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“Good thought.” She shrugged out of it, grimacing when it dripped all over his tile floor. “Sorry.”
He shook his head as he took the pack from her and set it aside. “This place is a rental, and the floor will dry. You going to tell me what’s going on?”
Madison hesitated. “I hate to drag you into my problem—”
Since she’d come here, her apology was moot—not that he wanted it. “You’re in danger. What happened?”
“L-last night, Todd chased me through an apartment building with a knife.”
Matt clenched his fingers into fists and tried to hold in his rage. He was known for being calm, easy-tempered, even affable. Right now, if Todd Pershing were here, he’d kill the motherfucker—no questions asked. “Why?”
She hesitated. “If you can’t help me, I shouldn’t tell you. I don’t want to put you at risk any more than I have. Point me in another direction and—”
“I’m going to help you.” Did she fucking think he was too bitter to save her life? Yeah, probably. He’d been hurt as fuck when she’d left him behind and traded up three years ago. Hell, deep down he still hurt. A part of him would love to sayI told you soabout Todd Pershing. On the other hand, Matt wasn’t good for her, either.
“Are you sure? It’s going to get dangerous.”
He snorted. “You know what I do for a living.”
“This won’t be a normal bodyguarding situation. The Pershings have resources and friends in very high places. They’re capable of almost anything.”
And she was terrified. That enraged him even more. “They have to get to me first.”
Madison curled her arms around herself, rubbing them as if she was freezing in ninety-degree weather. Goose bumps raised all across her skin. She was no longer wearing her wedding rock. He filed that factoid away and focused on what was important, like the fact her backpack hadn’t been the only thing dripping; she was, too.
“Let’s get you a warm shower and some dry clothes. When was the last time you ate?”
“I had a protein bar this afternoon. I’m okay.”
Bullshit. “Come with me.”
He ushered her down the hall to the guest bathroom and flipped on a light. “Shampoo and soap are in the stall. Clean towels are under the sink. Need anything else?”
She asked for the plastic bag containing her toiletries, and he brought it to her, wondering why she’d stashed a USB drive in with her toothpaste and mascara. “Thanks. I’ll be out in ten.”
“I’ll set something clean to wear on the counter.” He’d bet everything else in her backpack was somewhere between damp and drenched. “Once you’re dressed, come to the kitchen. I’ll feed you. We’ll talk.”
“Thanks,” she murmured before closing the door between them.
He listened on the other side, the rustling of fabric telling him when she slipped out of her wet-as-hell jeans and that black T-shirt that clung like a second skin. Next, she’d take off her bra and her panties…and be completely naked. Fuck. He didn’t need to be hard now; he needed to be focused.
Matt sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to walk away as she started the shower. He had to keep her safe, and he needed to think with the head on his shoulders, not the one aching for her between his legs.
After setting a soft, button-down flannel and a pair of sweat shorts with a drawstring on the counter of the steamy bathroom, he stopped imagining her bare and dripping, tossed on a T-shirt, slapped on his holster, and veered to the kitchen. There, he grabbed eggs and bacon from his fridge, turned on the stove, then got everything sizzling before he scrolled through the contacts on his phone.
He could keep her here tonight. After that…the situation would be safer for them both if he offloaded her to someone who wasn’t on the Pershings’ radar, a man who didn’t want to fuck her endlessly. But who, One-Mile Walker? No. They were tight. Best friends, really. But Pierce and Brea nearly had more babies than they had arms. And this situation didn’t call for a sniper. Trees Scott was a possibility. He and Madison had been friends once upon a time, and the guy cared about her. But his wife, Laila, had given birth to their third child not long ago. He couldn’t impose. Trees’s younger brother, Nash? Since he’d joined EM Security a few years back, the guy had been solid and an all-around good team member. Or maybe the newest addition, Ethan Garrison? He might be the Vegas-bred son of a reported mafia assassin and cocky-as-hell sometimes, but he was also damn good at his job.
Muttering a curse, Matt flipped the bacon and pressed the button to dial Nash.
“What’s up, buddy? I was just going to call you.”
Matt scowled. “Yeah?”
“Um…when Casey didn’t hear from you, she reached out to ask if I wanted to, you know, come over.”
And fuck her brains out. Good to know his latest lay thought men were interchangeable. “She’s all yours.”
“You done with that? I don’t want to poach.”
