Chapter 6
6
ROXIE
R oxie adjusted her bag on her shoulder, the night air cool against her skin as she walked from the parking lot to her apartment. Why was it that so many people thought nothing of taking other people’s assigned slots? And why was it that on a chilly night when she was tired and felt like shit that she had to park at the other end of the lot? The night was still, easily more quiet than usual, the hum of distant traffic the only sound breaking the stillness. Her boots tapped against the cracked pavement, the rhythm a small comfort as her mind wandered.
The shift had been long, her back ached, and her head still throbbed faintly from her injury. But at least it was over. She’d survived another day, and that was enough.
She glanced over her shoulder and wondered which vehicle contained Gavin’s men. She knew they were out there and even though she’d be loathe to admit it, she took some comfort in that. Out on the street, the faint glow of headlights in the distance caught her attention. The car was moving slowly, its engine low and steady.
Roxie frowned but kept walking, her pace quickening slightly. It was probably nothing—just someone looking for a parking spot or trying to find their way. Still, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, a faint unease settling in her chest.
The headlights stayed with her, the car inching closer.
“Don’t be paranoid,” she muttered under her breath, gripping the strap of her bag tighter. “It’s just a car.”
But her pulse quickened despite herself, and when she glanced back again, the car had closed the gap.
The engine roared suddenly, shattering the quiet night. Roxie’s stomach twisted as the car surged forward, the tires screeching against the pavement as it veered into the parking lot at high speed.
“Shit!” she yelped, her instincts kicking in as she darted to the side.
The car swerved, the front bumper narrowly missing her as she stumbled into the small space between two parked cars. Her bag slipped off her shoulder, hitting the ground with a dull thud. She still had her keys in her hand, but she wasn’t sure what good they would do her against someone in a car trying to run her down.
Panic clawed at her chest as she turned to face the car. It stopped abruptly, the engine growling like a predator sizing up its prey.
Where were Gavin’s men? Her heart raced as she tried to process what was happening. Was this real? Who would?—
The car lurched forward again, its tires squealing as it aimed straight for her.
Out of nowhere, a strong arm hooked around her waist, yanking her back with such force her feet left the ground. Roxie let out a startled cry as she collided with something solid—a wall of muscle that held her tight.
“Stay down!” a deep voice growled in her ear.
Gavin. Thank god.
Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, he moved, shielding her with his body. As the car skidded to a stop, Gavin reached behind him and pulled out a wicked-looking handgun. He fired two shots. The car hesitated for a heartbeat, then screeched off into the night.
Roxie’s breath came in short, panicked gasps as she clung to him, her fingers digging into his shirt. She could feel the heat of his chest, the steady thrum of his heart.
“Are you okay?” Gavin asked, his voice rough, his lips close to her ear, as he holstered the gun and wrapped his arm around her.
She nodded weakly, her words caught in her throat.
“Roxie,” he said more firmly, pulling back just enough to look down at her. “Are you hurt?”
“I… I don’t think so,” she stammered, her hands trembling as they slid down to her sides. “What the hell just happened?”
“Someone just tried to kill you,” Gavin said bluntly, his jaw tight as he scanned the street, his body still angled protectively in front of hers.
Roxie blinked, the reality of his words slamming into her like the car had almost done. “Kill me?”
His eyes met hers, his expression hard but laced with concern. “Yeah. And they damn near succeeded.”
Her knees buckled, but Gavin caught her before she could hit the ground, sweeping her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest. “Hey, hey. Breathe, Roxie. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
The warmth in his voice steadied her, though her heart still hammered against her ribs. “Who… who would do this?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Gavin said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
He carried her up the stairs. She protested, but only weakly. He acted like her weight was nothing to him, and the sound of his strong heartbeat soothed her in a way nothing ever had before. Roxie’s mind raced, her thoughts a chaotic jumble of fear and confusion.
He bent slightly at the waist in front of her door. “Unlock the door, baby. They’re gone and I’ve got you. I want to get us inside and call for backup.”
“This can’t be happening,” she whispered, staring at the faded and peeling paint inside her apartment.
Why weren’t people coming out of their apartments to help or at least to see what was going on? Gavin had fired two shots for god’s sake. Then she asked herself, would she have ventured out to see what was going on? Probably not.
“Trust me, it is,” Gavin said, carrying her inside and kicking the door closed behind him. Setting her on the counter, taking her keys and locking the door. He returned to her, his hands resting on her knees. “And it’s not a coincidence.”
She watched as Gavin scanned her apartment, his sharp gaze sweeping over the room. The peeling wallpaper, the single lock on the door, the broken blinds. It was a bad joke pretending to be security.
Roxie looked at him, her eyes wide. “You think this has to do with… everything?”
“I don’t think,” Gavin said, his voice low and steady. “I know. Someone’s targeting you, Roxie, and they’re not messing around anymore.”
The solemnity of his words pressed down on her, but so did the intensity of his gaze. There was something about the way he looked at her—like she was more than a problem to solve, more than a puzzle to piece together. Like she mattered.
She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. “What do I do?”
