Page 26 of The Complete Truth Duet
That is until he tilted his head up, shoved the hood back, and found my gaze with a tangible weight that nearly crushed me.
“Jesus, Penn.” My heart slammed in my chest partially because he had scared the hell out of me. But mainly because he was staring at me.
Hard. Penetrating. Acute. I had not one doubt that he was reading me down to the marrow in my bones, and for the strangest reason, with him, I was okay with that.
A rush of heat pinked my cheeks as I managed to stammer out, “Wh…what are you doing out here?”
“Why aren’t you dressed?” he countered, leaving me to question if he actually could see through the quilt.
I glanced down, finding that my trusty quilt had split open, revealing my legs all the way up to my panties. Quickly shifting, I used my other hand to hold the bottom closed as well. “I was just running down to check on Jennifer.”
“Naked and in the dark?” He remained eerily still, his hands at his sides, his feet set shoulder-width apart, and his eyes locked on mine to the point that I could barely breathe.
“I’m not naked and…I didn’t think anyone else was up.”
He blinked and I swear the night dimmed with his lids.
Cocking his head to the side, he repeated more slowly this time. “In…the…dark, Cora?”
“The lights on the third don’t work. They haven’t in at least a year.” Careful not to release my blanket, I used a single finger to point up at the ceiling. “I’ve changed the bulbs, but I think it’s electrical.”
“Shit can happen to a woman when they’re alone and in the dark.” It wasn’t a threat; if anything, it sounded like he was trying to offer me a fatherly warning. But I’d lived in that building long enough to know it was bullshit.
“Shit can also happen to a woman when they’re in a group and in broad daylight. Company or time of day isn’t exactly a factor.”
Suddenly, he became unstuck. Long strides carried him toward me. It would have been a really good time for nature’s fight-or-flight to kick in.
But that was the thing: I wasn’t afraid.
I didn’t know Penn. Where he had come from? Why he was truly there? What he was capable of? So call me naïve or just plain stupid, but he didn’t scare me.
Not after that day in the bathroom with Savannah.
Not after everything he’d done for Angela.
Not after everything he’d done for me.
I’d met a lot of bad men in my twenty-nine years, and Penn Walker was not one of them.
He stopped in front of me and rumbled, “Time of day might not be a factor, but this fucking neighborhood is.”
He was not wrong. The two other complexes on the street had been broken into so often that it seemed like they were on a weekly rotation. But a Guerrero had owned our building from the very first brick, which made it clear to the criminal population that we were untouchable—at least from the outside world. The monsters we worried about had their own set of keys. They were the same monsters who hated me, beat me, and had me locked away more than once, but they would have murdered an entire city if anyone else had laid a single finger on me. It was the only perk of being Guerrero property.
“Trust me, Penn. No one would be brave enough to take a stab at me.”
Out of nowhere, his face paled and a tortured combination of pure masculine beauty and soul-crushing agony crashed over him.
I knew that look of pain all too well. I usually saw it in the mirror though.
After shuffling over, I placed my palm on his chest. “Jesus, Penn. Are you okay?”
“Don’t do that,” he choked out as though my hand were wrapped around his throat and not resting over his heart.
I made a move to pull it away, but before I had the chance, his eyes slammed shut, his face drew up tight, and his large palm came down over my hand, pinning it to his heaving chest. “Shit, don’t do that, either.”
Okay. So no touching. And no not touching. Got it.
I searched his face for answers but came up empty. Though, after the last twenty-four hours, one could assume… “Is this about Angela?” I asked, wishing I’d had the courage to ask the real question. Is this about Lisa? Whoever she may be.
“No.”
“What about—”
He gave my hand a squeeze. “Cora, shhhh.”
Ooookay. So no talking, either. Not exactly my forte, but I’d give it a try.
For about thirty seconds.
“You can talk to me. I’m a great listener.” When he didn’t reply, I tacked on, “Please.”
Popping his eyes open, he winced. “You gotta stop sayin’ that.”
“I’m just trying to help.”
“But you’re not.” Releasing my hand, he flew away as if I’d been holding him hostage. The loss of his warmth was violent, and the cold night’s air assaulted me.
