Chapter 5 – nate
NATE
Cat tosses bags of frozen broccoli on the kitchen table as she rummages through her freezer.
“Damn it,” she mutters. “They took it.”
“Took what?” I ask.
“My rent money. I get tipped in cash.”
She looks so defeated, I decide not to tell her that the freezer is one of the first places a good thief looks. If her joke of a building manager didn’t allow so many basic security lapses, it wouldn’t have mattered.
Cat called her super as soon as she saw the broken door.
She didn’t put up a fight when I insisted on staying with her while she waited for him to come.
She even let me do a sweep of the apartment looking for intruders while she waited outside.
If she was letting me take the lead, that meant the break-in seriously shook her.
“It’s going to be okay,” she says quietly to herself, pacing her tiny kitchen “I’ll be fine. I’ll figure this out.”
She breathes deeply in and out, making her breasts rise and fall. I look away as soon as I catch myself staring at them. Fuck, what’s wrong with me, ogling her when she’s this upset? I turn away, giving her a little privacy.
Automatically, my eyes flit between the two apartment entrances. Front door, still locked and secure. Back door, still barely a door. Cat’s too distressed to watch out in case the intruders return, so I have to be on alert for her.
Not that there’s any valuables for them to come back for. I’ve already searched everywhere–kitchen, living room, bedroom, bathroom, closet. All 500 square feet of the place. The bedroom was just big enough for Cat’s queen-sized bed and small end table, which the thieves overturned.
I’m guessing that’s how her vibrator ended up on the ground, the base cracked, the batteries falling out. I nudged the whole mess under the bed with my shoe and pretended I never saw it.
When I turn back to face her, trying to come up with something—anything to say, she stops and gasps, her amber eyes meeting mine.
“Oh shit. Sorry, I didn’t even offer you a drink or anything.”
Cat opens the fridge. “I have—well, I had some Gatorade. There’s water.”
She pulls out a bottle and holds it out to me.
I shake my head and grunt. “I’m good.” And she doesn't need to be playing hostess in the middle of a fucking crime scene.
Even though half the furniture has been turned over and a few dishes are smashed on the floor, the place still feels strangely welcoming.
Cat leaned into the apartment’s small size, putting a few cozy armchairs in the living room, draped with fuzzy throw-blankets.
I can imagine her and a friend curling up in them to chat and listen to music from her ancient-looking record player.
There’s a little window seat looking out on the back patio, with a built-in bookshelf under it filled with pink and blue titles I don’t recognize.
Every free square inch not occupied by furniture is full of houseplants. Some are green and thriving, blooming out of their pots. Others look half-dead, carefully propped up by popsicle sticks, like they’re being coaxed back to health.
I already knew Cat loved flowers. On her walks home, she always stops by a little flower shop to look at the displays and chat with the owners. Her favorite are some pink ones in the front, based on the way she always stops to smell them. She never buys any, though.
There’s a knock on the door, and Cat walks right toward it. Fuck, I could throttle her for being so careless—if the trespassers came back, they could have a gun at her temple in seconds.
I put a heavy hand on her shoulder to stop her and hold my finger up to my lips. She rolls her eyes.
“It’s just Steve,” she says.
“You don’t know that,” I whisper.
She huffs but lets me approach the door and peer out through the peephole. The man outside has a thick gray mustache and looks more like a retired plumber than a hardened criminal. Still, I look back at Cat and hold a finger over my lip to mime a mustache. “Steve?”
“Yes, Steve has a mustache,” she replies, purposefully loud.
Sighing, I unlock the deadbolt and open the door for him. Steve’s eyes widen with surprise when he sees me.
“Break-in?” he says, sounding confused.
“Yes.” Cat opens the door wider and gestures for her super to enter. “They broke in through the patio door. I thought after the last time you were going to install security cameras.”
The last time? How often does this happen?
Steve grunts. “It’s on my list.”
“I don’t know why I’m paying so much for rent if you can’t even bother to keep the building safe.” Cat crosses her arms, clearly uncomfortable with this sort of confrontation. “I mean, at least change the locks and fix the window out front.”
And update the intercom system, use shatter-proof glass in the patio-doors, install window sensors, put chain locks on the doors, a fence blocking the patio and backyard from the street…
“Maybe I can help.” I pull a card out of my pocket and hand it to the super. “I own United Protection Services. We could get your security upgraded within a few days if you mention me when you call.”
Steve shakes his head, snorts. “United Protection, huh? Last time I called for a quote and gave them my budget, your company pretty much laughed me off the phone.”
I want to tell him if he can’t afford it then he shouldn’t be in the business of renting apartments, but in an interest of not making this any more uncomfortable for Cat as I already have, I swallow the words.
