Then it all comes back to me—the girl.
My head whips around, eyes scanning the five hundred square feet fully expecting to find it empty. For her to be gone like she promised she would be.
Instead I’m surprised to discover my houseguest remains. She stayed put through the night.
She refused the rollaway bed I offered her and stubbornly parked herself in one of the kitchen chairs. Her head is bowed forward, tucked into the arms she’s folded on the table.
Sheactuallyfell asleep.
A brief second passes where a vague sense of pity pulses through me. The girl must’ve been exhausted to sleep in a chair the way she has, shoulders slumped and glasses set down beside her.
She was sleeping in the fucking backroom of the pub for Christ’s sake.
I run a hand through my rumpled hair and get out of bed. She seems to sense sudden movement in the room and jolts awake.
“Morning,” I grunt.
“Stayed put,” she murmurs, sitting up straighter and rolling her neck. “Satisfied?”
“I won’t be satisfied ’til you’re outta my hair,” I answer bluntly. I’ve crossed the room to the kitchenette, pulling open a cabinet and grabbing the ingredients for my morning protein shake. I’ve already fucked up my morning workout; the last thing I need to do is fuck up my diet.
“I would’ve been out of your hair if you’d just let me go,” she points out, sliding her glasses back on. “It’s not like I asked to spend the night here.”
“You certainly didn’t help matters when you refused the police and shelter.”
“I told you?—”
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” I interrupt in between tossing ingredients in the blender, my most used kitchen appliance. The only one I really use other than the stovetop to grill meat. “I’m taking you to the police station. You’re gonna be a good girl and tell them everything—who you are, who’s after you, all of it. They’ll put you in protective custody where you’ll be safe and outta my hair. Everybody wins.”
“No.”
I press the start button on the blender. The small studio fills with the loud mechanical whirring of the blades slicing into the chunks of banana and gobs of peanut butter, among other ingredients.
Once it’s satisfactorily blended and I’ve got a good thick sludge going, I rip the pitcher off the base and chug half the shake in a single gulp.
“No?” I grunt once I have. “That the only word in your vocabulary?”
“Hell no.”
I choke on my second taste of the protein shake. It’s really a laugh.
This fucking girl drives me insane… but I’d be a liar if I said Sean wasn’t half right about her—sheismildly entertaining in a no-fucks-given sorta way.
“That’s too bad. Because it doesn’t matter what you say. You’re going.”
“I already told you last night,” she blurts out angrily. More passion in her voice than I’ve heard in the hours since I’ve met her. “The cops can’t protect me. Half of them are on Fedorov’s damn payroll. I’d be dead within forty-eight hours.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know it better than you do. I’ve spent half my life as his captive! You don’t think I know better than anyone how he operates?!”
We slip into another glare off as we both dig our heels in and refuse to give in. She’s stubborn as hell, but I already knew that.
Most people would’ve caved once I started eyeing them like I’m about to crush their skull, but this girl simply doubles down. It’s as if no threats faze her.
Maybe after what she’s been through… few things can.
I heave a ragged breath and drain the last bits of the protein shake. What I’mreallydoing is stalling, trying to figure out my next move.
