"Stay where?"
"Your apartment. Until the threat passes."
She stares at me. "You want to move in with me?"
"I want to keep you alive."
"By sleeping on my couch?"
"By staying close enough to make sure nothing happens to you."
Her laugh has no humor. "This is insane."
"Moran threatened you in public. That requires a response." I step closer, close enough to smell her perfume mixed with the scent of beer and whiskey from work. "Either you disappear, or I stay close enough to protect what's mine."
The possessive words slip out before I can stop them. Her breathing changes, becoming shallower.
"I'm not yours," she says, but her voice lacks conviction.
"Tonight you are."
She considers this, weighing options. I see her calculating angles, escape routes, contingencies. The woman thinks like a tactician.
"Fine," she says. "But I set the rules."
"Such as?"
"You sleep on the couch. You don't touch my things. You don't answer my phone or door. And this ends the minute Moran backs off."
"Agreed."
"And you cook. I'm not your maid."
I can manage that. "One more thing."
"What?"
"If you snore, I'm sleeping in your bed with you."
Her face flushes. "I don't snore."
"Good to know."
She grabs her jacket and heads for the door. I follow her into the night, scanning shadows for watchers. Three blocks to her building. My eyes drift to the sway of her hips as she walks, the confident stride that draws attention from every man we pass.
Mine to protect. The thought burns through me.
Her apartment occupies the second floor of a converted triple-decker. Two bedrooms, small kitchen, living room that barely fits a couch and television. Clean but sparse. The kind of place someone keeps when they don't plan to stay long.
"Bathroom's there," she says, pointing down a short hallway. "Towels in the closet. I sleep with the door locked."
"Smart practice."
She disappears into her bedroom. I hear the click of a deadbolt.
I check the windows—fire escape access, good sight lines to the street. Front door has decent locks but needs reinforcement. Kitchen knives sharp enough for defense if needed.
The couch looks comfortable. I've slept in worse places.
