Page 17 of Inferno

Her mouth curved. “I have a car, Inferno.”

“I know that,” I muttered. I did know, but I was kind of going on instinct, and my instinct was to pull her close, lock her away, then go hunting. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do that.

We locked up together. She flipped the sign, killed the lights, and we stepped out into the cooling evening. Her sedan sat at the curb. My Harley waited a block down where I’d left it.

On impulse, I reached out and touched her shoulder as she opened the door to her car. “Follow me back to the compound. We can hang out and watch movies. Darby’s been asking about you too. You could exchange phone numbers…” I trailed off as she gave me a soft smile.

“Are you worried about me, Inferno?”

I scrubbed the back of my neck, then over my face. “Yeah, honey. I got a bad feeling.”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do. I’m not sure I’ve ever had anyone actually worry about me, and it means more than I can explain. But I’ll be fine. I promise to call if he gives me any more trouble.”

“You promised the last time, too, Juniper.” When she merely raised an eyebrow, I sighed and gave her a sheepish look. “Sorry.”

“Tomorrow,” she said, and it wasn’t a question. “I’ll even text you when I get home, and when I leave in the morning and when I get here if it will make you feel better.”

“Sorry,” I muttered. “You don’t have to. Just what you feel comfortable with, but I’ll be here tomorrow. OK?”

She smiled up at me and cupped my face with her hand, stroking my face. Goddamnit, I leaned into her, soaking up her touch like a dry sponge to water.

She drove back to her place and I followed. Her apartment building was three miles north of the bakery, a brick fourplex with a gravel lot and chain-link fencing around the dumpsters. She pulled into her spot and I parked across the way, under a streetlight that flickered occasionally.

She waited at her door while I caught up once she had the door open. I gently moved her so I could enter first. I thought she might protest, but she simply turned and shut the door behind me. The apartment smelled like bleach with a hint of lemon, like she’d been cleaning pretty heavily.

I did a quick check through her apartment without asking, but she didn’t protest. Instead, Juniper stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, watching me. She didn’t look scared. She looked like a woman who’d seen men do stupid things before and was adding this to the list.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“You’re worried,” she said. “I get it. What I don’t understand is why.”

I shrugged. “Do men need a reason to be protective over a woman who’s clearly at the beginning of what promises to be a spectacular breakup?”

“Look.” She sighed heavily as she moved to me. “Brett is a lot of things. Most of them asshole-ish. But he’s not dangerous.”

I couldn’t help but nod to her forearm where his fingerprints stood out like the accusation they were. “All evidence to the contrary,” I muttered.

“Inferno --”

“You’re coming to the compound tonight,” I said, sticking my chin up. Maybe if I made it an order she’d give in. I winced, knowing that was stupid.

“No, Inferno.” She sounded firm, but I plowed on.

“You can have your own room. All by yourself. Darby and the other women would love the company. Most importantly, you’d truly be safe.”

“I have to bake starting at three-thirty. Five dozen croissants, two batches of scones, and a wedding cake that needs its final decoration.” She reached for a mug in the drying rack. Filled it with water from the tap and took a drink. “I’m not hiding from Brett or anyone else.”

“This isn’t hiding. It’s being smart. Just until he settles down.”

“It’s hiding.” She set the mug down with a firm thunk. “I’m not a coward.”

“He put his hands on you, Juniper. That bruise isn’t going away by morning.”

“I know what a bruise looks like. I’ve had plenty.”

“This is different.”

“No, it’s not.” Her voice was calm even though I knew from the aggressive way she sat her water mug down there would be no talking her into doing what I wanted. “He’s an asshole. Assholes do asshole things. But I have a business to run, and I’m not rearranging my life because Brett lost his temper. He doesn’t get to occupy that kind of time in my head anymore.”