Chapter 13
Ridge
Robyn finally pulls up to an apartment block I recognize. It looks different during the day. It’s only around five stories high, with palm trees at the front entrance.
Her indicator blinks on, and she steers down a ramp at the side of the building, into the underground parking.
I watch her dark blue Audi disappear into the mouth of it.
There’s a boom gate at the bottom, a small black panel mounted on a steel post, and her brake lights flare for two seconds.
She lowers the window, and her hand comes out. Then the gate lifts and she’s gone.
I note that there doesn’t seem to be a guard at the entrance, but perhaps there is one patrolling inside.
I pull into the visitors’ parking out front. Then I jump out, clicking the lock key as I walk away, eager to get to Robyn.
I’m feeling a little on edge since the incident at the store. I go down the ramp and through an unlocked pedestrian entrance into the underground parking area.
I don’t like it at all.
Although there are plenty of cameras down here, I note that there are too many blind spots here as well.
A sedan beeps three rows over, and a woman in heels makes her way to the resident’s door at the far end of the level.
I stand in the middle of the lot and watch her.
She doesn’t look at me once. She walks straight to the door, puts her thumb on a small biometric reader on the wall, and the door clicks open.
She’s inside in less than four seconds. The door shuts automatically behind her.
This is a little better.
Robyn gets out of her car. She’s pulled into a bay near the back, the one closest to that same resident door. She’s lifting her grocery bags out of the trunk, two in each hand, and she’s got that small frown going.
I cross the lot toward her, and she jumps as I get closer.
“Sorry,” I tell her. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine.” She blows out a breath. “How did you get down here so quickly? I was about to come out and find you.”
“The pedestrian gate is unlocked.”
“Oh, yeah.” She nods. “It’s unlocked during the day and is normally locked at night.”
“Normally?” I lift my brows.
“They sometimes forget.”
This building is a shit show.
“We don’t get much trouble.”
I make a noise that – I hope – conveys my irritation.
I take the bags out of her hands.
“I can manage.”
“I’m sure you can. Show me how you get to your apartment from here.”
“Sure thing.” When we get to the resident door, she puts her thumb on the reader. There’s a small green flash. The lock disengages.
She pushes the door open, and I pull it closed, putting my thumb to the reader. It makes a beeping sound and goes red.
“Happy?”
“Marginally,” I mutter.
She uses her thumb to unlock the door again, and we go through.
I follow her into a lobby, which I barely remember.
The last time I was here, I was so excited to be inside Robyn that I didn’t pay much attention to anything else.
The area has been done in white and stone.
There’s a long bench against one wall with a potted fig that is too healthy to be real.
A reception desk off to the right. It’s empty, with a chair pushed neatly under it and a clipboard sitting on top.
“There’s no one at the desk,” I remark.
“There never is. They had a guy in the evenings for about six months when I first moved in, but they cut the position due to costs.”
“So the desk is just for show?”
“Pretty much.”
I look up and see two cameras at the far end. Then I go outside and spot only one camera, leaving a whole section dark.
I clench my jaw.
I will sort it out first thing tomorrow morning, along with anything else I find.
“Come up. Look at whatever you want to look at. I’m really tired and could do with a hot bubble bath.”
I start to picture how she would look naked in the tub, and stop myself.
We get to the elevator. She presses the button.
The doors open, and we step in, and the air in this small steel box is suddenly tighter than it was thirty seconds ago because the last time I was in here, she had her cheeks burning red and one hand twisted in the front of my shirt.
Her hair smelled like coconut. I walked out of this elevator a good couple of hours later with a few new scratches down my back.
I look straight ahead. So does she. This is awkward.
The doors open on the fourth floor. She leads me to the apartment at the end of the hall and unlocks the door after looking through her purse for a few seconds.
I look at the door itself while it’s open. It’s a standard residential lock. Not good enough by a mile.
We step inside, and I check to see if she has a chain as well. She doesn’t.
Dammit!
I move past her to the open-plan kitchen and put the bags down on the white quartz. She comes in behind me, drops her own bag on a side table, and kicks off her shoes near the door.
