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Rolling off me, Jimmy tugs me against his side, curling himself around me, his breath brushing my cheek as he speaks.
“The death threats?”
It’s like a flood of cold water hits me, obliterating my post-orgasm fuzziness. I blink at the ceiling, concentrating on how warm and safe I feel in Jimmy’s arms.
“They sent them to the defender’s office. Someone checks all the mail that comes through, so I never actually saw them. Apparently, they were pretty bad. Dad hired the Rothwell Agency, and they sent Grady as a 24/7 bodyguard. The police think it might be an old client of mine who wasn’t happy with the outcome of their case.”
“But you don’t think so?” Jimmy asks. I turn my face toward him in surprise. His eyebrows shoot up. “What? You think I don’t know you well enough to know that?”
A blush of pleasure settles across me. Everyone else, everyone who has known me for longer, none of them picked up on how I felt like Jimmy.
“I can’t see any of them doing something like this.”
“Do you think it’s because you’re a Rampwood?”
I blow out a breath, shaking my head. “No. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have sent the threats through the defender’s office. I don’t know who it could be, but my gut tells me it’s not one of my clients.”
Jimmy nods, kissing my cheek as I settle against his chest.
“We’ll figure it out, babe. We’ll make sure you’re safe.”
“I hope so. It’s exhausting always looking over your shoulder. It’s so isolating.”
“You don’t have to worry about facing it alone. I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”
Pleasure shoots through me, and I let out a tiny giggle. “You said that already.”
“I meant it,” he replies, tightening his arms around me. I sigh happily. Yeah, I think he does.
Chapter 18
JIMMY
The creak of the door as it opens has me wide awake in an instant, blinking and shoving up to my elbow, Thelma grumbling in her sleep beside me. Automatically, I tug the duvet up to cover Thelma’s gloriously naked body.
It’s a clear night, so there is enough moonlight shining in behind him for me to make out Quinn’s figure in the doorway.
“What the fuck are you doi....” I trail off as Quinn shifts, the moonlight glinting off the gun in his hand. Quinn’s voice is low, harsh, and urgent.
“Thelma, get to the panic room. Now.”
She squeaks in panic, wide awake now as Quinn disappears. Sliding out of bed, we quickly tug on clothes, Thelma’s hand closing on mine as she drags me from the room, and down the stairs to the second floor. We don’t go further downstairs, moving away from the landing at the top of the spiral staircase to a bookcase covered with family pictures and mementos.
Pausing in front of it, Thelma grabs the mast of an incredible hand-crafted miniature frigate, bending it. The bookcase lets out a tiny groan, swinging forward as it becomes a door. That’s seriously fire.
I follow Thelma inside as she closes the door softly, the quiet sound of a hydraulic lock clicking into place. She hits a switch on the wall, and muted overhead lighting fills the room. I look around in surprise.
It’s a small space, with a thick carpet on the floor to silence any footsteps. Thelma sinks into the comfortable-looking fabric two-seater couch, drawing her knees up to her chin. Through a partially open door, I can see a bathroom.
There is a mini-fridge in the corner, and I open it, grab two bottles of water, and hand one to Thelma. Some snacks are in there, but I’m not feeling particularly hungry. The only other things here are a small bookshelf with a handful of books and a panel on the wall that looks like an apartment intercom.
I drop down onto the couch beside Thelma, drawing her against my chest, rubbing a hand in large, slow circles on her back, trying to calm her breathing.
“What if they overpower Grady?” Thelma asks at last, in a small voice.
“He seems very capable to me. I’m sure he called the police or his agency.”
She nods, blowing out a long breath. “I didn’t bring my phone.”
