Page 37 of Gunnar

“Good idea—” Orson blurts.

The sound that leaves me isn’t human.

It rips out of my chest before I can stop it.

Everyone jumps.

“I make the decisions around here,” I thunder.

Alexandria doesn’t shrink though.

Instead, she straightens her spine.

And my desire for her shoots up another ten notches.

“You’re in a lot of danger, Alexandria,” I say more quietly. “And there’s nowhere in the entire country where you’ll be safer than here.”

Her gaze flickers toward Orson.

“He’s committed to protecting you too,” I add. “No matter his lack of manners.”

Orson grunts.

“It’s clan protocol.”

Alexandria drags a hand across her forehead. “I kept waking up last night,” she says. “Thinking about that guy coming for me. That look in his eyes when he said he would.”

Her throat works. “I’m not looking for a guesthouse setup. I just want to stay alive.”

She slumps into a chair. Her fists are clenched in front of her, so tight the knuckles go white.

“And I need to know my cat and my mom are okay. I don’t trust those cops to care.”

I nod.

“Maybe there’s a way I can check on them,” she continues. “I’ve got a friend who lives nearby.”

“That could work,” I say. “Do you have a number for her?”

“No.”

Her face falls.

“It’s in my phone. Everything is in my phone.”

She gives a helpless little laugh.

“You don’t realize how much your life lives inside that stupid brick until something like this happens.”

For a moment none of us say anything.

“Right before everything went sideways,” she adds, “I was walking to my car, wondering if I had milk in the fridge.”

The laugh that escapes her this time is sharp and brittle.

“And now here I am.”

I open my mouth to reassure her that the cops will keep their word. Then I close it again. I don’t trust that gray-haired asshole as far as I could throw him. I’m sure her mom and her cat are very low priority for him.