I want to say comforting words to her, but all I can do is pull her gently to my chest and wrap my arms around her. “You’re safe now,” I tell her, not letting the smell of vanilla and roses cloud my thinking. She’s worked an entire shift and still smells delicious.
Hearing Leah behind me, I let up a bit, but I am ready to let my monster out. I need more information. Leah says, “You did the right thing, Meghan.”
Letting Meghan go, I drag a hand through my hair, telling myself I shouldn’t overreact. Who knows what the fuck that bastard was doing in her apartment, but it probably isn’t worthy of me introducing him to the business end of my Glock.
And that’s when I see the bruises.
“Meghan,” I say loud enough to make her jump, which I instantly regret, but I don’t stop to apologize. “Your arms!” I look at both of them, and sure enough, both of her biceps have bruises. I can easily see that they are in the shape of fat, meaty fingers.
“He grabbed me,” she says. “Shook me a few times before I could get away.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mumble. That’s it—this guy is about to wish he’d never even rented Meghan a room, let alone broken into it.
Turning to Leah, I say, “Why don’t you and Allie take Meg to the lounge, get her a drink, maybe a bite to eat, and I’m gonna go…talk to…the guys.” I try to make my face seem relaxed so Meghan won’t be worried about what I’m going to do, but Leah is on it.
“Yep, I think that’s a great idea. We should totally find something to eat—preferably something smothered in melted cheese!” Leah and Allie walk on either side of her as they head into the adjoining lounge.
As the girls get comfy in the plush orange and gray furniture in the employee’s space, I head to my office to get her address from Meg’s application. I pull it from a filing cabinet and am not at all surprised to see what it says.
“Green Terrace Apartments,” I read, noting the apartment number as well. That’s a shitty place over by Silver Towers that I’ve considered buying in the past. It could be a trendy new complex with a few million dollars’ worth of upgrades, but since I owned Silver Towers, I didn’t see the point in snatching it up.
Until now.
Pulling my cell from my pocket, I dial the number of my accountant. I know it’s the middle of the night, but Peter will always answer for me.
He picks up on the third ring. “Mr. Stone?” I can hear the sleep in his voice.
“Hey, sorry to wake you,” I say. “I just wanted to let you know I’m about to acquire an apartment complex.”
My statement is met with a long pause, and I think perhaps he’s fallen back to sleep before he asks, “Do I even want to know how much?”
I can’t help but chuckle, but when I picture Meg’s beautiful face streaked with tears, all I can say is, “As much as it takes.”
“All right,” Peter says on a sigh. “As long as you use the business account, there shouldn’t be any problem, but I’ll move some money around if required.”
“That’s what I needed to hear.” I hang up without saying goodbye and hope he can remember this conversation in the morning. I’m sure he will.
My next call is to Brandon. “Grab Caleb and bring the truck around back. We’ve got some work to do.”
“Yes, boss.” He doesn’t question me or complain that we’re going out in the middle of the night. He’s a professional. Just like me.
Before I leave, I go over to my desk and grab an extra gun out of my drawer and put it inside my jacket pocket. I already have one in my waistband, as I always do, but I want to make sure I’m prepared for this dirtbag.
Mr. Koobak.
Within a half hour, I am banging on the door of the apartment occupied by one Marvin Koobak, landlord, and as it turns out, the owner of Green Terrace Apartments.
How lucky for me.
Fortunately, I happen to have a copy of all of the paperwork one requires in order to purchase said apartment complex in the middle of the night. It might seem astonishing to some people, but there’s a reason I have the reputation I do for getting things done.
I hear a low rumble and a few curse words as Koobak drags himself to the door. When he unlocks the many locks and yanks it open, he shouts, “What the fuck do you want? Do you even live here? Don’t you know I don’t see renters in the middle of the ni—”
Before he can get the last word out of his jowls, I grab him by the neck and force him backward into the entryway and up against the wall. Brandon and Caleb step in quickly, getting the door closed.
I put enough pressure on his throat that he’s not going to be able to yell, and in this apartment complex, something tells me a lot of shouts for help go unanswered.
He’s wearing a pair of boxers and a wife-beater that looks like he’s had it on for five straight days. The stench of body odor so pungent I swear I’ve stepped into the bottom of a gym bag full of jockstraps hits me, and it’s all I can do to keep from gagging.