He didn’t scare me anywhere near enough. I was the stupidest woman for how safe he made me feel. Or the fact that tonight, I’d gone around to check all the doors and windows were locked. Not so I could leave, but so others couldn’t get in.
At my lack of an answer, Tyler looked me over, the heaviness lifting from him. “You’ve been on your own for weeks.”
“And I hated it.”
“Then I’m sorry.” He sniffed the air. “It smells incredible in here.”
I folded my arms. “I cooked. There might be some for you. After you’ve showered and changed.”
Obediently, he walked towards the hall that led to his room. “What did ye make?”
“Chicken fried rice. Go shower. I’ll make you a plate.”
Tyler hesitated, watching me. A rush of something pinned me to the spot. Attraction, lust, a tiny bit of fear. All, in some combination. I didn’t think on why he was bloodied. The task he’d set out to do. Only the fact that he’d come home to me.
At last, he tore away and stalked to the bathroom, shutting himself in. Water ran. I unglued my feet from the floor and retreated to the kitchen, trying not to picture hot steam and thick thighs.
Only a few minutes later, Tyler joined me, his hair damp and his clothes fresh. A t-shirt and grey sweats. Damn. I had to hold my focus on his face so I didn’t try to peek at any outline.
His lips twitched as if he knew, but he let me off, sitting at the island to attack the meal. He groaned in pleasure at the first bite. “This is so good.”
I flushed warm. “Thank you. I like it, and I don’t have many other recipes I can make.”
He scarfed down the food like he’d been starved. “Is there more?”
“I was stress-cooking, so I made a lot.” I took another container from the fridge and warmed it up.
I liked feeding him. I’d enjoyed it yesterday, too. I knew Stockholm syndrome had been debunked as not real, but what was it called when the girl already liked the guy? And wasn’t put off by him kidnapping her or coming home covered in blood with bruised knuckles? Where she actually kinda liked it?
Tyler devoured his second dinner then drank two glasses of water from the tap.
“I need to tell ye what I did tonight.”
I swallowed but nodded. Part of the reason why I’d stressed about him going out was centred around his task. What he might find out.
We moved to the sofa in the living room, sitting at either end and facing each other. To one side, the fire burned in the grate, the flames flickering orange. I’d already dragged the heavy curtains shut and turned on lamps. It made my safe haven feel even more secure, and gave a cosy atmosphere for a heavy conversation.
Tyler’s expression changed from contentment to one weighed down with knowledge.
I broke the ice. “You know what happened in that room.”
He inclined his head.
I continued. “The guard was watching?”
Another nod. “His name was Buck. He was getting off on filming the women and not doing his job.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Not the first time a new guard has got pussy struck. Wait, did you say filming?”
“He had videos.”
“Including that one of me?”
His nod iced over my blood. Then it hadn’t been wiped everywhere. He’d seen it all.
I swallowed. “What did you do to him?”
“Made him regret it, got rid of any evidence, then handed him over to Shade so he could become an example to the rest.”
