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“This is me,” he says once we’ve parked. I climb off the bike, slipping my helmet off.
“Shall I wait here?” I ask, unsure what I should do.
He chuckles. “You’re not getting this close protection thing, are you? You’re with me, Hallie.” He gestures toward an elevator across the parking lot, and I follow him. Entering the elevator, we stand in silence as the car travels up to the third floor.
“How long have you lived here?” I ask, needing to break the awkwardness.
“About three years. I’m not here a lot, though. The job takes me all over.” As the doors open, I follow him along the hallway. Stopping outside apartment fourteen, he turns to me and grimaces. “I… umm wasn’t expecting visitors, so my apartment might be a little messy.”
“It’s fine, Sawyer.”
He opens the door, and I follow him in. It’s a nice apartment, twice as big as mine with a large open-plan kitchen and living space. A hallway leads off to the left, which I’m guessing goes to the bathroom and bedrooms.
“Make yourself at home. I’ll pack some stuff.” He disappears along the hallway, and I walk farther into the apartment. For a guy, it’s tastefully decorated. Modern art fills the walls, and despite minimal furniture—a sofa, a few side tables, and a huge television on the wall—it still has a homey feel to it. Spotting a set of double doors leading out to a balcony, I cross the room and pull them open. It’s warm for early May, and the heat from the Savannah sun hits my skin. It’s late afternoon, but the sun still has some heat, and I gasp as I look out over the balcony at the most perfect view of South Beach. There are colored parasols dotted along the entire stretch of the beach, and I can hear squeals of delight from both adults and children splashing in the warm waters of the Atlantic.
“Wow, Sawyer…” I shout from the balcony. “This view is amazing.”
“It’s pretty special, isn’t it?” I spin around to see him standing on a balcony a little way up from the one I’m standing on. I hadn’t noticed it before, too taken in by the views.
“Your bedroom has a balcony? That’s so cool.”
He shrugs. “I guess. Help yourself to a drink. There are some sodas in the refrigerator.” He walks back into his bedroom, and I take one last look at the ocean, vowing to make it down here soon with the girls. It’s been too long since we had a beach day.
I’m suddenly dragged back to reality when I realize a beach day is nearly impossible with everything going on with Matt. Sure, Sawyer said I could carry on my life as normal, but I’m not stupid. I know that won’t happen until that asshole is caught. I can’t have a girls’ day at the beach with a close protection officer watching my every move.
Sighing, I close the balcony door and make my way to the kitchen. Sawyer was right when he said the apartment was a mess. Dishes litter the living room, along with empty soda cans and magazines. I hope he doesn’t think he can live like this in my apartment.
“Hey, do you want me to clean up a bit?” I call out. “If you’re going to be away for a while, all these dishes will go bad.”
“Nah, leave it. I have a house cleaner come in once a week. I’ll pay her extra this week for all the mess.”
“I bet she loves you,” I mutter while gathering all the dishes and stacking them in the sink. I take a soda from the refrigerator, then walk back through the living room, taking a seat on the balcony. I watch the people on the beach enjoying the last of the day’s sun, wishing I was down there with them, carefree and happy. Instead, I’m sitting on Sawyer’s balcony, my mind full of Matt and what happened this morning. I shudder as the images of those two men lying dead on the ground fill my mind. Despite not being cold, I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. I can’t believe I’m here running scared from a man I thought I’d escaped ten years ago.
Half an hour later, and I’m still waiting on Sawyer. My soda’s finished, and the last of the beachgoers are leaving, their arms full of towels, umbrellas, and beach toys. I stand and wander back into the living room. It’s quiet, and I slowly walk down the hallway to where I think Sawyer is packing. A door to the right is open, and I peek inside as I walk past. Seeing it’s the bathroom, I carry on down the hallway. There’s a door slightly ajar a little farther down, and I come to a stop outside it when I hear movement.
“Sawyer?” I call out, pushing lightly on the door. I gasp when the door opens, and he’s holding a gun. He lowers it as soon as he sees me, holstering it on his waistband before covering it with his T-shirt.
“Hey, Hallie. Come in. I’m almost done.” He turns back to the bed, where a mountain of clothes lies on his crumpled comforter. My eyes are drawn back to the waistband of his jeans as I slowly walk in.
“Do you really need that?” I mutter, my eyes still fixed on where the gun is stored.
“Need what?” he asks, his back to me. When I don’t answer, he turns around.
“The gun. Do you really need the gun?”
His hand drops to where it’s holstered. “I’ll probably never need to use it, but I always carry it whenever I’m working.” My eyes widen when I think of him bringing it to my apartment. He rakes his hand through his dark hair. “It’s just in case, okay? What you saw today has left you shaken. I can’t say I’m surprised. Guns aren’t good in the wrong hands. But I’m careful with mine. The safety is always on. Okay?”
“Okay,” I mumble. He throws a handful of clothes from the bed into a carryall. I frown. “How are we going to get that on the bike?”
“We’ll take my car back to Savannah.”
“Oh, okay.” Even I can hear the disappointment in my voice, and I know for sure by the look on his face he’s heard it too.
He smirks, and I roll my eyes. “You wanted to go on the bike, didn’t you?” he teases. “I knew you’d end up liking it.”
I smile. “I’ll wait for you in the living room.” My attempt at sounding flippant doesn’t work. He’s right. Despite hating the motorcycle at first, I loved it once I’d put my fear to the side. I still don’t one hundred percent feel comfortable with Sawyer. It will take more than a couple of hours with him before I let my guard down, but I’m freaking out anymore. It’s also helping to take my mind off what happened today. If I stop and spend too much time dwelling on it, I might burst into tears. I don’t want to do that in front of Sawyer. I’m sure he already thinks I’m unstable. I’ll leave my tears until I’m alone in my room tonight.
Ten minutes later, Sawyer emerges with a couple of bags and his pillow under his arm. “Ready to go?” I nod as he locks the balcony doors before heading for the door.
