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She doesn’t seem to come to her senses until we’re already in my car, which I brought over here and parked in the garage after picking up my things. “Where are we going?” she whispers.
“I’m going to take you to my place for a little while. Until things are cleaned up. Don’t worry,” I remind her. “You’re safe.”
“How did he get in? I don’t even know who he was. I have never seen him before that I know of.”
How did he get in? That’s a good question. One that makes me tighten my hands around the steering wheel until my knuckles ache. I checked everything, didn’t I? How the hell did I miss something?
I still have no answer to my question by the time we reach my place, which is a lot smaller than hers but clean and furnished well, thanks to the generous compensation I receive for my work. At least I’m not embarrassed to bring her here.
“You’re going to be fine now,” I tell her once we’re inside. She takes a seat on the sofa, wrapping her arms around herself. She hates me. She has to. There’s no other way this could go. It’s not that I didn’t want to tell her who I am and what I do. It’s only that I knew this would be her reaction. Keeping her safe meant more than anything, so I made sure to avoid telling her the truth.
Well, she doesn’t need me anymore, anyway. I’ve taken care of the problem. And I realize now the idea is almost enough to break my heart. The thought of her being unable to forgive herself for opening herself up to a killer like me.
We both jump when my phone rings. It’s one of the guys from the crew, and I hold up a finger to signal for silence before answering. “Speak.”
“He got in through the office window—the lock’s broken.” Dammit, he must have got in not a minute after I last checked it. Did he somehow know I was there? If he had, why would he bother breaking in? “ID says his name is Hugo Clark.”
I look at Dakota. “Do you know a Hugo Clark?”
I expect confusion or fogginess. Instead, she gasps, her eyes blazing. “Yes! He’s left, like, hundreds of comments on the blog! I just figured he was a lonely guy with too much time on his hands. He always signed his comments, too.”
Wonderful. “Then we’ll be purging him from your blog,” I say before confirming her place will be clean within the hour, then ending the call.
“I never thought he was a legitimate threat. I feel so stupid.”
“You have no reason to feel stupid,” I assure her, taking a seat on the other side of the sofa so she doesn’t feel crowded. “You can’t go around assuming everybody is a threat. Now you’re safe. We’ll have your window fixed and better locks put on, and you’ll be fine from here on out.”
“What about…?” She glances my way before averting her eyes. “You know. What about us?”
“After what you saw tonight, you want there to be an us?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I can be with you knowing what you do.”
“I understand.” I clear my throat. Let me drive you to the hotel, somewhere safe until we get your apartment cleaned up.”
She stands up, wiping her palms over the front of her shirt. “I’m actually gonna call a cab.”
“Are you sure?” I knew this would come. I knew she would run the other way once she found out who I really am. It doesn’t make this moment hurt any less.
“Yes, I’m sorry.” She shakes her head as she walks toward the door. Everything inside me tells me to stop her. “I just need some space and to clear my head. Today… and the past few days were a lot. I’m sorry, Bane. I have to go.”
My feet are cemented to the ground, watching her leave my place. The door falls shut behind her, shutting me in with a loneliness I have never felt before.
8
DAKOTA
Walking into my parents house,I’m not surprised to find the luxurious home, borderline mansion, quiet. “Mom, Dad?” My voice echoes through the long foyer and up the rounded staircase.
Nothing but eerie silence meets me.
Pulling out my phone, I dial both of my parents’ numbers, one after the other. Neither one of them answers so you’re up for a text message.
Me: Hi, I’m at your house. They finally caught the man who broke into my apartment.
It doesn’t take long for my dad to answer.
Dad: That’s great. We’re not home.
