Chapter 12

She likes the food.

I made food that Hannah likes, and I’m the fool who can’t stop smiling as I lay out a cushion and blanket on the sofa. It doesn’t matter that she likes the damn food, or that I went out and bought the ingredients for chicken piccata before she arrived. I’m setting myself up for fucking disappointment here.

Hannah knocks on the doorjamb of the living room, and I slam that scowl back into place before I turn around.

She’s wearing another pair of PJs which makes it difficult to concentrate. Strappy, baby blue silk top, matching shorts. Her hair falls in dark waves around her shoulders and bright blue eyes stare at me, full of concern. “Are you sure you’re okay with me taking your bed?” she asks. “I could sleep on the sofa. It’s not a problem.”

“No.”

Hannah hesitates. “That must be your favorite word.”

“First word I ever said.”

She snorts a laugh then blocks her mouth and nose with a hand. I want to tug it away and make her giggle again. “Okay, if you’re sure,” she says, rubbing her hands over her arms.

“Do you want me to turn up the heat?” I ask.

“No, I’m fine. I’m sure I’ll be good once I’m in your bed.” Her eyes go wide. “The bed. The bed that’s in your room, that I’m going to be spending the night in. Is what I mean.”

I love when she does that, gets all flustered.

“I can turn it up.”

“No, no. No. It’s all good.”

I frown at her.

She takes a step back. “Uh, I just wanted to say thank you for dinner. It was really tasty and super nice of you. It meant a—a regular amount to me.” Hannah flashes me a quick smile, and I want to keep it. I want to see it every day.

You are a fucking delusional mess.

“Goodnight,” she says.

“Goodnight.”

Hannah pats the doorjamb once, then waves and disappears from view. The door to my bedroom clicks shut in the hall, and I force myself to exhale and not punch something.

It’s a bad habit I have, breaking things when I can’t have what I want. No, that’s not true. I’m not two-years-old. I only break things when I can’t have Hannah or when she’s under threat.

I sit down on the sofa, rest my forearms on my knees and stare at my reflection on the black TV screen. I shake my head at myself. I’ve got to turn up the heat. Hannah might not want me to, but I’ve got to.

“Go to bed, Carter.” I’m about to get up when the lights shut off.

Fuck. The storm has kicked the power, which means things are going to get a lot colder than they already were. Lightning flashes outside.

I’m halfway across the living room to go check on Hannah, when a high-pitched scream breaks the patter of the rain on the roof.

Adrenaline bursts through my body. I sprint down the hallway and kick open the bedroom door.

It’s too dark to make anything out, but I grab my phone out of my pocket and switch on the flashlight. The beam cuts through the blackness.

Hannah’s frozen next to the bed, her hands out at her sides, staring out of the window into the backyard.

I scan the room, but apart from her, it’s empty.

“Hannah,” I say.

She spins toward me, hands up, terror on her face, and I want to tear the world apart again.

“What’s wrong?” I cross the distance between us. “What happened?”

“I—The power went out. The lightning. There’s someone out there.”

“Where?”

“There.” She points out of the bedroom window. “I swear, there was someone standing there, looking in. I swear. I’m not imagining?—”

I take her by the arms. “Take a breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Nice and slow and deep.”

She nods and does what I tell her to.

I can’t follow the advice because I’m already shaking with anger. I can’t go out there and hunt this motherfucker down, because if I do, she’ll be exposed. I don’t have eyes on the threat. The house is secure, but I don’t have a backup generator installed yet, so my cameras are out.

My laptop might have caught footage of whoever came up to the window before the cameras died, though.

I walk to the chest at the end of my bed then grab a taser from within. I hand it to Hannah. “Here,” I say. “You used one of these before?”

“No.”

I stand beside her, place my hand over hers, dwarfing her fingers with mine. “See this slide?” I click it back. “That’s the safety. You pull it back, aim, and then you click this button here. You aim for center mass. Failing that, neck or groin.”

“Groin?”

“Hit the fucker in the nutsack.”

Her lips tip up the corners for a second.

Smile for me, Princess. Show me you’re okay.

“You’re not going to leave, are you?”

“No,” I say. “I’m going to stay right here with you.” I walk to the curtains and shut them. I find her phone on the bedside table and hand it to her.

Hannah unlocks the screen with trembling fingers, but she’s freaking out so much she can’t get the flashlight app to work.

I take the phone from her, switch on the flashlight, and then guide her to the bed. “Sit down. I’ll be right back. I’m not leaving the house. Got it?”

“Okay.”

I move through the darkened hall with my cell phone. I grab my laptop from the coffee table, the pillow and the blanket, and then I return to the room. I dump the blanket and pillow on the hardwood floor at the foot of the bed.

“What are you doing?” Hannah’s got the taser in one hand and her phone in the other, and she’s sitting upright on the bed, eyes wide.

“Stay out of line of the windows,” I say, and lock the bedroom door. I lift the armchair from the corner of the room and place it in front of the bed, between the windows.

“Why?”

“Out of range of gunshots.”

“Gunshots?” She gasps.

“Yes.”

I sit in the armchair with my laptop, even though I want to tear through the window and rip out someone’s throat with my bare hands. The key to being a good bodyguard is constant assessment, it’s remaining calm under pressure, and I can’t let my weird… whatever the fuck it is that I feel toward Hannah get in the way of keeping her safe.

“Savage?” she whispers. “What if there’s someone out there? What do we do then?”

“You do nothing,” I say. “I’ll protect you.”

Hannah doesn’t answer, and I focus on my laptop screen. I don’t have wifi thanks to the power outage, but I have a copy of the video footage leading up to the power outage—I make sure that the cloud downloads a backed up copy to my laptop every five minutes.

I open the video footage from the camera that’s outside my bedroom and scroll through it rapidly.

No lights of approaching cars after Hannah arrived.

There. A guy in a hoodie approaching the window. I can’t make out his features, but he was there. I scan him, taking in what I can about potential height and weight. His hands are in his pockets. Baggy clothing. Could be armed.

It could also be a homeless person who was looking for help and who got spooked when Hannah screamed.

But I can’t take that chance until I hear back from Cash. He left this morning, ahead of the storm, to get to Hannah’s stalker.

“Savage? Was there actually a guy out there?”

“Yes.” I shut the laptop lid and set it on the chest. I get up and lay the pillow and blanket out on the floor. It’s already getting real fucking cold in here, real fast. “Do you need anything?” I ask. “Do you need a glass of water?”

“No, I’m fine,” she whispers.

“Good. For your safety, I’m going to sleep on the floor over here.”

Hannah swallows. “But?—”

“I think it’s for the best. You’re safe with me.”

Hannah presses her lips together and doesn’t say anything more. She gets into bed and pulls the covers up to her chin, staring at the ceiling. She’s shaking, and the rain and lightning continues, rumbling overhead.

Once the weather clears and the power is back on, I’ll deal with the threat outside. Until then, I have to stay with her, in the same room, and it doesn’t matter that it’s pure torture. I will do anything to keep Hannah safe.