Sasha hesitated.
He paused without turning back. “You came to talk to me for a reason. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Dread and anxiety settled in her stomach. But she had no choice. With a backward glance at her sleeping daughter, she followed.
At the end of the hall and to the left, she crossed the foyer again, then passed under an archway. A thoroughly modern kitchen awaited on the other side. Hardwood floors and concrete countertops gleamed under recessed lighting, as did the dark, contemporary cabinets. A stainless refrigerator stood in one corner, perfectly matching the oven and microwave, which beeped again.
“Bobby Flay, I’m not,” he said, yanking open the microwave door and pulling out two pieces of pepperoni pizza. “Sit.”
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything resembling a full belly, and this smelled scrumptious. Her stomach rumbled.
He set the slices in front of her, along with a napkin. “Eat.”
Sasha frowned at the plate. Nick meant to feed her? “For me?”
“Yeah.” He gave her a self-deprecating smile as he put a can of beer in front of her. “I only have necessities here right now. Sorry.”
“Beer and pizza?”
A wry smile appeared. It should have softened his dangerous look. But it didn’t.
“Damn straight,” he quipped.
His reply seemed so…typical guy. So unlike the violent rapist his trial had painted him to be. She hid her surprise behind her napkin. Who was she dealing with?
“Look, I appreciate the bed, the medical attention for Harper, and the food?—”
“I’m not listening to you until you’ve swallowed every last bite of that. Chow down.”
Sasha didn’t have to be told twice. She was starving, so she devoured the pizza, conscious of Nick watching her every move with those unnervingly intent dark eyes. What was he thinking when he looked at her that way?
If they’d been in a different situation, she would have been ridiculously attracted to him. He had a rugged face dusted with dark stubble and bold male features. His mouth was a wide slash of full lips that looked totally equipped to provide hours of sin. That, coupled with his air of mystery, screamed danger. Not that he’d be interested in her. She hardly possessed the centerfold beauty he’d once been used to, according to Mike. She was completely safe. In fact, the way she looked now, he wouldn’t touch her, even if she were the last female on earth.
It didn’t matter. Sasha had stopped caring about superficial stuff long ago. And however tempting he looked on the outside, Nick Navarro’s blood was ice, according to his rape victim’s testimony. Even at his trial, he’d never said a word in his defense, simply accepted his conviction with a blank stare.
Sasha again questioned the wisdom of putting herself in his path. If Mike hadn’t been murdered, she would have been a suburban soccer mom—not homeless and broke and running for her life, sleeping with one eye open to make sure her daughter stayed safe. Not at the mercy of a man society labeled a violent offender. But he knew how to play hardball with the people who threatened her and Harper. He alone knew how to end this nightmare.
Damn it, if only she had some bargaining chip to offer him…
Once her plate was empty, he set it in the stainless steel sink. Cautiously, Sasha sipped her beer, observing his sharp, watchful movements.
“Thank you for the food. I was hungry,” she admitted.
“Has your daughter eaten?”
Sasha nodded. “We stopped at a diner down the road a while ago.”
“And you didn’t eat.”
He didn’t ask; he knew.
Sasha paused. She didn’t want to voice the truth but lying to him seemed counterproductive when she needed his help. “I didn’t have enough money for both of us to eat.”
His face tightened to a glower. “Then you walked here in the rain?”
“Yes.” She barely managed to get the word out.
“Carrying her?”
