TWO #2
She rocked on her feet, and he reached out to keep her from falling over. He gripped her arm for only a second before she regained her balance, but the unexpected softness of her skin registered anyway.
Rome dropped his hand.
The threat might be dangerous, but this woman was going to be harder to deal with.
* * * * *
Rome told Stina he needed to check the perimeter, then pointed to the kitchen chair like she was a dog who only understood basic commands.
“Sit there.”
He disappeared through the back door before she could tell him exactly where he could shove his orders.
Which left her sitting there.
In the chair.
Where he told her to sit.
She stared at the closed door and hated him a little more with every passing second. She hated that she’d listened to him. Hated that she was still there, with her purse clutched in her lap and her leftover pizza wrapped in a napkin inside.
She was mad at Rome.
Mad at Jolie.
Mad at her manager, the FBI, the dead man in the dumpster, her landlord who offered no leniency to a person who needed a few more days. Mad at the photo someone sent to frighten her. She hated the entire stupid day.
And most of all…she was mad that she didn’t know what to do next.
The kitchen looked like every rental house ever staged to feel warm. But nothing about the house felt normal. How could it? She didn’t know what other safehouses looked like, but she couldn’t imagine feeling safe here, even with a big, muscled man watching over her.
She needed answers, and as soon as Rome walked in that door again, she was going to get them.
She looked around at the kitchen and longed for home. Her apartment was a dump, but it was her dump. Her thrifted treasures were there. Her wardrobe she actually liked. Even the stack of bills in a neat pile was her own, even if she was one notice away from being evicted.
Now she was sitting in some strange place because a strange man decided she wasn’t allowed to go home.
No wonder you’ve had so many bad men in your life.
The words struck like daggers, so sharp she actually flinched.
She looked toward the door, half expecting Rome to appear and say it again. But the house was silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic somewhere beyond the subdivision.
No wonder you’ve had so many bad men in your life.
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her purse.
Jolie had told him things Stina would only confide to a best friend. Things said over coffee, late-night phone calls and even nights she needed to escape one of those bad men in her life and crash on Jolie’s couch.
Things she never expected a stranger with broad shoulders and a control complex to throw in her face.
Why would Jolie tell him that?
Why would she tell anybody?
The hurt tried to rise up inside her, but she shoved anger in front of it, blocking it from ever surfacing.
Her friend always worried about her, but that didn’t give her permission to hand pieces of Stina’s life to a man who didn’t know her.
She pushed out of the chair, then sat back down—not because Rome had told her to stay but because now she was finally grasping the danger.
Somebody had been watching her. Somebody had assigned a man to protect her, and now that man was dead.
Up until now, she’d been distracted by Rome. His orders. His perfectly angled jaw. His ability to make every conversation feel like a fight she was determined to win.
But now she was alone with reality.
The back door opened, and she jerked so hard her knee bumped the table. Rome stepped inside, locked the door behind him and scanned the kitchen.
His gaze landed on her. “The perimeter’s clear.”
“Congratulations are in order.”
His eyes narrowed a fraction, but he didn’t bite at her taunt. That annoyed her too, because arguing with him was so much easier than sitting with the weight of everything else.
He crossed the kitchen and checked the window lock. When he turned back to her, his dark gaze pinned her to the chair more than any order from his hard lips could have.
“House is secure. Bedroom on the right is yours. Bathroom is across the hall. Keep the blinds closed and your bedroom door unlocked in case we need to get out fast.”
She stared at him. “You make the stay sound so inviting.”
“Call out if you hear anything.”
“What if I hear you being bossy in my dreams?”
A twitch at the corner of his eye was the only indication that she might be getting on his nerves.
“Then you go back to sleep.” He gave her a look. “One more thing. I’m going to need your phone.”
She recoiled. “No way am I giving you my phone.”
“It’s for your safety, Stina. Please don’t argue.”
She stared at him for a heavy heartbeat while her mind worked through ways to get out of this. Seeing none, she pushed out a sigh and pulled the phone out of her purse.
When she handed it to him, she noticed his shoulders didn’t relax even after she did what he asked.
They carried a kind of tension that seemed carved into him.
And there were faint lines near his eyes, but he was still scanning the kitchen like the bowl of lemons could be bugged with a listening device.
“Are you going to tell me why I’m here or for how long?”
He faced her. “Even before you sent that photo to Jolie, we knew someone was after you both.”
“Who is we?”
His face was a blank mask. “My team.”
“Are you with the FBI?”
“No. Let’s just say I have the skills to protect you.”
Her skin prickled at his words, partly from fear…
Partly from how damn hot that sounded.
“We’ll stay here until I get orders to move you to another safe place.”
She stood, feeling the exhaustion of her day hit her along with the fact she was standing feet away from a man who was willing to kill for her.
“I need my things.”
“I know. I’ll make sure you get what you need.”
That wasn’t the same as letting her go home. The argument sat between them, and she was too tired to continue it.
Without a word, she walked down the hallway to the bedroom he’d assigned her. The plain space was clean and had a queen bed, a dresser and a nightstand. The curtains were already drawn over the window, and part of her wondered if a safehouse had bulletproof glass.
He’d switched on the lamp as if he’d tried to make the space more inviting.
It didn’t work.
She closed the door and almost locked it, but stopped because Rome had told her not to.
She stood in the middle of the room with nowhere to process all the things breaking loose inside her.
She was about to lose her apartment.
That agent was dead because of her.
Jolie had betrayed her by telling Stina’s secrets.
No wonder you’ve had so many bad men in your life.
The first tear fell before she had a chance to stop it, and she covered her mouth with one hand as if that could keep the rest from following.
She cried silently because the comment stabbed her deep and suddenly she was homeless and scared and didn’t know what would happen tomorrow.
Eventually she dropped her purse at the foot of the bed, kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed fully dressed. She didn’t get under the blankets—that felt too much like accepting this strange house and Rome’s rules.
She stared at the ceiling until her eyes burned.
Why did Rome’s statement about having the skills to protect her leave her feeling hot and cold at the same time?
Stina stared into the darkness.
It sounded like somebody else’s life.
The terrifying part was that everyone except her seemed to know why it had become hers.