I pause, taken aback, head shaking.
“No you have. You're willing to fight now. Before you were more fragile. This stalker needs a fighter. Stalkers aren’t predictable,” he says. “That said, the whore on your car reeks of frustration. You aren’t responding the way they want or expect. You’re thriving. This is where they make a mistake and show themselves.”
I close my mouth, which has fallen open at his approval. Regardless, I need to focus.
“If you think Meg’s safe, Remy and Erik want to move in. I’m not quite ready. Do you think it would escalate this person?”
“Anything where you succeed escalates them. The timeline shows nothing until you reemerged from your self-isolation. They’re trying to drive you back. Don’t let them.”
My smile wavers as it forms. “I’m trying. It’s easier to be strong for others.” I look away from his too-observant gaze. “I can push for things to protect Meg and the Notes.”
Coulson stays silent. I shove my hands into my skirt pockets and follow the dogs, the quiet letting my thoughts spill. “I probably need to be willing to do this for me.”
I glance at him and catch the faint quirk of his mouth. “You should probably charge for this.”
“I’ll send you an invoice,” he says. “You need a guard. Discreet if you insist, but there will come a moment when seconds matter. I need you to hear that. Seconds can be too late.”
Chapter one hundred one
Christianna
As our concert comes to a close, I bite my lip to hide my smile at the little boy who is standing at Maestro’s side.
He is imitating him and waving his hands in glee. When he points to me and moves his arm, I play along and draw out the music. Liu sends me a startled glance before joining in, as we do a rendition of pop goes the weasel with the little boy's eyes widening comically.
As he draws to a stop, he turns to James, “Did I do that?”
“You absolutely did, with a little help.” James is grinning down at him.
A teenager with floppy hair comes up and says “Give me a high five my bro, you rocked it.”
The boy jumps up to hit his high five before following him off babbling in joy. “Did you see that Evan? I did so good.”
Ruiz comes to my side, as quiet and discreet as Coulson promised.
“Ms. Daye,” he says.
I nod once. He stays where he is, close without crowding.
The room hums. Kids weaving between adults. It’s a strange setting, but it works. Noah’s Second Ark, a community center for at risk kids and families. The families and children are at ease.
The hair stands up on my arms. Awareness. I bend my head as I finish putting my violin away and let my hair shield my smile.
I look up.
Erik is crossing the room.
He moves with intent, unhurried, immaculate as always. Jacket smooth. Hair perfect. His focus never wavers. People step aside without realizing why.
Remy doesn’t follow. He angles away, already engaged with a group near the classrooms. I catch flashes only. Suits. A woman far along enough in her pregnancy that it changes how people orient around her. Two men close at her sides.
Erik stops in front of me.
His eyes find mine.
“There you are,” he says.
Nothing else.
