Page 9 of Razor’s Redemption

He nods, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders. "Where should I pick you up?"

"The Caldwell Building. Corner of Fifth and Main. The offices are on the third floor, but I can meet you out front."

"Eleven PM?"

"Yes."

"I'll be there."

He stands, and I stand too, suddenly not wanting him to go even though I know he's right about the sleep I desperately need. I walk him to the door, and he pauses on the threshold, turns back to face me.

"Lock this behind me," he says. "And if anything happens before tomorrow, anything at all, you call someone."

"I don't really have anyone to call."

He pulls out his phone, unlocks it, and hands it to me. "Put your number in."

I take the phone, add my contact information, and hand it back. He immediately sends me a text, just his name, *Razor*, so I have his number too.

"Now you have someone," he says.

"Thank you," I whisper. "For everything. Tonight, I mean. For—"

"Don't thank me for that. Anyone would've done the same."

"No," I say firmly. "They wouldn't have. But you did."

He looks at me for a brief moment, then he nods once and steps out onto the porch. I watch him walk to his motorcycle, watch him swing his leg over and start the engine. He looks back at me once, makes sure I'm still in the doorway, then pulls away from the curb.

I lock the door behind him like he told me to.

And I stand there in the dark entryway, my phone warm in my hand with his number saved in it, wondering what the hell just happened and why I already can't wait until eleven PM tomorrow.

I'm still standing there, staring at the door, when I hear footsteps behind me.

"So," Mom says from the hallway. "That's an interesting man."

I turn to find her leaning against the wall, arms crossed, that knowing smirk on her face that I haven't seen in years. The one that says she's reading way more into this than she should.

"Mom, it's not like that."

"I didn't say it was like anything." She pushes off the wall and walks closer. "I'm just observing that the tattooed motorcycle man who saved my daughter from getting mugged is very tall, very polite, and looked at you like you hung the moon."

"He did not—"

"He absolutely did." She reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "And you looked at him the same way."

"I just met him tonight."

"Sometimes that's all it takes." Her smile turns wistful. "Your father had a reputation too, you know. Everyone warned me about him, said he was a rebel, always getting into fights, not the kind of man you bring home to your parents. But he was good to me. Protected me. Loved me fiercely until the day he died."

My throat tightens. I'd forgotten that about Dad, the stories of bar fights and bloody knuckles that Mom used to tell with equal parts exasperation and fondness.

"This is different," I whisper.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

I shake my head, exhaustion finally crashing over me in waves. "I can't, Mom. You know I can't. Luna comes first. No men, no dating, no distractions until she's older. That's the rule."