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Before I can stop myself, I walk to the front door, and looking through the peephole, I watch as she comes rushing up the stairs.

“God. I’m going to wet myself!” Her voice carries a note of panic.

On the last step, she trips over her feet, but she catches herself. I get a good look at her face, her green eyes the color of moss, and in total contrast with her flaming red hair.

For a moment, my heartbeat actually speeds up, which is totally out of the norm for me. The next instant, she darts out of my view, and I listen as she unlocks her door and slams it shut behind her.

Just as I begin to move away from the door, I hear footsteps again, and looking through the peephole, I take note of a man who appears to be in his mid-thirties. My attention snaps to the tats on his arms, and my eyes narrow.

The barbed wire inked around his forearms tells me the man served time behind bars.

Markings on a person’s body only make it easier for them to be identified. That’s why I have no tattoos.

In a split second, I size him up. The way he moves tells me he’s grown complacent with his surroundings and isn’t on guard at all. He’s not a threat to me.

Yet.

Having had enough of standing by the front door, I pull my phone out of my pocket and get back to work. While I set up the app so I’ll have access to the security cameras and motion sensors, I take a seat on the couch that’s pushed up against a wall. It gives me a clear view of the window, the front door, and the hallway.

Once I’m done, I lean back on the couch and close my eyes. Listening to all the new sounds, I hear a chair scraping softly in the apartment beside mine, and above, the muted footfalls of whoever lives there tells me exactly where the person is in the other apartment.

My thoughts turn to the new life I’ve been given. It cost me a fuck-ton of money that I had to give up to the FBI.

It also cost me the feared status I worked so hard to achieve. I had to give up my entire past. Where the name Rowan Teller, a.k.a. the Wolf, inspired terror, Owen Casey is nothing but an identity I have to adapt to at the speed of light.

I’m starting work as a bartender tomorrow, where I’ll have to interact with people and pretend to be a regular person.

I have no idea how I’m going to pull it off, but I’ll have to make it work because I’ve sacrificed too much to bail on this chance I’ve been given.

“Owen Casey,” I say the name again, knowing the sooner I get used to it, the better.

I notice it’s getting dark and decide to head down to the bar so I can scope the place. Getting up from the couch, I leave my new apartment and take the steps down to the first floor.

Classic rock drifts through the walls. Nothing like the intense beat that was constantly pulsing in Bastien’s club.

Exiting the building, I walk around the side to the bar entrance, and when I go inside, I take in everything in a heartbeat.

Nineteen people. Davis. The pretty redhead. Six men and two women are sitting at the counter. Four booths. Only the one closest to the restroom is empty.

Two men walk by me, pulling cigarettes from their pockets as they step out of the bar to have a smoke, their conversation revolving around a construction project.

Via the pass-through between the bar and the kitchen, I see the man from earlier wiping his hands on a stained apron.

Slowly, I eliminate people as threats while I walk toward the open booth. My gaze locks on one of the men by the counter, the bulge at his lower back indicating a weapon.

I glance over all the bottles of alcohol and also take note of the broom leaning against the wall beside a door that probably leads to the kitchen. Plenty of options for improvised weapons, should the need arise.

I barely notice I’m dissecting every inch of the bar and everyone in it. While taking a seat, the redhead looks my way, and I realize I have to focus on coming across as relaxed.

Blend in.

My eyes track her as she slowly makes her way to the booth I’m in, stopping to talk with other patrons or to collect an empty glass. Once again, my heart speeds up a little, and I find it harder than usual to tear my eyes away from her.

Not only is she my neighbor, but I’ll be working with her. She’ll become a daily part of my life.

Owen Casey. Owen Casey. Owen Casey.

When she reaches the booth I’m in, she gives me a friendly smile that makes her look even more stunning. It’s been a very long time since I’ve been attracted to a woman, and it makes me feel a little off-kilter.