A soft knock raps on my door. “Leticia?”
It’s not my mother.
“I just woke up,” I answer, pushing the drawer closed and rising from bed. Picking up the robe from the edge of the mattress, I shrug it on and loosely belt the sash around my waist. I snatch my phone as I pass my dresser. When I open the door, I see the U.S. Marshal who took over our case.
“Good morning. I thought you’d like some breakfast.” He holds up my favorite coffee and a bag with the bakery label where I always buy my bagels now. “Cynthia said I should shove some calories into you.” He gives me a crooked smile.
“Thanks.” I tuck my cell into the pocket of my robe and close the door as I enter the hall. “Outside?”
He nods. “It’s warm enough.”
Daniel Brekker is handsome in that classical, good guy way. Short, closely cut brown hair. Hazel eyes. High cheekbones and a hint of stubble. His teeth are very white and straight. I’ve never seen him in anything other than a suit or tactical gear. He doesn’t wear jeans often, so I notice them right away.
“Going casual, Brekker?”
He smirks. “It’s a bit hot for all my gear.”
We’re on the west coast, hours from where I used to live in Northern California. The salty breeze sweeps through my hair as we exit the house, and I sit on the deck, facing the ocean. It’s calm today, the surface lightly rippling in the wind.
I wore leggings and a long tank top to bed. With the robe, I’m comfortable. Tucking my feet underneath me, I reach for the coffee. “This is good,” I say after taking a few sips.
“I thought you’d enjoy it.” He pushes the bag toward me. “Go ahead. I already ate.”
I don’t hesitate to unwrap my bagel sandwich and take a bite, moaning around the flavor. It’s perfect. Egg, cheddar cheese, maple bacon, sausage, and a French toast bagel with a hint of syrup. It’s the perfect combination of sweet and savory.
Brekker laughs. “I can’t get over how much you enjoy that sandwich.”
I chew and swallow. “It’s delicious. You need to get one next time.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t do sweet mixed with egg.”
“You’re missing out.” I finish the sandwich, bag up the trash, and enjoy my coffee.
It’s a comfortable silence that follows. Brekker has been checking on me and my mom once a week since we moved into this house. He says it’s his job, but I suspect there’s more to it.
“So,” I say, turning my head to meet his gaze, “Why are you here, Brekker? Is there anything to worry about?”
“No.” His answer is firm. “I have an update to share with you.”
I didn’t expect that. “Okay. Tell me.”
“Gage Blade is out of prison.”
My body stiffens, and I’m tempted to slam my coffee cup on the table. “When?”
“Six months ago.” He holds my gaze, not at all looking guilty for keeping it from me.
Are you fucking serious?
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shoves away from the table and approaches me. I let him pull me up from the seat. Brekker’s hands wrap around mine and lightly squeeze. In his stare, I can see he’s about to say something I won’t like. “He’s toxic. A criminal, Leticia.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to decide if and when I learn the truth about him or anyone else from my past.”
“I know that and can respect it,” he sighs, “which is why I’m telling you right now.”
“What about Ava? Is she okay?”
