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“You’re very tall,” I say, glancing up at him, hiding how affected I am by him with words.
“You’re very short,” he counters.
“Not when I have on my heels.”
His lips quirk. “I did have to lean down a little less last night than I would tonight to kiss you.”
As if I’m a schoolgirl, something about this moment heats my cheeks.
“But I promise not to kiss you tonight,” he says. “I won’t kiss you again until you trust me.” He picks up my bag. “And as proof, I’ll carry this. Your hands will be free, but mine won’t be. You’re safe.”
Safe he says, I think. I’m fairly certain there is nothing safe about this man, at least on a wholly personal level.
“Thank you,” I say, a little disappointed about the kiss, but also charmed by his reasoning.
We head outside, and with August barely behind us, the night is still warm and muggy, in the high seventies. “You said you moved here in the area?” I ask as we fall into step together.
“I am,” he says. “I’m in a house on Plum Street.”
“Oh well, that’s super close to my place, a few blocks at most.”
“How long have you been in the neighborhood?” he asks.
“Since I graduated college and started law school. I wish I could say I bought it on my own, but I didn’t. My house was a gift from my parents.”
He casts me a sideways look. “That’s very generous of them.”
“Not really,” I say. “I mean it was. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean to seem like a spoiled brat, but my father does things to get things.”
“And what did he get?”
“Me working for his law firm.”
“Aren’t you with the DA?”
“I am, but I only joined the DA two years ago. I made a lot of money working with my father, but I wasn’t happy.”
“And you’re happy now?” he asks, casting me a curious look.
“I don’t know if I’d call it happy, but I have a purpose. I fight for people who need me to fight for them. What about you? Why Walker and not the FBI now?”
“A bit of the same,” he says, “with a bit of reversal. I make good money with Walker and do right by people every time.”
“And you didn’t do right by people every time at the FBI?”
“No,” he says, cutting his stare before he glances back at me, and uses Walker to shift the topic rather abruptly back to me. “You mentioned everyone could turn dirty. Walker makes sure we have every reason to stay loyal. And it’s not just the money. We’re a family.”
The word “family” hits me hard.
That’s what I thought I’d feel at my father’s firm. I didn’t. I motion to my house. “That’s me. My front door’s on the side of the house. Weird, I know.”
We head down a sidewalk, and once we’re at the door, I key in the security code and open the door before facing him. “Thank you for walking me home. I think that warning I got today to be careful got to me more than I’d like it to have.”
“You want me to check out the inside?” he offers, and before I can answer he adds, “Don’t worry. I’m a man of my word. I’ve already promised that I’m not going to kiss you tonight. Obviously, that means we aren’t getting naked. None of that right now.”
In other words, I think, we might later, and as direct as this comment is, I appreciate the honest and bold way about him, something genuine I’ve experienced so little in my life. “All right then,” I say. “Yes, please. You checking things saves me running around with a gun in my hand on my own.”
There’s a shift in the air, a darkening to his mood. “That’s what you’re doing every time you enter your house?”
“He’s the King Devil, Rafael. And I almost believe he’s the real devil.”
He studies me for a few intense beats, in which I think he might say something, but he seems to think better of it. Instead, he glances inside the house, sets my bag on the floor in the foyer, and then catches my hand, an electric charge spiking up my arm. “Come inside the door.” He backs up and takes me with him, shutting the door behind him. “I’ll be right back,” he promises, and then he’s gone.
I lean on the wall and watch him disappear into the house, his strides long, confident, and I hold my breath, counting down until he reappears. “All clear,” he says, and as he closes the space between me and him, there’s a predatory grace about him. Right now, as he steps in front of me, I feel like his prey. And oddly, it doesn’t scare me.
He leans a hand on the wall beside me, his gaze sliding over my mouth and I know he’s thinking of kissing me, but his eyes lift and he says, “I wrote my number next to Blake’s. If anything feels off, anything at all, call me.”
