Tracker and TJ are one thing. They don’t count. Cole Matthews is something else entirely.
“I can run miles and miles. I can take down just about anyone, and if not, I sure as hell can fight. I could win a shooting contest, but. . .this. . . ”
She wipes her mouth with a napkin and sets her food aside. I ready myself because whatever is coming is what I’m here for. It’s the armor I’ll surround myself with that will get me through this assignment and allow me to do my job.
She eases back into her chair, settling in and likely trying to transfer that comfort to me. It’s not working.
“What if you ask him for a deadbolt on your door?”
I ponder her question, fully aware that if I lock myself in, I can’t protect him.
“What if he hears you cry out in your sleep?”
I can’t think about that one.
She leans forward a little. “What if he thinks you being in his space entitles him to more than you standing at his side, making sure his privileged behind doesn’t get taken out?”
“His stalker will lose this game. I’ll bust a cap at his ass so fast. . . ”
She chuckles but then waits, wanting the deeper answer. The real answer.
I groan internally, knowing I have to dig in a box I keep closed.
I suck in air and force it out. “This is a job. I don’t want to get any sort of personal with this guy. It’s putting me in a very vulnerable situation, and you know how I feel about that.”
She smiles, liking the truth. “What if it’s not as painful as you think?” Her brows pinch together. “Look how far you’ve come. You set down all those layers daily for the women and children who enter this house. He’s just a man. You know he’s not a sicko. What if he sees more than you’d ever willingly show him?” Her eyebrows lift, wanting me to consider it, while fully aware I’d give that a bigno thank you.
She picks up her other Styrofoam container. “Why don’t you tell Tracker you’re not doing this assignment? TJ could take this one. Although it might take him longer.” One side of her mouth curls upward. “You’re still healing. You wouldn’t have to worry about any of this other stuff.”
She fills her fork with rice and vegetables and chews.
“I want to figure out who’s doing this and take them down. It’s what I do. It’s what I’m made for.”
“TJ can do that.”
Damn her and her quick retort.
I stare at her, searching, trying to sift through my nerves and determination to get to the root of it.
Finding it deep within and scared to say it, I take a breath, feeling a burn crawl up my throat that I loathe.
“Because I’m sick and tired of being afraid, of letting my past dictate what I’m capable of. I want to find this fucker and then get back to my life.”
She grins. “Nothing like finally having had enough. You’ll be just fine, Ryder. And if you’re not, you know where to find me. I’m not going anywhere.”
I swallow, not letting the tears fill my eyes. She sees it, but lets me off this time.
She sets her food in her lap, her gentle gaze holding mine. “Just remember, it’s ok to let yourself be happy when you feel it.”
She stares at me as if she knows something I don’t, and I’ve seriously had enough of that today.
I take a deep breath and blow it out.
“Sleep well tonight, Ryder. Starting tomorrow, you’ll need it.”
I hug her and leave, comforted that she’s not going anywhere.
I head to the kitchen to see what I can snag for the drive home that will sustain me through packing. The thought makes my stomach pinch tight.
