Carson’s apartment was exactly what he’d left it that morning—sparse, functional, devoid of anything that might reveal who he actually was.
Which was exactly the problem.
He stood in the doorway with Nora behind him, suddenly seeing his space through her eyes. The bare walls. The minimalist furniture. The single photo on the bookshelf—him and his dad at his police academy graduation, both trying to smile despite Lily’s absence haunting every family moment.
The place looked like a man who didn’t let himself get comfortable. Who didn’t put down roots. Who kept everything temporary because permanent meant vulnerable.
“It’s not much,” Carson said, stepping inside and flipping on the lights. “But it’s secure. Dead bolts, reinforced locks, security system on all entry points.”
Nora wheeled her suitcase inside, looking around. “It’s fine. Better than fine. Thank you for letting me stay here.”
Letting her.As if he’d had a choice. As if the moment she’d said she trusted him, something in his chest hadn’t cracked open and demanded he keep her close.
“Guest room’s down the hall,” he said, gesturing. “Bathroom’s next to it. Kitchen’s open if you get hungry. I’ll be working from here mostly—laptop set up at the dining table.”
“I don’t want to be in your way.”
“You’re not.” The words came out rougher than he’d intended. He forced his voice to soften. “I want you here. Where I know you’re safe.”
Their eyes met, and Carson felt that dangerous pull again. The one that had nothing to do with his job and everything to do with the way she looked at him—like he was someone worth trusting. Someone who could protect her.
Someone who wouldn’t fail.
He broke eye contact first. “Let me show you the room.”
***
By the time Carson got Nora settled and ran through the security protocols—don’t answer the door, keep her phone charged,his number on speed dial—it was nearly five PM. His phone had been buzzing nonstop with messages from the station.
He pulled it out once Nora disappeared into the guest room to unpack. Three texts from Patterson, two from Finn, one from Captain Holloway.
Holloway’s was the most direct:My office. Tomorrow morning. 8 AM sharp.
Great. Another lecture about boundaries and professional conduct. About how bringing a victim to stay in his apartment crossed about fifteen different lines.
But what choice did he have? The hotel had been compromised. Someone had tipped off Eugene. And until Carson figured out who was feeding information to the stalker, Nora needed to be somewhere completely off the grid.
Here. With him.
Where he could watch over her. Protect her. Make sure nothing happened.
Where you can blur every professional boundary you’ve ever had,a voice in his head added.Where you can pretend this is just about the case and not about the way she looks at you.
Carson shoved the thought away and focused on Patterson’s texts:Eugene’s lawyer is stonewalling. Won’t let us search his apartment without a warrant. Judge denied it—insufficient evidence.
Finn pulled Eugene’s phone records. Nothing unusual. Either he’s using burners or he’s not our guy.
Captain wants to know why you took the victim to your apartment. FYI.
Carson swore under his breath. Of course Holloway knew. The man had eyes everywhere in the department.
He was typing a response when Nora emerged from the guest room, looking uncertain.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Fine. Just work stuff.” He pocketed his phone. “You get settled?”
“Yeah. Your guest room is nice. Very...clean.”
