Page 90 of Keeping Knight

But I’ve never been this afraid on a mission before.

Halfway up the stairs, the man speaks again. This time I can understand him.

“You stupid whore,” he snarls. “I thought you were different. Acting all nice, making me cookies, smiling and flirting with me. I thought we had something special. But then you spread your legs for that rich fucking asshole.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ruby replies. Her voice is small. Frightened. And the sound of it almost brings me to my knees.

She’s alive. Here. Whatever threat this man is to her, I can neutralize it.

“Don’t know what I’m talking about?” His voice rises. “Ten months I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve been so fucking patient. You were worth the wait, I told myself. I read that you lost your dad, so I thought I’d give you time to grieve. But no! You throw me aside for that rich fucker instead!”

Once I reach the second-floor hallway, I pause briefly while trying to figure out which room they’re in. My bedroom? Ruby’s? One of the closets? The laundry?

“Please, Henry,” Ruby begs. “Just leave. We can pretend this never happened. I won’t go back to my apartment. You won’t have to see me again.”

Henry? Who’s Henry? And how dare he call Ruby a whore?

Rage surges, igniting white-hot in my chest. My fingers tighten around my gun.

As I continue down the hallway, I cast my mind to our list of potentials. Clients of Ruby’s. Coworkers. Residents of her building.

And that’s when it comes to me. Henry. Thirty-five. Lives in a one-bedroom apartment on the fifth floor, just upstairs from Ruby. No criminal record. Nothing suspicious in his background. When we asked Ruby about him, she said he was nice enough, but she rarely spoke to him.

We didn’t find anything useful on Henry. But here he is. In my condo. Calling my girlfriend a whore. And if he hurt her…

“You’re right,” he replies. “I won’t see you again. Because you’ll be dead. You and this fucking dog and your fucking rich asshole boyfriend.”

“No.” A small sob carries down the hallway. “Please. Don’t hurt them. If you want me… I’ll go with you. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t hurt them. Please.”

Now that I’m closer, I can tell their voices are coming from Ruby’s bedroom.

“I think I’ll kill you last,” Henry says, sounding very matter of fact about it. “So you can see what you did. And your piece of shit boyfriend can die knowing all his efforts were for nothing.” He laughs. “Bet you wish you’d made a different choice now, don’t you?”

“Henry, please, no⁠—”

Ruby yelps.

Sampson barks.

“Shut the damn dog up!” he shouts.

“No!” she cries. “Don’t hurt him!”

Something falls inside Ruby’s bedroom. Sampson barks again.

Why didn’t he take this asshole out? I wonder. Ruby knows the command for him to attack. Unless, in her panic, she forgot? Or⁠—

But as soon as I reach the doorway, I know.

In a series of freeze frames, I take in everything.

A tall, shaggy-haired man with horn-rimmed glasses stands not six feet from Ruby, holding a gun on her.

And not just any man. The same fucking man who appeared in the hallway the night of Ruby’s attack. The helpful neighbor; the one who called 911 for us. And the one I’d put money on being the one who hurt her.

Ruby faces him, her face pale and tear-stained, her chin jutting out defiantly. She has Sampson’s collar clutched in one hand as she tries to keep him behind her. Sampson’s teeth are bared. His growls are a constant rumble. His body is tensed like a spring about to explode.

But he’s not moving. Which means Ruby told him to hold.