4. Alexei #3
I slow near the doorway. Maggie sits on the edge of the bed with the book open in her lap.
Ivy lies beneath the blankets on her side, while Winston occupies enough of the mattress for a dog three times his size.
Daisy rests on the rug near the foot of the bed, head on her paws, one eye open as if she intends to remain on duty all night.
Maggie keeps reading while Ivy fights sleep. She gives each sentence warmth, but not performance. Ivy’s eyelids grow heavier with every page. Maggie reaches the end of the chapter and closes the book with care.
“You want the rest tomorrow?”
Ivy nods, her curls rubbing against the pillow. “Okay.”
Maggie tucks a curl behind Ivy's ear, affection evident in the gesture. “Good, because I’m fixin’ to fall asleep before you do.”
“No way,” Ivy murmurs.
A yawn follows so quickly that Maggie laughs under her breath. “That was some convincin’ evidence.”
Ivy’s lips move into a small smile. Then sleep finally pulls her under.
Maggie remains beside her smoothing the blanket over Ivy’s shoulder and glancing toward Winston when he inches farther across the bed.
Daisy doesn’t move from the floor. Neither dog appears willing to leave her tonight, which makes four of us guarding a six-year-old girl who never should have needed this much protection in the first place.
When Maggie rises, I step back from the door.
She eases it closed behind her, turns into the hallway, and nearly walks straight into me. One hand flies to her chest while the other braces against the wall.
“Good grief.” Her breath leaves in a rush, and she glares up at me. “Do you make a habit of standin’ outside doors scarin’ people half to death?”
“I was checking on Ivy.”
“Mmhmm.” Her voice is full of suspicion.
My eyes move to the rabbit. “Mr. Bun Bun has survived the evening?”
“He’s become a permanent member of the household.” Maggie studies the rabbit and holds it a little higher. “Apparently, he’s emotionally essential.”
“For Ivy?”
“For all of us, at this point.”
I almost laugh.
The conversation grows easier for a heartbeat. Then Maggie's grip on the rabbit tightens. She looks toward Ivy's bedroom door, then down the hallway. Fear has been following her since the shelter. It hasn't gone anywhere.
“I can’t stop thinkin’ about him,” she whispers.
I know who she means before she says another word. “The attacker.”
Maggie nods. She swallows hard once before she looks back at me.
I gesture toward the sitting area at the end of the hallway. “Come sit with me.”
For once, she doesn’t argue. We walk together to the small sofa beneath the dark window. Maggie lowers herself onto the cushion and sets the rabbit beside her, then folds her hands in her lap so tightly her knuckles pale.
“I keep seein’ his face.” Her voice is quiet, but not uncertain. “Every time I close my eyes, there he is.”
I sit beside her, leaving enough space that she can choose whether to remain or pull away. “Tell me.”
She looks toward the glass for a moment. “Dark hair. Brown eyes. Scar near his jaw, right here.” She lifts one trembling finger to her own jaw. “Not big, but enough that I’d know him again. Italian accent. Calm voice.” Her hand drops back into her lap. “Too calm.”
The details sink in one at a time, and each one points toward the same conclusion. The men who came for Ivy weren't improvising. Someone planned this, paid for it, and expected it to succeed.
Maggie turns toward me, reading more from my silence than I'd like. “That’s bad, isn’t it?”
I hold her eyes. “It is.”
A strained laugh leaves her, empty of humor. “Well. That’s unfortunate.”
“Maggie.”
“He knows I saw him.” She rubs both hands over her face, then drops them again. “Don't downplay it. He knows.”
I say nothing, because she’s right. The man who escaped knows her face, knows she fought for Ivy, and knows she gave a statement to the police. A witness who can identify him is not only dangerous to the person who held the gun. She’s dangerous to whoever paid him.
“You’re not returning to the shelter.”
Her head turns toward me at once. “Alexei.”
“Maggie.”
“No, Alexei.” She sits straighter, fear giving way to frustration. “I have a job. I have animals dependin’ on me. I have volunteers who are scared and donors who might vanish if I disappear right when everyone needs reassurance.”
“You have a target on your back.”
“And hidin’ here won’t change what happened.”
“It might keep you alive.”
That stops her. She wraps her arms around herself, staring at nothing in particular. The anger remains, but it’s no longer winning.
I move closer, one hand resting on the cushion near her hip.
Tears gather, but she blinks them back. “I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save Irina.”
“You saved Ivy.”
Her mouth trembles once before she looks down at her hands. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”
I reach for her. My thumb brushes along her cheek.
Her fingers rise to my wrist, not to pull me away, but to hold me there. Her pulse beats quickly beneath my thumb. Her eyes move to my mouth. I feel the choice in that look before either of us moves.
I lean in and she meets me.