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“I’m good,” she lies, giving me a weak smile.
“You don’t have to hide from me, Roxy,” I say softly, reaching for her trembling hand. I squeeze it, wanting her to hear what I’m saying. “I want the truth from now on. That’s how we build trust.”
After a beat of silence, Roxy finally lets out a long, exasperated sigh as she folds in on herself. “I can’t show weakness,” she whispers. I’m not sure I heard her correctly. “If I let them get to me, they’ve won.”
“No one is invincible,” I say, though I’m unsure if I’m talking to Roxy or myself. I can relate to not wanting to let the bad guys win. Some part of me feels like if I face my dad’s death and forgive him for the vile things he did during his life, I’m letting him win.
Roxy shivers and gasps as the first tear falls. I’m right here, pulling her into my arms and cradling her while she cries out all of her anxiety, fear, and exhaustion.
When she’s done, I lean back just enough to rest my forehead on hers. Our noses are almost touching, and her warm breath skates across my lips with each exhale. “You’re safe here, Roxy,” I murmur. “You’re safe with me.”
“I know,” she whispers back. “Thank you.”
I almost don’t hear her last two words, but my already heavy heart sinks when they register. It kills me that she’s thanking me. It speaks volumes about what she’s been through that her safety is a luxury.
“There are fresh towels in the bathroom. Would a warm shower feel good?” I ask, noting how my girl is still shivering.
Roxy nods, which seems to be about all she’s capable of at the moment. I lead her to the small bathroom and turn the water on to heat before grabbing her backpack and setting it on the sink counter.
“I’ll be right out here making a few calls.”
She nods but doesn’t make eye contact.
“Hey,” I say softly as I reach out and tip her chin up with a crooked finger. Those blue eyes are rimmed in red, and her bottom lip trembles slightly as she meets my gaze. “You’re safe,” I tell her again. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
With that, I turn and leave the bathroom before I do something totally inappropriate, like kiss her pouty lips and claim her as mine.
Once I’m back in the main room, I pull out my phone and search for Watchdog Protection, Inc. A former military buddy of mine started up his own security firm with several of his friends. They handle everything from consultations for security upgrades to bodyguard-for-hire services. He was the one who suggested this job to me.
“Keaton, I was hoping to hear from you soon,” Logan says after I find the correct number and call him. “How’s the job? Not too boring, I hope.”
“Not at all,” I say with a slight smirk, thinking back to how Roxy told me her job was to keep me on my toes.
“Uh-oh. Is that good or bad?” Logan’s tone changes, and I know he’s in mission mode now.
“Both, but right now, I need your help with the bad part.”
“Both?” he questions.
“Let’s just say you’re not the only one who fell for a client.”
Logan chuckles over the phone, no doubt reminiscing about his now-wife, Spencer. The two met while he was on the job, and they’ve been blissfully married and living out their happily ever after for the last few years.
“Good for you, K. Seriously. Spencer makes me better in every way, and I hope your girl does the same for you.”
“She’s amazing,” I admit. I can feel the tips of my ears turning red and my cheeks flushing slightly. I’ve never talked this way about a woman before, and I’m afraid it’s going to be cheesy as hell. Then again, Logan understands. “But she has some relentless enemies who just escalated the threats. They broke into her house this morning and left another letter.”
I didn’t tell Roxy I read the letter while she was packing her personal things in her bathroom. I was careful not to touch the envelope or letter with my bare hands so I wouldn’t leave fingerprints. I wanted the police to have the letter, but I needed to know what it said.
“Shit,” Logan mutters, bringing me back to the present.
“Yeah. It was the worst yet. It detailed that they had been watching her. It’s only a matter of time before they silence her for good.” My stomach churns as I think about the explicit way they wrote about harming Roxy, and how no one would know.
“Whatever you need from us, we’ve got your back,” my friend assures me.
“The physical letter is with law enforcement, but I have pictures. I figured between the cops and us working on this, we should be able to find out who is doing this once and for all.”
“Send over the photos and any other information you have. I’ll have our tech guy search the evidence for clues and report back.”
