Before I can assure her of that, she sneers, “Is this a set up? Did you arrange this so you could gallop in like some kind of savior on a white horse?”
What the fuck?Shouldn’t she be hostile with the man who snuck into her apartment with the intent to harm her, not the one who stopped it from happening?
“This wasn’t my doing,” I fire back, shadowing her to her apartment door.
My words don’t come out as strong when she attempts to slam her door in my face. Thankfully, the wood is too warped to shut without extreme force.
“That was me,” I admit somewhat cockily. “I came back to apologize for the way I behaved. I heard moaning and groaning. When you failed to answer my numerous calls, I found my own way in.”
“Because all accountants carry guns, break down doors, and harass women until they can’t get themselves off!” She freezes, stunned she vocalized her last confession.
“I’d strap napalm to my chest before I let anything happen to you, Rae.”
Hearing the honesty in my words, Regan’s angry stance weakens.
I take a step closer to her. “You’re scared. That’s okay—it’s perfectly natural in these types of situations to release your adrenaline in a negative way.”
“I’m not scared,” she assures, her low tone hindering her objective. “I’m annoyed. Frustrated.” Our eyes meet before she says, “Sick of being lied to. Tell the truth, Alex. Are you an accountant?”
My eyes stray to the flashing contraption hanging in the corner of her hallway. The vein thrumming in Regan’s neck pulsates when she follows my gaze. Realizing this isn’t a conversation she wants recorded by her boss’s surveillance camera, she reluctantly invites me into her apartment with a wave of her trembling hand.
Within seconds of us entering the foyer, I cup her jaw in my hands. The violent quiver of her lips relaxes from my gesture. She’s putting on a brave front, but she is petrified. I understand. The threat was one of the most intense I’ve seen. It didn’t just threaten mutilation; it mentioned numerous body-degrading things.
After three gentle strokes of her white cheeks, I shake my head to her earlier question.
She releases a sharp breath. “You’re not an accountant?” She sounds disappointed, as if she’d grown accustomed to the idea that I’m just a standard, regular guy.
“No,” I reply with a twist of my lips. “I’m similar to an investigator.”
I wish I could tell her the truth, but since I can’t, this must do.
“An investigator?” When I nod, she adds on, “Like a PI?”
I grimace. Those guys are the worst of the worst. “Kinda.” Although it is only one word, it kills me to say it.
I joined the agency because I wanted to bang my chest and proudly declare I am an agent at the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I thought the title would make women swoon like the stay-at-home moms did any time my dad arrived to pick me up from school. When you’re six, you have no idea that popularity isn’t solely gained by a job title. It takes a shit ton more effort than that. Fortunately for both the Bureau and me, I fell in love with the job more than the praise.
Although I’m not seeing it with the same esteem right now.
My eyes drop to Regan when she questions, “Have you investigated incidents like this before?”
“Uh-huh. That’s why you’ll do precisely what I tell you to do at the exact time I tell you to do it.”
My heart rate breaks into a can-can when anger flashes through Regan’s eyes, proving my attempt to goad her paid off. I much prefer her temperamentally unhinged than on the verge of crying like she was mere seconds ago.
With a stomp of her foot showing years of study didn’t tarnish her diva attitude, she shouts, “Like hell I am!” She breaks away from me, her strides as wobbly as the vehement snarl of her top lip.
I shadow her to a fancy crystal bar at the side of her living room. “We either do this the hard way or the easy way, Regan. I’ll get pleasure from them both.”
She slams down the tumbler of whiskey she was in the process of pouring to glue her eyes to mine. “No man but my daddy tells me what to do, so why the hell would I listen to you?”
“Because you know I’ll keep you safe. That I’ll never let anything bad happen to you,” I reply without pause for thought.
The little vein in her neck that’s been working overtime since I walked in on her bathing stops fluttering when I take a step closer to her. I can see in her eyes she wants to deny my statement, but the honesty of my pledge is too potent to deny. I will protect her. I will keep her safe. And I will do it all without having her beneath me.
When Regan remains quiet, I strengthen my campaign. “You either let me investigate this case, or we call in the authorities.”
From how her face pales, anyone would swear I just told her I’m her brother. She’d rather prostitute herself out than have police enter her premises. I don’t know which notion pisses me off more.
