“Yeah, you do,” Andre agrees.
“Good luck,” Creed offers before the two men walk out the door.
“So…” Tristan starts. “I guess —”
“I don’t feel safe here,” I blurt out before he can say goodbye as well.
“Hell, I don’t feel safe here,” he replies with a grin that I know means he’s kidding. I guess a tough guy like him isn’t scared of much.
“Could I… I mean, I could call someone and ask, but it’s late,” I say in a rush before finally getting to the point. “Could I stay with you tonight? I can pay you for protection. Isn’t that how the mob works?”
Tristan blinks at me silently for a long moment. “Fuck no. I don’t want your money.”
“Oh,” I say as the weight of disappointment wells up in my chest. I guess there’s no amount of money in the world that’s worth dying for…
“You’re not leaving my side until Bowen is dead.”
“What?”
“Well? Go pack up your shit so we can go,” he orders. “I’m beat.”
He was saying no to me paying him, not to letting me stay. Thank God.
I nod and turn away with my shoulders sagging in relief to go grab a couple of suits and my toiletries. Anxiety meds are also a given.
If someone had told me a few weeks ago I’d feel safe with one of my most terrifying criminal defendants and that I’d willingly go home with him, I would’ve told them they were certifiably insane. I never would’ve gotten close enough to speak to a defendant without a police escort before. And now…now I’m trusting one with my life.
The drive to Tristan’s apartment in his truck is short. When we’re walking up the stairs, he stops mid-step with my luggagein his grip and turns around to face me. There’s an odd, slightly terrified look on his face for the very first time. “So, um, there’s something you should know before we go inside.”
“What?” I ask, figuring he’s a slob or has the occasional bug run across his messy floor. “Just spit it out. I’m tired, and it’s been a horrible night…and your building is not what I expected…”
“Oh. What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. A dark, dingy evil lair?” I tease with a grin. Instead, the building is so nice and new. I probably couldn’t afford a studio apartment here on my public servant salary. My trust fund is another story, but I try not to touch that money unless absolutely necessary.
“Right. Well, I, ah, I should’ve mentioned that I have a few roommates,” Tristan explains.
Shit. Here’s hoping they’re all asleep and don’t recognize me if not. Although, only an idiot would chance pissing off Tristan Ferraro. “And you don’t think they’ll approve of a guest?”
“Well, yes and no. They won’t like you, but since they don’t pay rent, they don’t have any right to bitch.”
“You let people live rent-free in your apartment?” Why would he do that? The rent must cost a fortune.
“Yes. It’s late tonight, but I swear I’ll kick them all out in the morning. Every single one, okay? Just don’t freak out and leave.”
“Where else would I go tonight?” I whisper on a sigh.
“Promise me,” he says in that demanding voice I first heard at the club.
“Fine, I promise. Just, could we please go inside now?”
He nods and pulls out his keys from his pocket to unlock the door.
I’m not sure what I expected to find in Tristan’s dark apartment. It’s a beautiful, open loft apartment based on thestreetlight coming in through the cracks in the shades. But I certainly wasn’t anticipating half-dressed, passed out women lying everywhere. And I meaneverywhere!
There are three of them,three, in a giant king-sized bed. One is stretched out on the black leather sectional, and two are on a mattress on the floor. A few stir when they hear us come in, and I stand there in frozen shock. One in the bed sits up and waves a hand toward Tristan, blows him a kiss then flops back down on her side.
The girl on the sofa sits up, stretches her arms over her head, and says, “Hi, sweetie. You finally sleeping here tonight?”