“I’m happy to negotiate on rates if it—”
“It’s just too expensive. Not interested, but thanks.”
He drops my card onto Cat’s counter and I can tell that arguing any further will be useless.
This isn’t the kind of man who’s proud of his work and the services he offers; he wants to squeeze every penny out of anyone who rents from him while doing the bare minimum and no discount I offer will tempt him.
“Speaking of expenses, you’re late on rent again,” he has the gall to tell Cat.
She fiddles with the hem of her shirt. “I know, but the people who broke-in found my cash and—”
Don’t punch him.
Don’t punch him.
“Sorry, Cate” Steve says, in a tone which says he definitely isn’t. “If you don’t want the apartment, I can find someone else who will take it in a heartbeat.”
“It’s Cat,’’ she corrects.
I shift forward, drawing the asshole’s attention back to me because I’m pretty sure if he says another word to Cat, I might have to break my number one rule.
“What about the stolen items?” I ask. “Will you be reimbursing Miss Daniels for–”
“Call the cops and file a report. Her shit is not my responsibility. I’ll send someone to fix the door when I can. Then you can text me what you want to do about rent.”
With a final hard look at Cat, he leaves, slamming the door behind him.
When I look back to Cat, her eyes are fixed on the ground.
Her pale cheeks are flushed a bright red.
I’m guessing she’s embarrassed about the missed rent, even though I couldn’t give a damn.
I may not know her yet, but I can tell she’s not the type of person to skip out on her responsibilities.
She would have paid it if she could, and she’s obviously being overcharged for this tiny shithole masquerading as an apartment.
“Are you going to call the police?” I ask gently.
Her shoulders drop and she sighs. “Why bother? They never do anything about it. All it does is make a record of what happened, but nothing ever changes, and they never find the people responsible anyways.”
She might be right, but I hate it. Whoever did this deserves to be locked up. Fuck, what if Cat had been home alone when they broke in? What if she was in bed, asleep? What if…
Unwittingly, I picture two masked men all in black breaking in the patio door. I see them sneaking through the living room and into Cat’s bedroom. They loom over her small body, her face soft from sleep. Her bare legs tangled in her sheets.
They might’ve come looking for money and valuables, but what if they found her…
What if this was Harry fucking Pinkerton?
My fists clench until my knuckles turn white. Anything could have happened. She shouldn’t be staying in a place like this.
Cat tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, avoiding looking at me. “Thanks for the ride, Nate. You should…you should probably go home now.”
I shake my head. “I’m not leaving you here.”
When she looks up at me, her wide amber eyes flicker with wounded pride. “This is where I live.”
“Not tonight, you don’t. Grab some things. You’ll stay in my guest room until that asshole installs proper security and gets your door fixed.”
“What? I can’t intrude on you like that.” She shakes her head, but her eyes dart toward the patio door, broken and open to the cold night. She’s smart enough to know that staying here isn’t an option.
“Is there anyone else you can stay with?” I ask, and grind my teeth when I realize I hope the answer is no.
“My friend Pippa…but it’s way too late to call her.” Cat lets out a long breath. “I could stay at a motel.”
The look on my face must say it all because she purses her lips and huffs.
“Fine. I’ll go pack.”
“Great. I’ll be right outside.”
Once I’m outside and out of earshot but not out of eyeshot, I dial my business manager. The phone rings three times before he picks up.
“This is John,” he says blearily. It’s not the first time I’ve woken him up, but as always, he’s too much of a professional to complain.
“3534 Beckett Street,” I say. “Buy it.”
If Steve can’t manage basic security for his buildings, it’s time for someone qualified to take over.
I hear John typing on the other end. “Four-story apartment building?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Looks pretty run down, boss.”
“Did I ask how it looked?”
“Right. Checking for the listing now. Hmm. Doesn’t look like it’s for sale.”
"Everything's for sale if you offer the right price.” I tap my foot, impatient to get this done. Cat will be out any second.
“Buy the building and then get one of my lead guys from UPS over there to install proper security throughout the entire thing with increased measures and tamper proof glass in all street level apartments. I want the deal done and closed and the security installed by next Friday."
Cat steps out onto her small patio and turns to close the door, laughing darkly to herself when she remembers it's broken.
“But Nate, that’s—”
“Just get it done,” I growl before hanging up as Cat quickly rushes over to me.
“Everything okay?” she asks, picking up on my mood and probably thinking the shift is because of her.
I may not be able to let her stay here, but it’s not like I want a roommate, either.
I’ve never had one before, and something tells me this one in particular is not a good idea.
John better work his magic fast. The sooner I can get her out of my condo, the better.
I can’t afford the distraction. Not with some of the biggest deals of my career on the table.
I clear my throat and wave an arm toward my Porsche 911. “Yeah. Everything’s good. Shall we?”