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I reach around her and test the handle, ensuring it’s still locked and the fucker hasn’t already found his way in.
Her intake of breath tickles my neck, and I move back to give her space before I freak the woman out, crowding in on her like that.Stupid, Digger.The woman’s had a hell of a night already because of a fucking man, and here I am, my body pressed against hers on a goddamn platform six feet above the ground.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” The key slots in, and Rae forces the creaky door across the uneven carpet, revealing her humble abode.
The stark lack of anything slaps me square in the face. “Where’s your shit?” I move past her, stalling in the center of a fucking room barely big enough to swing a cat.
There’s a bed to the right, a makeshift kitchen on a rickety table ahead, and a low set of drawers with two handles missing on my left. A free-standing wardrobe separates her sleeping from the eating area, doing nothing much but making the space seem even fucking smaller.
“What do you mean?” She hugs herself near the door, key dangling from a finger.
I head to the far right corner and duck my head around the bathroom door, satisfied when I find a simple shower over bath and aged toilet—no Connor. “I mean, is this all you have?” I nod toward the main area. “There’s fuck all in here.”
“It’s all I need.” Her keys clatter to the top of the simple table that houses a basic gas cooker. The kind you use when camping.
I frown at the neat row of shoes—four pairs—by the window. “There’s a lot of glass here.” I stand in the middle of the five panes spread across the front wall of the apartment and check the extent of how much street I can see from the vantage point. “It’d be best if you stayed away from it. At least while the blinds are open.” I swivel my head. “Where the fuck are your blinds?”
“Brawny said he’d get some fitted when I moved in, but I think he’s forgotten.”
I roll my jaw. Any sick fuck could stand out there and watch her when it’s like this. She’s got four feet of privacy from midway through her bed back to the far wall; that’s it. “A young woman needs better fuckin’ security than this.” I shake my head. “It’s fuckin’ bullshit that he expects you to put up with it.”
“Honestly,” she hedges, fidgeting with a noodle cup lined up beside the cooker. “He’d probably do it if I ask. I just haven’t got around to it.”
“You want me to remind him?” I turn and study her, waiting for a reply.
She stares at the cup beneath her index finger, teeth worrying her bottom lip. “Nope. It’s fine.” The steely determination in her eye when she lifts her chin is a curious thing. “Do you think Maddie made a mistake asking you for help?”
I lift an eyebrow. Is this woman for real? She has Connor fucking Creed hunting her down, and she thinks she’s being a bother by asking for someone to look out for her. “Nope.”
“I got the feeling Tyke didn’t really want to deal with it, is all.”
“He doesn’t like dealing with much,” I explain. “But here’s a little secret.” I duck to level our faces. “It’s his job.”
She smiles. The barest hitch of her plump lips, but the win is there all the same. I made the girl happier.
She releases the noodle cup from her intermittent caress and dives for a couple of old, mismatched coffee mugs. “You want a coffee? It takes me a while to boil water on the cooker, but I don’t mind.”
I lift a hand. “Save yourself the trouble.”
She sets the mugs back beside the noodles and an array of long-life goods and then jams both hands in her back pockets. “Well, thanks for what you did today.” Rae shrugs. “Even if that’s as much as the club does for me, I’m thankful for the help.”
“What will you do?” I fold my arms and widen my stance. “If the vote is a no?”
Her breath leaves on a heavy exhale. “I don’t know. I mean, he’s not likely to forget about it. Terry or Connor. I can’t see them letting me go about my life like it didn’t matter.”
“Hell of a thing to witness.” I take a step back and settle my ass against the windowsill. “You doin’ okay?”
“I guess.” She shrugs, a pathetic laugh filling the awkward silence. “It’d be weird if it didn’t give me anxiety, right?”
“Hundred percent.”
She turns her head to regard the bed, then looks back toward me. “It’s getting late, so…”
“Yeah.” I force myself into motion and run a hand over my head. “I’ll let you do whatever you need.”
“Thanks.” She hugs herself again, hovering near the end of her bed, which appears to double as a sofa and whatever else she needs.
