I pressed a kiss to her head. “I’m sorry, Tally.”
“Eventually, no one seemed to be looking for me. I was tired of it all. I finally decided I’d hidden long enough, so I enrolled in school. Found another little place to live closer to school. Worked tons of odd jobs to pay for everything. And stayed in the shadows. Always still afraid, but tired of not living.”
“If they killed him, he was probably right. They didn’t find out who or where you were, and he paid the ultimate price. But you’re good to be cautious.” I paused. “Do you remember the name of the group?”
“Belham Terrors.” She shivered again. “I’ll never forget it. I only found out because I saw him in a jacket once that had the patch on it. Two dogs ripping each other’s throats out. The men in the bar had worn the same jacket.” She shut her eyes. “I never mentioned it to him. I never understood why he was part of them. He wasn’t like that. He became a different person. He did drugs, he drank, he…he made terrible decisions…” She trailed off. “I lost him a long time ago, I suppose.”
I didn’t know what to say to her. Knowing how scared she must have been. How alone. Yet, still pushing forward, keeping her head down, and going on with life. She was incredibly brave and strong.
“Do you see your friend anymore?”
She didn’t meet my eyes. “People drift, and sometimes it’s for the best.”
I hated knowing how alone she was.
“That’s why you like the building,” I said. “Why you wanted to work for me.”
“Yes, I feel safe there.”
“You are. You’re safe there.” I wrapped her in my embrace, holding her tight. “Here—with me. Nothing will happen to you when you’re with me.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I always feel safe with you.”
The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Then stay.”
She looked up. “What?”
“Stay here with me.”
“What—live here?”
“Yes.”
She looked confused. “In the guest room?”
I chuckled. “You really think I want you in the guest room? I want you here in my bed.”
“I can’t, Julian. It’s too—”
“Fast? I know. Stupid? Undoubtedly. Rash and unlike me? Totally. But it also feels right. I miss you when you’re not in the office. When you are, I find excuses to get close, and I hate it when you leave. Knowing what I know now, I can’t let you go back to being on your own.”
Worry made her frown. “Do you think I’m still in danger?”
“Since it’s been so long, no. But you’ve been alone too long. I’ve been alone too long. I want you here, and why should we wait?”
“Because normal people would.”
“So, we’re not normal.”
Still, she hesitated. “I need to think about it.”
I loved and hated the fact that she said that. She was proud and independent, which I loved, but I hated that she might say no, when the thought of her on her own made me anxious.
“Not for too long.”
I held her long after she fell asleep. I needed to get Damien on the search for that biker group. Make sure she was safe. Protect her at all costs. If they were okay with the idea of whoring out someone’s sister, God only knew what else they were capable of doing. Hidden Justice could shut them down. Punish them.
I had never felt such a personal need for justice before now. But then again, I had never fallen—
I caught myself before I let my brain spew out the words.
I wasn’t in love with Tally. It wasn’t possible.
I looked down at her, asleep and safe in my arms.
Was it?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Julian
It was impossible not to notice how anxious Tally was the next day when I drove her to her apartment. Located downtown in a busy, crowded neighborhood, I had trouble finding a parking spot—one of the many difficulties of living in such a hectic area. Finally, after circling the block several times, I managed to find one, and I parked the car. Following her, I saw the tense set of her shoulders and the way her head moved back and forth as if searching for danger. I stepped to her side, drawing her close.
“No one will touch you.”
I felt her shuddering breath and squeezed her waist. She looked better this morning, her coloring returning to normal, and more rested. The bruises showed up on her creamy skin, but her voice wasn’t as raspy. She would heal—I would make sure of it.
I looked around her tiny place, trying not to show my distaste. One room with a bathroom in the corner, hidden by a door. A makeshift kitchen with a toaster oven and hot plate. Her bed pushed against the wall, piled with cushions to act as a sofa as well. A dresser beside it, chipped and worn. A tiny table with one chair tucked under it. The solitary chair spoke to me, its singleness a reminder of how alone in the world she was. A small rolling metal rack served as a closet.