“I’m going to take a walk through your apartment now,” I say. “Mind if I open things?”
“Whatever makes you happy,” she says, unpacking the groceries.
I go into the living room and look around. There’s a bookshelf packed full of paperbacks. I cross to the sliding doors at the far end and check the lock. It’s a basic latch that is easy to pop open.
The door opens onto a small balcony. I step out.
The fire escape is right there. A black metal staircase that runs from the roof down past every balcony on this side of the building.
Anyone with even a basic level of fitness could climb it and be standing on this exact patch of tile in under three minutes.
I check the railing where it meets the wall, the way the staircase angles past the balcony. I lean over the rail and look down.
“Do you ever leave windows open?” I ask Robyn as I walk back inside.
“Sometimes. The bedroom window, if it’s warm. The kitchen one too, when I’m cooking.”
“Even when you go out?”
She pauses in the middle of folding up an empty paper bag and shrugs. “Sometimes. Like I said, we’ve never had any issues.”
“Don’t do that going forward.”
She looks up. “Okay.”
I’m glad when she doesn’t give me any shit. However, I’m not sure she’s going to take my advice.
“Here’s the thing: it’s easy to get to your balcony from the fire escape, and any idiot can pop a sliding door off its tracks. It wouldn’t be difficult to make it to your bedroom window from your living room balcony, either.
She puts the paper bag down. “O-okay. Got it. I’ll keep the windows closed.”
“Just until your security upgrade. Even then,” I push my hands into my suit pockets, “it would be safer if you err on the side of caution.”
“I will.”
“Do you have an alarm?” I’ve already swept the corners by the door, the window frames, the underside of the sideboard. I don’t see a panel anywhere. No motion sensors. There’s nothing to indicate that she has one, but I ask anyway.
“Nope. There hasn’t been a need until now.”
“We’ll fix that.”
Something tightens around her eyes.
“I’ve always felt safe on this island,” she says. “Things change.”
“They certainly do,” I agree. “I’ll have my team sort it.
There’ll be new locks on the front door and the sliding door.
I want a glass-break sensor in this room and a motion sensor in the hall.
I want a panic button in your bedroom. We’ll talk about cameras at the front door.
You can choose what you’re comfortable with. ”
She just nods.
Neither of us says anything for a beat.
“I need to see your bedroom.”
She nods, looking away, but not before I see her cheeks suffuse with pink.
I leave her in the kitchen and walk down the short hallway to her bedroom. I tell myself I’m looking at the window. I’m checking the sash. I’m noting the screen, the latch, and the angle of the fire escape from this side. I reassure myself that I’m doing my job.
And I am.
But the second I cross the threshold, the rest of it lands on me anyway, because the bed she had me in is right there, and there’s a paperback open face-down with a different couple on the cover this time.
The throw is twisted at the foot of the mattress.
The sheets are pulled halfway off and tangled at one corner.
A pair of pajama bottoms is crumpled near the bathroom door, and a small pair of black panties is on the rug right next to them.
I stop inside the doorway and stare at the floor for too long.
I remember the taste of her.
I remember the way she sounded when she came the first time, that strangled little gasp followed by every shaky breath after.
I remember the feel of her hands fisted in my hair.
The taste. The feel. All of it.
She comes up behind me and makes a small, mortified noise. “Oh god. Sorry. I was running late this morning.” She moves past me, scoops up the panties and pajamas, and balls them in her fist. “I never leave it like this.”
“It’s fine.”
“Two seconds.” She tosses everything into the bathroom hamper and pulls the bathroom door closed behind her. She comes back to the bed and starts dragging the sheet up.
Her scent is everywhere in here. Whatever shampoo she uses. Her skin. Soap from the bathroom. Fuck, but she smells good. Like candy and fresh flowers.
I lock that particular line of thinking down.
Then I cross the room, give the window a tug, check the screen, and mark the latch in my head as adequate but not great. Then I’m turning back around to look at the room as a whole.
She’s smoothing the throw at the bottom of the bed. Her cheeks are pink.
I clear my throat.
“Hmm?” She doesn’t look up.
