Right. At least he’s honest. I shove my hair out of my eyes and get up to go.
“Listen, Hansen.” He gets up, too, resting his knuckles on his desk. “It’s probably nothing to worry about. Kids playing a prank, by my guess. There are other kids on your street, aren’t there?”
I give him a long, flat stare.
“Or maybe you talked to someone about your time in Milwaukee? Maybe some guy at the place where you work had a look at your resume and decided to scare you off.”
I frown and scratch at my beard. “Ross,” I whisper.
He’s such an asshole I wouldn’t put it past him. Could it be him, attempting to make me uneasy, getting back at me for spoiling his fun with Octavia the other day? I’d thought it weird he didn’t come after me right away.
“Who’s Ross?”
My shoulders are all tensed up, my jaw so tight it hurts. “Owner’s son at the garage where I work.”
“Where?”
“Jasper’s Garage, in Destiny.”
“Had a run in with him?”
I shrug. “He was being an ass.”
His look tells me he doesn’t necessarily believe me. I know I look rough with my unkempt beard and hair, and my wrinkled clothes. People naturally assume I go looking for fistfights.
But the only fight I have is with myself.
“Okay, fine. We’ll look into it.” John shuffles the papers on his desk. “Meanwhile, any new incident, message, or phone call, or anyone hanging around your house, give me a call. Here’s my cell phone.”
He passes me his card, and I take it without glancing down at it.
“And what about Ross?”
“I said we’ll look into it. You stay out of it, Hansen. Unless there’s evidence pointing at this guy, let’s not go creating trouble for no reason.”
“You’re shitting me.”
But he’s not.
What a fucking waste of time this has been. Then again, if the culprit is Ross, well… At least I know who to watch out for. Octavia didn’t mention him harassing her since she came to work for me, but it’s not like we talk.
Not like it’s any of my business. And my blood shouldn’t boil at the thought of him near her, touching her, hurting her.
Fuck this.
Time I took matters in my own hands. No one fucks with what’s mine. If that son of a bitch, Ross, as much as shows his fucking face in my neighborhood, I’m gonna rip him a new one, and my job be damned.
Octavia unlocks and opens the door as soon as I ring my doorbell. I’ve never been happier for the sound of a heavy bolt dragging on metal as it’s being pulled back.
Or hell, for the lack of a threatening note on my door. My heart is still banging around in my chest, the shot of adrenaline I got when I found the piece of paper earlier still pumping through my veins.
And then she’s there, and seeing her relaxes something inside me, turning my knees weak. Pleasure, and relief, and pure fucking lust that has my dick hardening, and Christ, I’m so screwed up right now.
Can’t trust myself for shit with her, not on the best of days and certainly not after the day I’ve had. Not when she’s standing there, all pretty and damn hot in her soft blouse and jeans, a hint of cleavage torturing me, the dip of her waist turning my breathing shallow and my balls heavy.
“Matt?” She’s giving me a quizzical look, and I curse inside.
Brushing past her, I step inside. “We need to talk.”