Page 121 of Declan

“Do what? Set her out? Tell her she needs to leave? What should I do, Myles? She’s got no place to go and the only family she’s got is Wilco Pollaski, the reigning king of Chicago’s underground pussy rental. You read the same report I did. High-class escorts, cops on his payroll, local officials, ties to the mayor’s office. You don’t think every one of those assholes isn’t dipping into what Wilco’s renting? I set her out, she’s got nothing, then what? She’s forced to go back. Wilco’s already proved he’s not just a motherfucker but a sick motherfucker, giving his own flesh and blood to Ashaki Maloof, knowing she was gonna make Nat’s life a living hell. Which brings us to why the fuck would the man do that? What did Nat do to piss him off? What does she know that would cause her uncle to give her away? And why didn’t he just kill her?”

So many unanswered questions, with answers Nat had but refused to tell me.

“No, Owen, I’m not suggesting you set her out. I’m saying maybe you’re in too deep. She can come live with me.”

“Hell no.”

Myles’ eyes narrowed at my vehemence.

“That right there is why she should.”

He wasn’t wrong, I was in way too fucking deep. I cared way too fucking much. But Natasha wasn’t going anywhere.

“And what, you think we move her into your place and she’ll magically open up to you?”

“Negative. I think she’ll lock up tight. But my concern isn’t Sarah. My concern is you, and I think you need time away from her to gain perspective.”

Myles wasn’t wrong about that either—I was so wrapped in Nat I’d lost all perception of reality. I lived with a woman I barely knew. I went to bed and woke up with a stranger living under my roof, but the thought of her not being there twisted my insides. She wasn’t a puzzle I wanted to solve. It felt like she was the missing pieces that fit into mine.

The Natasha I knew was soft-spoken, considerate, a great cook, and sweet. But simmering under the cautious, shy front was something more. I’d seen it flash—the bold, the wild, dying to break free. I’d felt it under my palms, tasted it on my tongue.

My cell rang and I glanced at the display, saw Nat’s name, and didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“He found me,” she whispered and my spine snapped straight.

“Who found you?”

“My uncle.”

I shot up from my chair, tagged my keys, and started for the elevator.

“Is he there?”

“No. I checked the mail. There’s an envelope with my name on it. Posted from Chicago.”

“The house locked up? Alarm on?”

“Yeah,” she answered, still whispering.

“Where are you?”

“In your room.”

Jesus, why did knowing she’d gone into my room looking for safety make my blood heat?

I stabbed the down button and felt my chest start to burn.

“Stay there. I’ll be home in ten minutes.”

“Thank you, Owen.”

No, that made my blood heat—her soft words, her appreciation, her knowing if she called I’d come home to her.

Myles stepped into the elevator with me and stared at me expectantly. He didn’t like the situation. He didn’t like knowing I was falling for a woman who was wrapped up in some seriously bad shit. But he’d take my back.

So would Gabe and Kevin.