Page 62 of No Good Fight

“Oh?” I ask. “You planning on doing manly brooding?”

“Probably.” He smirks.

That almost gets a real smile from me. Almost. “Thinking inappropriate thoughts about me?”

His eyes sharpen, and the heat in them makes my pulse jump.

“Bed, Allycat,” he says, voice rough enough to make the word feel like a reward and a warning at the same time.

“There are so many jokes I could make right now.”

“I know. Save them for when I’m not hanging on by a thread.”

The honesty sends a hot, quiet thrill through me, but I let him have the retreat. He starts to close the door, then pauses with his hand on the knob, half his face still visible in the hall light.

“It was always you,” he says again.

The door closes softly before I can answer.

I stand in the guest room until his footsteps move away down the hall and descend the stairs. A minute later, the low murmur of the fire department scanner rises from below, followed by the faint electronic chirp of the security monitor.

Ryder watching the feeds.

Ryder keeping himself downstairs, when he told me point blank that he wants me.

I think about locking the door. Keeping Ryder out. But…honestly, I almost wish I’d wake up with him there, wrapped around me. Protecting me from everything except myself.

Shaking that thought off, I turn to the waiting bed. The rain taps the window, and somehow I feel safer than I have in a long time.

For the first time all night, I let myself breathe.

11

RYDER

The security feeds glow blue-white across my living room while Alex pretends to sleep upstairs.

I’m on the couch with the scanner low on the coffee table, my phone facedown beside an untouched glass of water, and every light in the house off except the lamp in the corner and the monitors showing the outside of my house from five different angles. Front porch. Driveway. Garage. Back door. Side yard. I told Alex about every camera. No more secrets. At least, not from her.

Alex didn’t close or lock the guest bedroom door.

My obsessive brain keeps coming back to that, because it would be so easy to stand, cross the living room, take the stairs, and check on her.

Just check. I don’t need to touch her.

The lie sits there, ugly and familiar, while I lean forward and brace my elbows on my knees.

Of course I fuckin’ need her. I need her more than I need to eat.

There’s a reason she’s here, with me, instead of her family.

And I will be damned if I walk away or do anything to drive her away now that I have her. That’s not even remotely possible. Not anymore.

The couch creaks beneath my weight. I stare at the front porch feed until my eyes burn, but the image doesn’t change. Empty steps. Wet railing. The black shine of the driveway beyond the porch light.

My phone buzzes against the table, and I check it out of habit.

Remy: Parker sent the Lucy’s footage. Preston left through the back after you got Alex outside. No plate yet. We’re checking street cams.