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For a while, they just lay there. Though sleep threatened, her thinking evened out.
“Would Ford be mad if I moved in?” Could be that was just an in the midst of sex thing they’d said without meaning it. Did she want to move in? “Is it too soon?”
“No, and all we can do is ask him.”
“What’s your opinion?”
“That you should live here.”
“Of his opinion?”
“My opinion of his opinion?”
“Stop,” she said with a whisper of a laugh. “Is it too much to ask? With everything else that’s going on. We shouldn’t talk about it until after this is all done and…” Would that ever happen? “Will I be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life?”
Kissing her head, his fingers intertwined in her locks. “No.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’ll protect you.”
“How can you do that? You’ll be at risk too. If you stay with me—”
“I will stay with you and promise you’ll be safe. I’ll take the heat myself before I’ll let you—”
“This is not you. I did this.”
“You haven’t done anything. Yet.”
No. The words weren’t on paper. Weren’t on any screen. They were in her head and she had a choice to make. Ludlow might tell them the whole complete truth. Did that mean she could write it?
A tap on the door came just seconds before it opened a few inches.
Ford’s disembodied voice joined them. “Got a visitor.”
“A visitor?” Her brother retreated without entering. Thank God, given they hadn’t worried about covering up. “Who?” Both of them jumped up to dress. “Who would be—”
“We’re not waiting out here all day!”
Strat. Shit. Her father. Great. Just what she needed.
FORTY-THREE
IN THE BEDROOM DOORWAY, her apology died on her lips. Ford, her father… and some other guy.
“Ludlow,” Jagg said from behind her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “You work fast, Strat, man.”
“Could say the same to you.” The disapproval in that frown was unmistakable. “This your priority?” Ludlow turned like he was ready to rush right back out. Her dad got in his way with one slick move and grabbed the guy’s jacket. “My little girl isn’t done with you yet.”
Ludlow looked left, right… Not a lot of options for the guy. Twitchy, nervous, tense, yeah, she could relate.
“No one will hurt you,” she said to his back. When she stepped forward, Jagg came with her, his hand staying in place. “We just have some questions.”
Or she had some questions.
“I can’t—Strat, man, I—”
“You do what you’re fucking told,” her dad said, yanking the guy hard, dragging him across to the armchair under the TV and thrusting him down. “Answer the fucking questions.” Wow, she’d never seen her dad be so… hard. “Immie.”
