“I’ve heard you speak of him.” Blade’s brow furrows. “Dare I ask where he is?” His voice is kind, as if he already senses the horror.
Mace tucks me against his side, wrapping his arm around me. “Murdered last night.”
Blade winces, his gaze coming to me. “I’m so sorry.”
All I do is nod. It’s all I have the energy for. I can’t help but lean into Mace. I shouldn’t. We aren’t close. I don’t know why he’s treating me as if we’re far more acquainted than in actuality, but I’m not inclined to pull away. This feels too nice to stop.
Mace continues, “I’ve already called our contacts in Indianapolis to investigate.”
Blade’s brows are furrowed in deep concern as he returns his attention to Mace. “Good. I’ll get someone to cover for you. Keep me posted.”
“Thank you.” With his arm still around me, Mace leads me toward the front of the office.
The receptionist stands. She, too, looks genuinely concerned. Not surprising since she was the first person I spoke with when I entered the office. My sorrow and grief are not hidden.
“We’re going to my apartment,” Mace informs her.
She nods. “Let me know if you need anything.”
I’m dreading the elevator. It could be filled with strangers, but my concern is unnecessary because Mace leads me in a different direction. Before I know it, we’re in a stairwell. We descend one flight and step into another hallway.
Every door we go through is locked to outsiders. Mace is able to open them with a thumbprint against a keypad, including the next entrance, which I assume leads into his apartment.
I’m beyond grateful that we don’t have to order a rideshare and head across town. I don’t have the energy for one more step. I’m seconds from collapsing.
Apartment is an understatement for the home I’ve entered. It’s massive. I think there were four doors in the hallway, which means his apartment takes up a quarter of this floor.
Mace immediately bends down in front of me, lifts one of my feet, and removes my heel.
I grip his shoulders to steady myself as he does the same on the other side before tossing the offensive shoes toward the wall. He’s so astute that I nearly choke up all over again at his kindness.
“Thank you,” I murmur as he stands.
He smiles warmly and takes my hand again, guiding me toward the kitchen area. The room we’re in is a huge open-plan great room that includes a living room, kitchen, and dining room. The area is brightly lit by the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Mace sets the envelope on the island before opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water. He doesn’t release his hold on me until he has to in order to twist off the lid. “Drink, sweetheart,” he orders.
Shivers run down my spine at his choice of words and his tone. He commands me, but he does so gently. It seems incongruent, and yet, I suspect this is his natural way. Kind and bossy at the same time.
After I down half the bottle, he glances toward the envelope. “Have you gone through it?”
“Yes. Among the contents is a sealed letter with your name on it. I suspect what matters is on the thumb drive.”
He lifts a brow, turns, and carefully empties the items onto the island. He skims through the letter that was addressed to me, the one I opened. I haven’t opened the envelope with his name on it, so I don’t have a clue what it says.
Mace runs a finger over his name before returning his attention to me. “Tell me what you need first. Food, a shower, or sleep?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, but the thought of chewing and swallowing brings bile to my throat.”
He gives a curt nod. “Let’s go with a shower and then sleep.” With a finger tucked under my chin, he tips my head back. “I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting. I promise I’ll find out what happened to your father and keep you safe.”
I swallow hard, trying not to cry again, but it’s a lost cause. Mace takes the water from my hands, sets it on the island, and hauls me into his arms again. He holds me close, rocking me.
We stand like this for a long time, and I’m beyond grateful for his kindness. I need this. I need to be held. Unfortunately, being this close to Mace means more to me than it does to him. He’s just being nice. I’m incapable of not wishing it were more than that.
When he eases back, he threads his fingers with mine and angles us toward the hallway.
This is so surreal. I’m in Mace’s home in Seattle. I’ve never even been to Washington before. I’ve never been alone with the object of my ridiculous fantasies.
