Page 24 of Keeping Knight

In truth, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about having Ruby stay at my condo. It wouldn’t have made any difference, because once she accepted my offer, I wouldn't dream of going back on it. But I haven’t lived with anyone else in over a decade. I haven’t even had a woman stay over since I moved here. Aside from the few times a year that my parents come to visit, it’s just me and Sampson, and I haven’t minded at all.

No, she hasn’t been here long—only two nights and a little over a day in total. But already she fits like she’s been here much longer.

The condo feels more alive with her here. She brings a softness that I didn’t realize was missing.

And I like taking care of her. Making her oatmeal and soup and overcooked pasta and pudding—all things that won’t hurt her poor, injured throat. Brewing tea that I ordered from the specialty tea shop in Chinatown that’s supposed to stimulate healing and buying arnica ointment for her to use on her bruises. Sitting with her, watching the sunrise, and quietly talking about everything and anything. Rushing to her side when she has a nightmare and reassuring her that everything will be okay.

I thought I was just bringing Ruby here for protection. But I find myself wanting to give her so much more than that.

As I watch Ruby pet Sampson—her hair glowing like fire as the sun hits it—I’m struck by the memory of something my mom said to me. It was a couple of Christmases ago, and I’d taken a few days off work to visit my parents in Potomac. We were sitting around the tree on Christmas Eve, and she suddenly looked at me and said, “I know you don’t think you want to be with someone, Micah. But when you meet the right woman, all that talk about staying single will fly right out the window. Trust me. It happened to me when I met your dad. And it’ll happen to you one day, too.”

At the time, I just agreed to humor her. But ever since I met Ruby, I’ve wondered if my mom could have been right.

Interrupting my wandering thoughts, my watch vibrates with an incoming message. Switching the mug to my other hand, I lift my left wrist to read the text.

It’s from Houdini.

Ready when you are. Want to meet at your place or there?

Houdini is going over to Ruby’s apartment with me for the dual purpose of setting up hidden security cameras and packing up the list of things Ruby wants from there. My plan was to go over yesterday for her personal items, but I was hesitant to leave her after the nightmare and the stress of our meeting.

But I can’t expect Ruby to keep wearing my clothes, no matter how much I enjoy seeing her in them. And we need to get the cameras up as part of our plan—we’re going to install hidden cameras inside and outside her apartment, and intentionally leave only the doorknob locked, in hopes that her attacker might come back again.

Oh, and we’re setting up smart plugs so the lamps will come on automatically to make it look like she’s home. Plus a special soundtrack that includes normal day-to-day sounds—running water, dishes clinking, the TV playing—that will add to the illusion.

Will it work? Who knows. The attacker could decide it’s too risky to come after Ruby at her apartment again. Or he could be really determined and try for a second time. That’s what I’m hoping, because if he does, we’ll get him.

Using my finger, I scribble a quick reply to Houdini.

Meet here. Half hour work?

A few seconds pass before his response appears.

See you then.

With that decided, I clear my throat to signal I’m here. Given how jumpy Ruby’s been—which is absolutely understandable—I’ve been trying to make some kind of sound whenever I walk into a room she’s already in.

Still, she jolts at the sound. As she turns, I don’t miss the flicker of fear in her eyes that disappears once she realizes it’s me. “Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Ruby smiles. “Oh, you didn’t.”

“A little,” I press.

“Startled,” she clarifies. “And that’s not your fault. I don’t expect you to creep around like a ghost.”

I walk across the room and sit on the couch beside her. Then I hold out the tea. “I thought you might like some. I added honey, so hopefully it’ll taste better this time.”

Her nose crinkles. “Is that the special healing tea?”

“It is. Do you really hate it?”

“I don’t hate it,” she replies. “I’m not sure I’d say I love it. But if it helps my throat heal faster…”

“Rogue said it would. He’s the one who researched it. So if you hate it, you should really blame him, and not me.”

Ruby stares at the tea. Then she lifts the mug to her mouth and takes a sip. After a moment, she says, “Okay, the honey makes it a lot better.”

“Good.” I glance at the bruises on her face and neck. I checked them earlier, when we were having our morning coffee, but now that we’re in the bright light of the mid-morning sun, I’d like to take another look.