“I see you! I’ve called security! Get the hell off my balcony!”
The shape doesn’t move.
I don’t wait to see if he believes me. Instead, I bolt down the hall and into my bedroom with the knife in one hand. I snatch my cell phone off the nightstand on the way past. Then I slam thebathroom door, lock it, and back up against the bathtub. I put the knife down on the counter and immediately scroll through my contacts, finding Ridge.
I tap the screen and lift the phone to my ear. It rings once.
“What’s wrong?” He sounds wide awake.
The sound of his voice steadies me, just a little.
“There’s someone on my balcony.” My words come out high and hushed. “I’m in the bathroom. I locked the door. I have a knife. I— He was… He was trying to open the slider, Ridge, I could hear him scratching at the door, he?—”
“Did he see you?”
“I shouted at him,” I whisper. “I told him I called security. I didn’t actually call?—”
“Sit tight. Don’t move. I am on my way.”
“Are you?—?”
“I’ll be there in five minutes. Start screaming if you hear him inside your apartment.”
The line goes dead.
I put down the phone and pick up the knife. I listen with all my might, but I don’t hear anything. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.
Time ticks by slowly. I still don’t hear anything. I keep straining my ears. Every second feels like an eternity.
I gasp when my phone lights up with a message from Ridge.
At your sliding door. It’s all clear.
He must have used the emergency stairs and climbed across. It’s probably how the would-be intruder got onto my balcony. I rush over to the sliding door.
“Open the door,” he tells me as I pull the drapes aside.
I put the knife on the nearby coffee table and do as he says.
Ridge fills the opening as soon as I push the sliding door open.
He’s in dark clothes, and his hair is loose. He drops his phone into his pocket and steps inside.
I’m so happy to see him that I throw my arms around him and press my face to his chest.
“I was so afraid,” I say into his shirt.
His arms come up and close around me, slow at first and then properly, one hand at my back and one cupping the back of my head. He’s warm, and so damned big. He also smells really good. I feel my nerves temper.
I force myself to let go of him and step back.
“Sorry. I… Sorry. Um…”
“It’s understandable that you’re a bit shaken. Show me where you saw him,” he says.
I point at the slider.
He turns and squats down in front of the track. He runs a finger along the lock. He runs it along the frame.