“I don’t want to leave you here alone tonight. You’re not safe. Anyone with half a brain could break in here in a second.”
That gets her head up.
“The locks are inadequate. The fire escape is a problem. There’s no alarm. The lobby has more holes than fence wire. I don’t want you alone in this apartment tonight. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“I’ve been living here for years, and nothing has ever happened. I’m perfectly safe.”
“You’re not safe at all.”
“You’re being over the top.” She crosses her arms. “One unpleasant encounter at a grocery store does not mean someone is going to climb my fire escape with a knife between their teeth. Tomorrow you can do all of…whatever you need to do. I will be absolutely fine until then.”
“But you might not be.”
“I will be,” she insists.
“I can sleep on the sofa.”
“That’s completely unnecessary.”
“You won’t even know I’m here,” I tell her.
That earns me a look I deserve.
“I think we both know I’d know you were here.” Her voice is a little strained.
“One night.” I put up a finger.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I appreciate it. I really do. My answer is absolutely not. If you are finished with your checks, you can leave. You can have free rein of the place tomorrow. You can have my spare set of keys. How’s that?”
“I don’t like it at all, but what choice do I have?”
“None.”
“Fine.” I sigh. “You have my number. I want you to use it if you need it. If you hear something. If something feels off. I would rather you call for nothing than if…” I don’t finish. “It doesn’t matter what time it is.”
“I won’t need to call you.”
“I hope not.”
She puffs out a small laugh and waves me toward the door. “I’m going to be fine. I’m a grown woman. I’ve been managing my own apartment for years.”
I don’t move.
I want to argue with her again. I want to plant my feet in this hallway and tell her I’m staying. It would be irrational. She’s right. I’m being overprotective. Then again, she is my responsibility.
“Okay,” I push out.
“Okay?”
“For tonight. Tomorrow, first thing, my team will be here.”
“That’s fair.”
We walk back down the hallway together. The pharmacy bag is still on the counter, which makes me think of the contents.
I stop and turn to face her.
“Is there someone you can call tonight? A boyfriend, maybe?” I look over at the bag that contains a giant box of condoms and a box of banana-flavored ones, too. Banana? What’s up with that? That’s a lot of condoms for someone who is single.
I hate the idea of her having a boyfriend. Shifters are built that way, so I don’t overthink it. We don’t like to share. I fucked her, and now I don’t want to share her. It’s stupid, but I can’t help biology. I can override it with logical thinking, which is what I am doing right now.
She looks at me for a long second, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking.
“It’s a simple question. Do you have a boyfriend who could stay with you tonight? It would make me feel much better.”
She studies me for a beat.
“Yes, I have a boyfriend.” She squares her shoulders. “I’ll call him. He would be happy to stay the night,” she says.
Of course he would. Lucky bastard!
I’m not sure why I thought she was still single, given how intelligent, successful, and fucking beautiful she is.
I am an asshole for the small, sour twist that hits my chest.
We had sex one time. Months ago.
She is on a list at the Council. She is somebody I am here to investigate. She might be passing information off the island. She might be exactly what they think she is, and I don’t even know her well enough to tell.
I need to get my head out of my ass.
“Good,” I make myself say. “Lock the door behind me. Don’t open it until your boyfriend gets here and then lock the place down tight for the night.”
“Yes, Commander.” There’s a hint of her old wiseass side in it, and I hate that I like it.
“I mean it.”
“I know you do.”
I step out into the hallway. She’s standing in the doorframe in her socked feet, ponytail still messy from a long day, one shoulder against the jamb.
“Goodnight, Ridge.”
“Goodnight, Robyn.”
The door clicks shut, and she locks it.
Good!
I walk back down the hall.
My dragon starts clawing at my chest at the thought of her boyfriend walking through that door tonight.
I wish I had permission to shift and to fly. I’m not due until Wednesday afternoon, and at this rate, I might have to cancel.
Then I think about going to a bar and picking up someone to lose myself in for the night, but the thought is unappealing.
I’ll go home and try to get some rest.
For half a beat, I’m tempted – once again – to speak with Reed about finding someone else to do this job, but I’m already too invested.
I’ll see it through.