Page 53 of The Fixer

Devereux. I was sure she was referring to Devereux. Just as I was sure the man had never once stepped foot on the property.

I held her in my arms, pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I’m here for you,” I promised, the vow issued from deep in my soul. “Whatever you need, you only have to ask.” She squeezed me, hands spread wide across my back. She buried her face in my chest, pressing in before looking up. “Why are you so good to me? What did I ever do to deserve someone like you to look out for me?”

Squeezing my eyes closed, I pulled her tight against my chest. She deserved someone so much better than me. I was about to tell her so when her lips pressed to my cheek.

“Come on,” she told me, stepping back, out of my grip, and stealing my breath. Her smile was dazzling, her brown eyes glimmering with gold. “I want to introduce you to Meg.”

Eliza tugged me along behind her, sweet laughter flowing free. And in that moment, there was nothing in the world that would stop me from following her. That laughter was the hope that swelled like a foreign being inside my chest. Tempting me with heaven even though I was destined for hell.

“Meg!” Eliza called when we’d stepped inside the back door. And her boss turned, dark eyes flaring as if she sensed danger, as they settled onto me. “Meg, you’re here!”

Eliza dropped my hand, raced across the short space between the door and her boss. Wrapped her arms around the older woman as that woman stared me down.

“What are you doing here?” Meg asked, pulling back. She turned her gaze to Eliza, though her attention never fully left me.

Eliza prattled on while I stayed where she left me. Telling Meg how much she missed her. How much she missed the women at the shelter, the work they did there. I watched, lips quirking while Eliza’s energy bounced, the girl a different person than the one I’d grown to know the past week. Gone was the quiet, cautious girl. Here, she was bold. Strong. Capable of helping those who needed it, capable of helping herself.

I was entranced, mesmerized by more than her beauty. Spellbound by the gracious woman who came alive within these walls. So hypnotized by the life that flooded her that, for a moment, I lost myself. A moment long enough for the two women to cross the space between us.

“Meg, this is my friend, Jet. He’s…” Shy eyes slid to the floor as her chin ducked, head twisting to the side as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s been helping me out.” Chocolate eyes peeked up at Meg, as if searching for her approval.

And fuck, if that look didn’t twist something inside me. A knife blade digging in, tugging at the pounding in my chest.

Meg gave Eliza a smile that grew tight when she turned it on me. Chin raised, she extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Jet.”

“Likewise,” I told her, the shake of my arm as stiff as my back.

“Would it be okay if I went out front?” Eliza asked, the question posed to the both of us. “I’d love to say hi to some of the girls.”

“Of course,” Meg told her, eyes darting to me. “Though, perhaps it’d be best—”

“I can stay back here,” I rushed out.

“Oh!” Eliza ran her gaze over me. Across my body, down my chest and arms, descending the long length of my legs. As if, for the first time, she saw me. In my black jacket and slacks and white button-up shirt, the power and the danger emanating from my being. “Oh,” she said, much quieter, piecing Meg’s unfinished sentence together with my hurried words.

Those women up front, they were here for a reason. Because dangerous men used their own power to hurt and abuse.

“Are you sure? I don’t have to.”

“Go,” I told her, hand gravitating to hers, and I’d be lying if I said something in my stomach didn’t flip when she reached out to grab it. “Take as long as you need. I’ll be fine here.”

“If you’re sure?”

“Go.” I couldn’t help it. I dropped another kiss to her forehead before she left, wishing there was more but knowing there couldn’t be.

Eliza grabbed Meg’s arm and, together, they left the room. Left me to grip my hair as my soul thrashed. Left me to pace and worry, the girl out of reach for the first time in a week. Left me to stand at the one-way glass window, pining after her.

I was a junkie, needing my fix of the girl who’d wound herself around me and into my life. Some terrified part of me railed against the thought of ever letting her go. I couldn’t let anything happen to her. I couldn’t let her walk away.

I’d do anything to bring her back.

Since I’d been cut off from my life—my friends, the only family who truly accepted me the way I was, and the thing that had taken up every second of free time since I was fifteen— there was little I could do while I waited. I paced, I sat, I stood, I repeated. I tried to be patient, tried not to claw at my skin, to pull my gun, to go racing into the other room to save Eliza from whatever dangers lurked beyond these walls.

Meg found me perched on the edge of her desk, and she raised a dark brow at me as she entered the room. Tension brewed, making the air hot and thick, as the woman stared me down as if willing to break my neck.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, repeating her earlier question, arms crossed over her chest.

“I’m taking care of her,” I murmured, tugging a hand through my hair.