“You stick with me,” Gavin said without hesitation. “You let me keep you safe. No more arguments.” Pulling his mobile phone out of his pocket, he made a call. “I need two units outside Roxie’s place. Somebody just tried to kill her.”
Roxie opened her mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes stopped her. There was no arrogance there, no condescension—just pure, unrelenting purpose.
“Okay,” she said finally, her voice soft.
Gavin nodded, his hand brushing hers briefly before he stood. “Come on. Let’s get you settled, and then we’re going to figure out who’s behind this.”
As she rose to her feet, Roxie couldn’t help but feel a spark of something unfamiliar amidst the fear—a flicker of trust, even safety, in the presence of the man who had just saved her life.
For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure if she was standing on solid ground. But as Gavin guided her toward her bedroom—she started to wonder how he knew where it was and realized there were only two doors out of the main room and one was clearly the bathroom. His hand was steady on her back, but she wasn’t entirely sure she didn’t want it to be there.
The faint scent of leather and Gavin’s aftershave reached her nostrils and she drank the scent in like it was a fine wine. It was a maddeningly comforting contrast to the whirlwind of anger and fear still coursing through her.
“Thanks for the rescue,” she muttered, her voice sharp and brittle. “But you didn’t need to get involved.”
Gavin laughed, not altogether humorously. “Didn’t need to? Roxie, someone just tried to run you over. What part of that sounds like something I should ignore?”
“It could’ve been a drunk driver,” she snapped, turning toward him. “You don’t know it was intentional.”
He let out another low, humorless laugh. “Drunk drivers don’t sit idling in the streets, driving up and down, waiting to pounce.”
Roxie flinched but recovered quickly, her frustration bubbling over. “So, what, now you’re my personal bodyguard? I can take care of myself, Gavin.”
“Yeah, I saw how well that was working tonight,” he shot back, his tone sharper than usual.
Her cheeks flushed, both from anger and the sting of his words. “I didn’t ask for your help,” she said, her voice quieter but no less stubborn.
“No,” Gavin said, his tone softening as he glanced at her. “You didn’t. But your friend Keely did. And for Keely to have better sense than you says something. You may not want my help, but you damn sure need it.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice clipped as she tried another tack. “It’s not your problem.”
“Wrong,” Gavin said, continuing to herd her toward the bedroom. “It became my problem the second someone tried to take you out.”
Roxie stopped abruptly on the landing, spinning to face him. “Why do you even care?” she demanded, her voice rising. “Why are you so hell-bent on playing hero when I don’t need one… don’t want one?”
Gavin stepped closer, his expression unyielding. “Because you don’t see what’s right in front of you. Someone out there wants you dead, Roxie. And I’m not about to let them get what they want.”
She stared at him, her breath catching at the intensity in his eyes. There was no arrogance there, no patronizing tone—just raw, unwavering resolve. It was maddening and… something else she couldn’t quite name.
“Stop acting like you know what’s best for me,” she said, her voice faltering slightly. “You don’t know me.”
“You’re right,” Gavin said, his voice low. “I don’t know you. Not yet. But I know enough to see you’re in trouble. And you can hate me for it all you want, but I’m not walking away.”
Roxie’s resolve wavered, the anger in her chest twisting into something closer to fear. She wandered into her bedroom. The familiar space felt smaller, darker, more suffocating than usual.
“You can’t stay here,” he said flatly, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Roxie turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”
“It’s not safe,” Gavin said, stepping closer. “The locks are crap, there’s no visibility outside, and anyone with half a brain could break in here.”
Her shoulders tensed, her fists balling at her sides. “This is my home. It’s all I can afford.”
“And it’s a target,” Gavin said, his voice softening but no less firm. “Whoever’s after you? They know where you live. They know your routines. Staying here is asking for trouble.”
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but Roxie blinked them away, her pride warring with the truth in his words. “I don’t have anywhere else to go, Gavin,” she said quietly.
“You do now,” he said without hesitation.
She looked up at him, her breath catching as his steady gaze met hers. There was no judgment there, no pity—just an unwavering promise.
“Come with me,” Gavin said. “I’ve got a secure place. You’ll be safe there until we figure out who’s behind this.”
“I don’t...”
“You don’t have to like it,” Gavin interrupted gently. “You just have to trust me. Get some things together. I’ll let the team know where we’re going.”
Roxie stared at him, her walls beginning to crack under the weight of the day’s events. The memory of the car, the screech of tires, the feel of his arms pulling her to safety—it all came rushing back, leaving her chest tight and her defenses weaker than she wanted to admit.
“Okay,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
Gavin’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but his intensity didn’t waver. “Good girl.”
She’d heard a number of the Doms use that phrase in that voice to any number of submissives. They all talked about how good it made them feel and it was as if they’d been wrapped in a warm blanket. Roxie had always thought that was a load of crap. Now? She wasn’t so sure.
As he turned toward the door, Roxie sank onto the edge of her bed, her head in her hands. For the first time in years, she felt like someone else was carrying the weight she’d borne alone for so long.
And it terrified her.
And yet, somehow, it didn’t feel entirely wrong.