“I trust you.” Despite the uncertainty of him staying. He will protect me.
He drops my chin and squeezes me tighter. After a moment, I wriggle free. I can’t stand to be in here after someone has violated it so horribly. Fucking monster. And whoever it is, is focused on me. There’s no other explanation. It has to be the Brambillas. But this level of anger—this isn’t a car bump, trying to get me to stop and make myself vulnerable. This is violent and personal.
Roiling nausea tears through my gut.
I take a slow, deep breath and let Tyler guide me downstairs. But instead of pausing on the second floor, where the guys rearrange the living space, I continue to the kitchen. The laundry can wait until the morning. From the kitchen cabinet, I select my favorite ceramic mug that I picked up at an arts and crafts fair a couple of years ago. Chamomile tea should help. I set a timer to allow the bag to steep. The scent, the process, and wrapping my hands around the warm mug calm me.
“Bed’s ready for you.” Tyler hovers in the doorway, speaking so softly I have to focus to hear him. “Is there anything you need from your room? I can get it. Toothbrush?”
I lift my gaze to his. “And clothes for tomorrow. And pajamas.” I set the mug down. “I can get them. You don’t have to.”
“Let me take care of you.” His pleading tone squeezes my heart.
I give a vague nod, collect my cup, and settle into a chair at the dining room table. The room is purposely cheerful and one of my favorites. I love feeding my guests, chatting about their plans for the day, and hearing their stories when they return. Will I ever have that again?
* * *
The dining roomacts as tech central, with Blake’s laptop and gear set up at one end. I stand with the guys circling Blake, leaning forward, staring at his screen.
“We need more lighting. Motion activated,” Alex says once we finish reviewing the video feeds.
Blake clicks the mouse and freezes on an image of a large man bent over the trunk of my car.
“I’m pretty sure that’s the same guy who followed me in the hardware store, same size. Same black clothing.” I’m repeating myself. But I just watched him write down my license plate from two different angles. And it wasn’t the same guy who shot the lock out of the back door.
That was Enzo. I could barely spit his name out when Blake showed me the video.
I could only see part of his face in the recording, but I’d know his evil image anywhere. I’m torn between running as far and as fast as I can and fighting to protect what used to be my sanctuary. It’s like two cats wrestling in my gut, slicing me apart.
I pace from room to room downstairs. The breakfast dishes are done. I should start laundry, but I don’t want to go in the basement. I could work on one of the rooms upstairs, but they’re all occupied. I can’t think clearly enough to work in my office. The leaves falling from the trees out back have covered the lawn. I could rake them up, but I’d have to get the rake from downstairs.
A touch on my back startles me. “What?”
Tyler backs up, hands raised. “Just checking on you.”
“I’m fine.” I cross my arms and glare at him. “That’s what you want to hear, right? Green, sir? Everything is fine. My inn was violated. Some asshole is after me. I’m surrounded by a bunch of bossy men, taking over my business, my home, my life. What could possibly be wrong? I’m fucking fine.” I’m not. I’m shaking and about to go out of my mind. “I’m not the bad guy, but I’m the one in prison.” I swing my arms around, showcasing my beautiful cage.
“Come here.” Tyler holds his arms open.
I hesitate. But he’s not the bad guy either. I step into his embrace. He holds me as I stare at the backyard, wishing none of this had ever happened. That I’d never worked for the Brambillas. But if that were the case, I wouldn’t know Tyler. I’m not sure I’m ready to wish him away completely.
“Why don’t you call Katherine?” I watch him in the reflection from the window. “Get out of here for a little while.”
I can’t believe Tyler is willing to let me out of his sight. “I should fix my room. At least help.”
“No, you should let us take care of it. I’m perfectly capable of cleaning a mirror and mopping the floor.”
Every time I let him do something for me, I get pulled in a little deeper. A little more dependent. A little more trusting. A little more in love. I’m nearly at the point I don’t know how I’ll recover when he’s gone. “I don’t—”
“Go to the spa or something.” Tyler crosses his arms and stares down at me.
I give in and call Katherine. She instantly agrees. “She’s picking me up in the next hour.”
Tyler tugs me into his arms. “Good.”
His heat and his strength restore me like a good cup of tea.
Since we just had pedicures for her wedding a couple of weeks ago, and with my line of work, I never bother with a manicure, Katherine and I decide to drive into Basalt. It has the same brick walkways as Alabaster, but it's more upscale. We stroll through a couple of art galleries and past a few boutiques. A fly-fishing shop is doing brisk business. A feeling of being watched prickles at my back, and I crane my neck to scan the road behind us.
