Shit.
That feeling, that desire to protect her, to be everything she needs, is already starting to consume me. It’s faster than last time, but just as intense. Maybe even more so.
I can’t get distracted again, can’t get in too deep. This is my chance to prove myself to her and make up for the error in judgment that caused the messy fallout between our fathers.
My head is on a swivel as I escort her into her building, but she stops in her tracks. “Oh no. I don’t have my keys.”
“It’s all good.” I dig through the bag and find what I’m looking for, then pick the lock in about three seconds. “Lead the way.”
She falters as if she wants to say something, but when I raise a brow, she scoffs, then heads inside. Her limp seems to have improved slightly, and she’s still in just socks, so she needs to be off her feet.
One of the first things I learned about her was her fear of small spaces, so I’m not surprised when she bypasses the elevator.
We approach the stairwell, but before she takes a step, I bend my knees, wrap my arm around just below her waist, and lift her off the ground. She blows out an annoyed breath. “Ben, I can walk.”
“So can I.”
“Not like this for four flights, you can’t.”
I love a challenge. “Wanna bet?” I hit the landing on the second story.
“No, because you’ll tear the muscles in your arm before you’ll let me win. I don’t want that to happen, so just put me down.” She wiggles, but I hold on tighter.
“Why? So you can hurt yourself further?”
She settles. “That’s impossible if I hop the steps on my good foot.”
“And what did I do last time you suggested that?”
She looks away from me, but I can see her rolling her eyes. We reach the fourth floor, and I lower her to her feet in front of her unit.
I pick the deadbolt, then push the door open slowly. I realize immediately that her small studio is empty. There’s no threat, and there’s no place for anyone to hide, not even a cat.
My blood still runs cold when I spot how close the fire escape access is to where she sleeps every night. Annie clenches my tee in the back, and I reach behind to give her hip a reassuring squeeze.
I turn to her, and my shirt twists in the death grip she has on it. I pry her fingers apart only to have her squeeze them around mine so tight it’s on the verge of painful. “It’s okay, Blue. Nobody else is here. You’re safe.”
“I didn’t shut the window, Ben,” she whispers. “But someone did, someone was inside my apartment.” She tears away from me and charges across the room, then yanks the bottom of the window, but it doesn’t budge. “What if she tried to come back and couldn’t get in?” She fiddles with the latch, shoves it open, then sticks her head out and yells, “Joan Wick. Come here, baby. I’m home, come back! Joan Wick!”
My heart breaks when I hear her sob, and I grab my shit, looking up and down the hall before closing the door. But then it hits me. She didn’t have her keys, so why did I have to mess with the deadbolt? Who the fuck locked her door?
Yeah, someone is messing with her, and I want her out of here. I walk over to tell her that, but she face-plants into my chest, sobbing. I rub her back, taking the time to calm myself down as well. “I’m gonna get a couple of cameras hooked up, and I want you to pack while I do that. Then we’ll drive around and try to find Joan Wick.”
“Pack for what?” She sniffles.
“You’re coming back with me and don’t even try to argue ab—”
A knock comes from the hallway, and I pull her away from the window, slam it shut, and put her in the small bathroom that’s to the left of the door. Another knock, louder this time, and I look through the peephole to see a guy about my age with blond hair parted down the middle, pressed slacks, and a wrinkled white dress shirt, waiting impatiently.
I yank the door open, and he looks up, the hopeful, pathetic expression on his face flips when he sees me in Annie’s stead.
Immediately, I hate this guy. There’s something in his weird gray eyes that screams suspicious in a way that sets off a familiar chill down my spine. I don’t know who he is, but I know what he wants—and he’s not getting it.
He shifts on loafers, and I cross my arms, waiting him out. He tries to look beyond me, but I move to block his view. “Is Annie here?” he finally asks.
“What do you want with Annie?”
“Who are you?”
