“His mom was a serial killer and he helped her.”
“What?” I ask, barely able to force air across my windpipe. “And he”—I have to swallow to finish my sentence—“he had you trapped?”
He pulls me into his side and drops a kiss to my temple. “I escaped.”
“But…” I don’t finish my sentence. I drop my face into his pec and breathe deep as he holds me.
I could’ve lost him. It’s a weird sensation.
A month ago, it wouldn’t have mattered. I would’ve cranked my music, gone to work on my own, never given a second thought to the neighbor who never seemed to be home. Then his place would have gone on the market and that would’ve been that.
He’d have been a name on a police report only… a man I never would’ve seen again.
“Does this all feel like too much? Too much at the same time?” It does to me. “Your dad showed up today. Not a couple of hours later, the guy who tried to break in to my place was on your doorstep, coordinating with someone in the back alley. It’s too… coincidental.”
He looks away, but hums and nods. “My father is an ass. He fancies himself a smart man, but he’s not nearly as bright as he believes. I’ll run some forensic searches to see if there’s any connection, but the idea that you chose a moving company because it would help my father in the off-chance Ayla pressedcharges is too far-fetched. He doesn’t plan that far in advance, isn’t that strategic, and truly”—he turns his face to mine, so close I could kiss him with a good stretch—“assumed he could get away with anything. He’s bad timing today. Gascon and the owner? That’s a different story. They knew we were home. That’s something I need to address.”
“Should we file a restraining order?” Does that fix things?
“Perhaps, but Gascon was on my property, not yours.”
“He was on mine the first time.”
“And the sheriff bungled the report. We need the paper trail.”
“This is starting to annoy me.” I make a face.
“Then you’re more patient than I am. I’m way past annoyed. If it weren’t for you, I would’ve handled this already. I sure as fuck wouldn’t have brought this mess to my family’s doorstep.”
“Should you warn Sariah and Cian?”
He freezes. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he places it to his ear, stands with a grunt, and walks out a set of glass doors off the room.
I have no clue where Poe is. Franklin meanders to sit, directly opposite me not far from my feet and stares.
“Are you protecting Sophia?”
No tail wag. No movement. Nearly black eyes bore into mine.
“Well, you’re intimidating. But you don’t have to worry. I won’t hurt her.”
Sophia’s eyes open, and she wiggles and coos, stretching out her legs and arms.
The dog tilts his head to her, his ears perk, and he leans in.
“Why am I not surprised?” Ayla says from the doorway, carrying a tray and placing it on the round deep ottoman, sitting not far from it.
“That I’m being guarded?”
“That boy has been fascinated with her since before I learned I was pregnant. Hell, I took a pregnancy test because he booped my stomach with his nose every time I sat down. Who needs a blue line when you have a Malinois?” She scrubs a hand between his ears. “He laid his head on my belly every chance he could get. We came home from the hospital, and I was chopped liver. Well,not really, he loves liver. But I was no longer his number one girl.”
“That’s sweet.”
“I got my girl back, so I was good with the turn,” Christian says, wandering past us, an espresso cup in hand.
“He was jealous,” Ayla puts in. “He wanted a hand on my belly. Franklin wanted his face there. The two of them were everywhere.”
“That’s kind of like complaining about being loved too much, you know?”
