She was already shaking her head before he finished.
“Reagan, we need to put up cameras to catch this person,” Tara told her. “Unless you’ve changed your mind and will move in with us?”
Alex sent his wife a look then nodded, looking resigned. “You would be safe at our place.”
“No. I’m not moving. This is my home. This is where all my stuff is. I thought we’d already settled this.” She rubbed at the headache she could feel forming.
“If you put in cameras,” Tara reminded her.
“Yes, but I thought they’d just be in the apartment. I don’t think we can put them in the foyer or outside, the building manager won’t
like it.”
“Why not?” Alex asked. “It increases security for the whole building.”
“He’ll understand once we tell him what’s going on,” Tara interjected.
“Maybe if he didn’t hate me he’d agree.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.” Tara bit her lip, not looking as certain as she sounded. “Why would he?”
Reagan shrugged. “Possibly because I called him a small-brained fascist with a little man complex.”
Tiny snorted. “That would do it.”
“Jesus, help me,” Alex muttered with exasperation. “Why’d you say that to him?”
Tiny frowned slightly, not liking the way the other man spoke to Reagan.
“He seemed to think I should give him a blow job for fixing my faucet. He even dropped his pants in my kitchen. He had a very small penis. I told him that as well.”
“He did what?” Tara asked loudly. “How does he still have his job?”
“You were easy on him,” Tiny growled, curious.
“I complained,” Reagan told them. “But the owner of the building lives overseas and didn’t reply. I thought about moving, but I like it here. I had to clean my apartment from top to bottom after he left, though.” She shuddered. “Who knows what germs he was carrying.”
“Could he be the one breaking in?” Alex theorized. “He has a key, and now he has a motive.”
“Me refusing to suck his tiny penis is enough of a reason for him to break into my apartment?” Reagan asked. She shook her head. “I really do not understand men.”
“He doesn’t represent all men,” Tiny told her. “Where does he live?”
“Apartment 1A. His name is Donald McDonald. I don’t know what his parents were thinking. If you’re going to speak to him, I’m coming with you.” Reagan’s eyes fairly sparkled with temper. She looked ready for a fight.
Tiny had a huge protective streak when it came to women. And she was his client. His responsibility.
“No.”
She placed her hands on her hips and glared up at him, not a hint of fear on her face. He readjusted his assessment earlier that she might fear him. This woman wasn’t the least bit afraid of him.
“Yes. In case you’ve forgotten, you work for me. You do what I say.”
“Ahh, Reagan…” Alex started to say.
Tiny shook his head at him. This was between him and Reagan. “I work for you. But you do what I say. Stay here.”
“I am not a dog,” she bit out.