mind, and I’m about to lose patience when she finally opens up. “I was running and fell and hit my head. I twisted my ankle at the same time.”
“Why were you running?”
“Because I didn’t know if I was being followed.”
My spine stiffens, and I sit up straighter. “Why would you think you’re being followed?”
“Well, see. I…” She huffs and says in the same breath, “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“I would never think that.”
“The cops didn’t believe me.”
Cops? “What the fuck happened, Annie?”
“So…” She twists her ring. “There have been a few times over the past year that I’ve had the feeling someone had been in my apartment and—”
“How many is a few?”
Her gaze darts around, then lands on my shoulder. “Three, four…” Eyes back to me, she adds apprehensively, “Twelve.”
“Jesus Christ!” I explode to my feet and pace in a circle, squeezing the back of my neck from the knots of rebar. I try to control my temper as I think about what she must have been going through. Especially because I know how scared she was with me in a safe house. I can’t imagine how terrified she’s been all alone.
Unless she hasn’t been alone.
But she wouldn’t be here if that were the case. She’s here because she needsme—not some other man, not even her father.
I don’t sit, I’m too ramped up to, so I stand on the opposite side of the coffee table. “What do you mean by a feeling? Did you notice things out of place?”
“Nope. It’s really just a feeling…uneasy, uncomfortable.”
“Did you tell anyone else? Your dad?”
Her eyes get heavy and wet. “Dad died, Ben.”
