mess as quickly as possible. Lucian would know exactly how to proceed. But she didn’t want to keep
running to him whenever she needed help.
Eying the cop, she felt the same anxious tremors she’d always suffered when faced with an
authority figure. You’re not a child anymore! They can’t take you away from your mom. She thought about Pearl, alone and afraid in rehab. She was doing her part, and this was Scout’s.
Swallowing back her request, she glanced at Ellen. “Never mind.”
“Are you sure, dear?”
No, but she nodded anyway. When the phone returned to the receiver, Scout faced the officer.
“What do you need to know?”
“Why don’t you start with what you were doing in the alley?”
“I live upstairs.”
“There’s a small efficiency above our office,” Ellen confirmed. “The landlord notified us yesterday
that Evelyn was the new tenant.”
The officer jotted down some notes in a little tablet and faced Scout again. Could you explain what
happened from the time you arrived?”
She was fighting with everything she had not to fall apart. Her thoughts were jumbled and her hands
wouldn’t quit shaking. Swallowing, she kept her focus on the man’s badge and explained what had
taken place. She told him they’d been making a drug deal, how they tried to corner her, how they
grabbed her, and how she just reacted.
“You did a fine job of defending yourself.”
She blinked at the admiration, but his praise meant nothing. What was she supposed to do? Let them
attack her without fighting back?
Once he took down her information, he thanked her and left. She sat for a few moments just staring
at the empty space where the squad car had been.
“Would you like me to walk you to your door, Evelyn?”
Reminded of her surroundings, she blinked up at the man in the suit. What was his name? “No,
thank you. I should go.”
As she stood, her legs wobbled. She scooped up her belongings and thanked the insurance couple
again. Her eyes combed every shadow as she made her way down the alley and quickly unlocked her
door. Once she made it inside, she locked everything up tight.
Too stunned to cry, she climbed the stairs, stripped off her clothes and drew a bath. She did it, and
she did it on her own.
***
Scout typically woke up a little after dawn, but the following morning she was up before the sun had
a chance to rise. She jerked upright in bed and made a startled sound as something that sounded like a
wrecking ball rattled her walls.
Scrambling out of bed, her foot caught on the cord of her lamp and knocked it onto the ground.
“Shit!”
She righted the lamp and turned it on. Her feet turned in a circle as she tried to find her bearings. It was six in the morning. Shuffling to the kitchen, she grabbed a butter knife and her one-cup coffeepot.
Not the best weapons, but they would do.
Marching down the dim steps of her apartment, she quietly waited, only to flinch when the banging
started again. “Who is it?” she hissed.
“Evelyn?”
She frowned and lowered her weapons. “Lucian?”
“Open the door.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Open. The damn. Door.”
Sighing, she shifted the knife and coffeepot in her hands and unlocked the door. Pulling it open, she
snapped, “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
He wasn’t dressed like he usually was outside of the penthouse. He wore dark jeans, a rumpled
sweater, and his jaw was unshaven. Shoving his way through the door, she gasped as his arm shot out
in front of her. “What the hell is this?”
She glanced at the papers twisted in his fist. “It’s a newspaper.”
His jaw ticked. “Explain to me, why—at five in the morning—I am reading your address and
description in the criminal reports.”
Her mouth opened. “What? I told them I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“You were attacked?” She jumped at the sharpness in his voice. He didn’t give her time to reply.
“Why the hell didn’t you call me?”
Her lips firmed. “It had nothing to do with you.”
“Your safety has everything to do with me!”
“Pfft! Please, Lucian—”
Her words cut off as he crowded her in the tiny entryway. “Do not act like your safety has not been my priority since we met. Jesus, Evelyn! What the fuck happened? Are you hurt?”
She blinked at him. He was really upset. “I . . . I handled it.” Her voice was smaller than she would
have liked.
Lucian forked his fingers through his hair and dropped to the second step of her narrow staircase.
His seemed totally distraught. “I want you to depend on me in times of trouble. Why won’t you?”
Because she couldn’t trust him to always be there. “I’m fine.” How had he found her? “Did they put
my name in the paper?” That seemed a major violation of her privacy. She wished she could read the
article.
“No. They put your description and the location of the attack and stated it happened only a few feet
from your residence. Whoever runs the office downstairs must have made a statement to the media,