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And because I’d been expecting that, I wasn’t prepared for what I found there.
Elisa:
How could you pick shifters over vampires? I’ve admired you and wanted so much to be your friend, but you’re being disloyal! I’m beginning to wonder if you appreciate what I’ve done for you. I’m protecting you, Elisa. Ensuring your future.
I remain, with hope that you’ll understand,
—A friend?
What he’d done for me, the note said. But he’d done nothing on my behalf, only his delusion of it. And that delusion had nearly gotten Connor killed.
My heart roared, a timpani drum of anger. “It was him.”
“What?” Connor asked, and I showed him the message.
“I’m— Connor, I’m sorry.” Horror and fury and fear battled in my chest, squeezing hard against my heart. “It was the stalker. He hit you. He tried to kill you. This is all my—”
“No,” he interrupted, sliding a hand behind my neck and lowering his head to look directly into my eyes. “No. You are responsible for your actions, not his. You gave me the warning, and you were there to pick me up. Not that I needed picking up.”
“Because you’re a big, strong shifter.”
“Damn right. He wasn’t the first one to take a shot at me, andprobably won’t be the last. And how many of my Pack members tried to take you out in Minnesota?”
I paused. “That is a point.”
He nodded. “So if you so much as suggest this was your fault, you’ll just piss me off.”
I sucked in a hard and shuddering breath, nodded.
“I’m okay,” he said. “It’s gonna take more than a shitty sedan to break me.”
I put my screen in my pocket, scrubbed my hands over my face until I’d regained some composure.
I understood logically that I hadn’t caused this; I hadn’t driven the car, or asked anyone to hurt Connor. But that didn’t mitigate the fear, the fury, that someone had tried to hurt him—or that they believed hurting him was something I wanted. It couldn’t have been further from the truth.
Connor had become part of my life. An essential part. Despite our beginnings, despite at least fifteen years of mutual irritation, and paths that diverged almost completely. I’d come home to Chicago unwillingly. But I’d found a kind of home here, and he was a major part of it. And in seconds, someone had nearly ripped him away.
Tears breached my lashes. “Damn it,” I said, swiping at them. “I hate crying. And I’ve done entirely too much of it this week.”
“You are having a bit of a week,” he said and wrapped an arm around me. “Sometimes tears are inevitable. But I’m okay.”
I nodded. “It’s just...” I swallowed hard, opened my eyes, and looked up at him. And it took all the bravery and composure I had left to let myself be vulnerable, and tell him how I felt. “I’ve never had this much to lose.”
The look in his eyes was... majestic. Pride and triumph and joy combined, and I felt myself sink a little deeper in his thrall.He smiled slowly, with more of that Connor-trademarked satisfaction. “How much did that little admission cost you?”
I curled my lip at him. “Watch it, wolf.”
Still grinning, he brought our joined hands to his mouth, pressed his lips, soft and promising, to my fingers. “I don’t want to lose you, either, especially to a coward like the one who sent you that note. But life isn’t fair. So we enjoy what we can, and we fight when we must.”
“I’ll pay for the damage to Thelma.”
“Offer accepted.” The corners of his mouth lifted. “She deserves a little pampering. And possibly a few upgrades.”
The fear had passed; the traces were still there like salt on tear-stained cheeks, but I could think again. And those thoughts were... disturbing.
“The stalker is not sane,” I said quietly. “Someone else has to have noticed they’re pretty seriously disturbed. So how are they out and driving and able to send notes via mail and electronically?”
“Maybe the stalker’s a loner,” Connor said. “That wouldn’t be hard to believe.”
