My phone buzzes.
DANIIL: Where are you? I’m at the hospital. I thought maybe I could help out with whatever is going on.
GRIM: Room 4212. Cops are taking her statement.
DANIIL: On my way.
I don’t know if his presence will help or hinder but he has a way of smoothing things over. He’s a force to be reckoned with. The prince of an Eastern European country, a former statesman, and a badass bodyguard. He ticks all the boxes. Not to mention, he’s now my brother-in-law.
“I think that’s all for tonight,” Detective Roswell says. “We’ll probably have follow-up questions in the coming days.”
Allora nods.
“You probably shouldn’t go home,” Detective James adds. “Is there somewhere you can stay? If they have your ID and such, they’ll know where you live and perhaps want to come back and... finish the job.”
“Finish the job?” She gapes at him. “You mean, kill me?”
“You saw their faces,” he explains quietly. “If this is truly a sex trafficking ring, they’re going to want to protect their identities.” He glances at me. “And that includes you.”
That thought had been niggling in the back of my mind, but I didn’t want to focus on it.
Now I have no choice.
And there’s no doubt Allora hadn’t considered that at all.
She closes her eyes and a single tear leaks out.
God dammit.
I hate everything about this. I can take care of myself, but she’s not prepared for that. I don’t know much about her but she’s probably not in a position to install a state-of-the-art security system or hire a full-time bodyguard. Those kinds of things are expensive. And inconvenient. I don’t know how to fix that, and even though this really is none of my business, I can’t seem to walk away.
“It’s going to be okay,” my stupid mouth says before I can stop it. “We’ll figure out how to protect you.”
Her eyes slowly open, and she stares at me. “Who are you?” she asks at last. “I mean, really.”
“My name is Landon Grimshaw. Former United States Marine who currently works for a security and bodyguard firm.”
“Landon.” She seems focused on my name. “That suits you more than…Grim.”
I chuckle. “I picked up the nickname playing college football. When I got to the military, it stuck.”
“You played college football?”
I nod.
“And now you’re a professional bodyguard.”
“Yes.”
“Who just happened to be getting gas at the place where my abductor stopped.”
I nod again. “Yes.”
“I should feel lucky,” she whispers. “That you were there. That you believed me when I said I needed help. That you got involved at all. So why don’t I? Feel lucky, I mean.”
“Because you’ve gone through something traumatic. It’s hard to frame that in a way that feels lucky.” I pause. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Allora. I wish I could have gotten there sooner. Before…you know.” Before two assholes raped her? I can’t even bring myself to say the words because it just makes me want to go postal. Break things. Hurt the people that hurt her.
And I still might.
