“Right.” At least he was honest. Message, loud and clear. If they slept together, she would never seen him again. “You don’t date.”
“No, I don’t. Not very dateable, I’m afraid.”
“Sure, with the good looks, your own company, and the penchant to save waitresses in dark alleys, women must run away in horror,” she teased. “Come on, you know you could have your own season of The Bachelor and fill Texas Stadium with the contestant casting call.”
His curving lips had an edge of resignation to them this time. “Women like me on paper. But the reality isn’t as bearable. I work from seven in the morning to past ten most nights. I’m a control freak in all aspects of my life. And my social graces leave a lot to be desired.”
“Meaning, you can be an asshole.”
He shrugged, unapologetic. “My tolerance for others is limited.”
She had already gathered that about him. The glare he’d sent that customer who’d interrupted them today could’ve bent the silverware. “Yet you visit me every morning.”
“You’re exceptionally tolerable,” he said, stepping inside finally and picking up the note that must have fallen to the floor when she’d set her purse down.
His comment and having him only a pace away from her—in her apartment, alone—had her thoughts disintegrating for a moment. To stop herself from moving even closer and embarrassing herself, she went for the safety of humor. She tilted her head and batted her eyelashes in her best southern belle impression. “Oh, Mr. Austin, you say the sweetest things. You should write poetry.”
He chuckled and handed her the paper, his hand lingering against her fingers for a few extra seconds. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ms. LeBreck. Try to stay out of trouble until then.”
“Will do my best.” The loss of the skin-to-skin contact left her feeling even more alone than she had a minute before. She looked down, unfolding the paper in her hand to have something to do besides grabbing the lapels of his jacket and taking the kiss for herself. “Thanks again for everything today. I’m really sorry you had to get inv—”
Her words stuck in her throat like a wad of taffy as she stared down at the drawing on the page—a very familiar, distinctive D.
“Kelsey?” Wyatt’s voice filled with concern. When she didn’t respond, he came toward her. “What’s wrong? You’ve gone white.”
She closed her eyes, a wave of nausea and raging anger rolling through her. A firm hand grabbed her elbow, steadying her. She took in a deep breath through her nose, trying to keep the temptation to lose her shit at bay. She’d been here before. She could handle it.
Of course, before she could’ve taken a shot of whiskey and smoked a cigarette. But neither of those options were available anymore. This time she was on her own in every way.
“He came here first,” she said, her voice sounding flat.
Wyatt took the paper from her fingertips. “Who? Miller?”
She nodded, trying to regain her internal composure so that Wyatt didn’t notice how she was running around and screaming on the inside. “I need to get out of here.”
“Wait, what?” Wyatt asked as she pulled away from him.
“Miller’s part of a much bigger operation—the D-Town Players.” She headed toward the closet on the far side of the living room and yanked it open, a plan trying to form in her swirling brain. How long had they been standing here talking? What if someone was already heading this way? Where the fuck was her suitcase? “That note is letting me know they know where I live.”
“Fuck, Kelsey,” Wyatt said, lines deepening around his mouth. “How involved is this? Is it some sort of street gang?”
She shook her head, squatting down to move a few boxes at the bottom of the closet. “They’re much more organized than that. I don’t exactly know how big it is. I was never privy to that.” She dragged her overnight bag out of the back corner and turned around. “I just . . . dated some prick who was a drug runner for them back when I was too stupid to know better.”
She watched the distaste cross Wyatt’s face, and her heart died a little. One of the things she loved most about her brief times with Wyatt was how he looked at her like she really was the sweet, innocent thing he believed her to be. Like she was something precious and fragile. Unlike everyone else she knew, he hadn’t looked at her through the filter of her past and all the mistakes she’d made when she was using. Or through the even darker glass of being a victim. Only a handful of people knew what she’d endured at the hands of her mother’s murderer last year. But once someone knew, that was all the person saw—assault victim. Now streaks of that ugliness were tainting the bright little bubble of space between her and Wyatt.
“Where are you going to go?” he asked, shutting the front door behind him and bolting it. “My company has corporate apartments we rent. You can stay in one of those if you need a place.”
She shook her head. The last thing she wanted was some handout. “Thanks, I appreciate it, but I can stay at my sister and her fiancé’s place.”
That was a lie. She wasn’t going to put Brynn and Reid at risk on her behalf. Not again. Reid had taken a bullet the last time he’d rescued Kelsey, and her sister had almost ended up dead. But Kelsey couldn’t tell Wyatt where she was really heading. He’d already found out enough of her secrets today. The last thing he needed to know was what she did as her night job.
Wyatt frowned, obviously not thrilled with that plan, but he nodded. “Pack your bag, and I’ll drive you.”
“I have a car downstairs. I just take the bus some days to work to save money on gas.”
“Then I’ll follow you there to make sure you’re safe.”Author: Roni Loren
She opened her mouth to argue, but what was the point? In truth, having someone watch her back as she left the apartment wasn’t a bad thing. The D-Towners were probably just trying to scare her, but she also knew they were capable of a lot worse than that, so she wasn’t going to take any chances. “Thanks. Guess you probably shouldn’t have stuck around for that muffin today. You’d be tucked safely in your office by now none the wiser, making people their millions.”