Page 78 of Brutal
What the hell does he mean by that? I huff out a breath. “You were watching my building.”
No response.
I step closer. “Yesterday you show up in my apartment. This morning, you’re outside again.”
Still nothing.
No denial.
That’s answer enough.
“Were you there?” I ask. “At the marina?”
His expression doesn’t change. “You’re asking the wrong question.”
“Then give me the right one.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you won’t like the answer.”
“Try me.”
He tenses. “You don’t walk away from that answer.”
“That’s not your decision.”
“No,” he says. “But it becomes my problem.”
I close the distance. Close enough to feel the heat of him.
“Everything seems to be your problem lately,” I say quietly. “My apartment. My questions. Me.”
Something shifts in his expression. “You keep putting yourself in places you shouldn’t be,” he says.
“And you keep showing up.”
Neither of us moves.
“If you’re going to stand here and warn me,” I say, “at least do it somewhere private.”
I turn and walk back to the building. I don’t look back. I don’t need to. I already know he’s following me.
The elevator ride is silent.
He stands behind me—not touching, not speaking—but close enough that I can feel him there. Heat at my back. His presence. My flesh tingles.
I don’t turn around.
If I do, something will happen too soon.
The doors slide open. I step out first and walk toward my apartment. My keys are already in my hand by the time I reach my door, but for a second—just a second—I hesitate.
Not because I don’t want him inside.
But because I know exactly what happens if I let him in.
