Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHASE
One Week Later - Los Angeles, California
The apartment we have rented is stunning. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city, downtown Los Angeles sprawling in one direction, the Pacific Ocean visible in the distance. The Hollywood sign is practically at eye level and the space is modern, minimalist, expensive.
Noah chose it for the security features and the isolation and I chose it for the view. This is temporary until we can find our own place, as I know Noah wants a house so we can have total privacy.
We've been here for a week, and I'm still adjusting to the newness of it all. New city and climate.
I'm standing at the window with my coffee, watching the city wake up below us, when Noah emerges from the bedroom. He's already dressed in the usual black jeans, black t-shirt. His tattoos are visible on his forearms and his rings shine in the morning light.
"You're up early," he observes.
"Couldn't sleep."
He crosses to me, wrapping his arms around me from behind. "Anxious?"
"A little." I lean back against him. "It's different here as I don't know anyone. After what happened to Ty, I can’t stop myself from overthinking as we have no safety nets here."
"We don't need safety nets."
"You don't need safety nets as you can take care of yourself," I say, and I’m annoyed at myself for being so weak.
His grip tightens slightly. "You're mine and that makes you untouchable."
I want to believe that, but I'm not naive. I know we're vulnerable here in ways we weren't in New York.
“I'm going out today, I need to scout the area. Understand the layout."
My heart rate picks up. "Can I come with you?"
"You don’t know me very well if you thought I was leaving you alone here."
“That’s true,” I say as I turn in his arms.
"You stay next to me," he says finally. "You don't wander off and you don't speak to anyone unless I tell you to. You observe only."
"Yes. I promise."
He studies my face for another moment, then nods. "Get ready, we leave in twenty minutes."
Twenty-five minutes later, we're walking through downtown Los Angeles.
The morning sun is already warm, the sky that particular shade of blue that only exists in Southern California.
Noah moves through the streets like he has lived here for years, but I notice things.
Small things. The way his eyes track upward, registering camera placements on buildings and streetlights.
The way he pauses at intersections, not just checking for traffic but assessing sightlines in all directions.
The way he positions himself on the sidewalk so he always has a clear view ahead and behind, never boxed in by crowds.
I don't ask questions. I just watch.
We walk through the Financial District first and Noah's gaze moves constantly, noting which buildings have security guards, which alleys have exits, where the blind spots are.
His attention lingers on parking structures, loading docks, service entrances.
He's mapping escape routes, I realize. Identifying vulnerabilities.
Understanding the architecture of the city in ways most people never would.
We turn onto Broadway, moving through the jewelry district. The streets are busier here, and much more crowded. Noah adjusts his pace, keeping me close as he takes my hand in his.
I notice how he positions us. Always near walls or storefronts, never in the center of the sidewalk where we'd be surrounded, creating clear paths forward and back.
We continue walking. Through Little Tokyo, where Noah's eyes track the narrow streets and tight corners.
Through the Arts District, where he notes the warehouses and industrial buildings, the places where surveillance ends and shadows begin.
Noah has an incredible memory for these things, photographic, some may say. I love watching him like this.
He doesn't explain what he's doing. Doesn't point things out or offer commentary, but I'm learning anyway. Learning through observation by watching how he moves through the city, where his attention goes, what makes him pause or change direction.
Around noon, we stop at a coffee shop in East Lake. It’s a cute, small place, outdoor seating, with good visibility of the street. Noah chooses a table in the corner with his back to the wall, a clear view of the entrance and the sidewalk.
We order coffee and sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes. I watch him watching the street. His expression is neutral, almost bored. But his eyes are constantly moving and filing every single piece of data away. I know that Noah now knows the area like the back of his hand.
"My first book sold better than I expected," I say quietly, deciding to start a conversation.
His attention shifts to me immediately. "How much better?"
"Enough that I’m earning a full time wage now."
Something flickers in his eyes, not quite pride, but close.
“Benefits to being with me after all,” he says with a smirk and I laugh.
“One of many.”
"And the sequel?"
"I'm starting it this week, blending it with our time in New York." I pause. "Disguised as fiction, of course."
"Of course." His hand covers mine on the table. "You're successful because you are using your talent, baby. It’s a great use of your knowledge.”
"I learned from the best subject."
His fingers tighten slightly. "How long is the book?"
"I’m not sure yet, I won’t know until I’m part way through, but I want it finished in the next three months."
We finish our coffee and continue walking through Los Feliz, where Noah notes the residential streets and their patterns. Then through Hollywood, where he notes the tourist crowds and the places where anonymity would be easy.
I make mental notes as I watch him work, with how he moves through the streets like a predator learning new hunting grounds. By the time we return to the apartment, the sun is setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.
Inside, Noah locks the door behind us, then turns to face me.
"You were perfect today. Watching me work, understanding what I am."
"I always understand what you are."
“Then you know what’s about to happen.”
Heat floods through me. "Hell, yes."
He leads me to the bedroom, and I follow willingly, because this is what we are, a blend of opposites, two worlds meshing into one, where the dark starts to spread into the light.
It's terrible and beautiful, the perfect love story.
Just like us.