Page 15 of The Stalking King

He groans, then lets out a frustrated breath. “The phone belongs to my organization. It’s important. I’ve got no idea why Daniel Mercer took it, but I know that my rival wants it. Badly. It would mean the end of my business and a whole host of other bad things too. Bad people taking control of this city.”

“As opposed to the angels we have now?” I say dryly.

He pulls away from the red light, chuckling. Making him laugh feels good. “Fair point. But things can always get worse.”

“Why do they want me?”

“You went toe-to-toe with one of their scariest men and didn’t bat an eye. They might think you’re hiding the phone for a personal reason, that you know something. Maybe they saw us talking together. Maybe they think there’s a connection.”

“A connection,” I repeat.

“A business connection,” he says gruffly.

I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. There’s a pang in my heart when I think about how he subdued that man. And there’s a tightness somewhere else too, a place I can’t afford to acknowledge, when I think about the protective fire radiating from him.

His texts swirl around in my mind. He’s not going to let anyone hurt me…

He runs his hand through his hair.

I gasp, leaning forward automatically. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Let me have a look.”

I shouldn’t care if he’s hurt, but I do. That’s the cold fact. Just like I trusted him the first time we met because… because he spoke intimately, huskily? Is that a reason to trust someone?

Clearly, he didn’t hurt Joel. So my gamble paid off. But it was still a risk, just like every moment with him is.

I take his hand and gently turn it over. The electricity is immediate, surging through me, hot and urgent just like when he pulled me into his arms.

“You must’ve scuffed it on the concrete,” I murmur. “We’ll clean it at my place.”

“If it’s safe,” he growls.

“I can’t believe what my life has become,” I murmur, letting his hand go. It takes far more effort than it should. “All over a phone I know nothing about.” I lean against the window. “Are we going to talk about the fact you’re stalking me?”

“Protecting, Lia,” he growls.

“Doesn’t that usually require consent?”

“If I’d waited for consent, you’d be in a bad, bad place,” he says fiercely. “With bad things happening to you. I won’t apologize for keeping you safe.”

It’s a little annoying that I can’t argue with that. “I’m a thirty-year-old woman,” I say.

He inclines his head. “And I’m a forty-five-year-old man. I love long walks on the beach and being out in nature.”

“Really?” I ask, shocked.

He laughs grimly. “No, not really. Maybe I would, if I had the time to do anything like that. Or somebody to do it with.”

I laugh—then cut it off. It’s shocking how easily he can puncture my shield and make me giggle. “I mean,” I go on, “that you don’t have to lie to me. If you were going to keep watch anyway, you should have told me. Obviously, if you weren’t here tonight, I would’ve been in big, big trouble. I get that. But it’s still difficult.”

“True,” he agrees. “I’m not used to telling the truth.”

“That’s reassuring.”

He shrugs. “It’s my world. It’s how everyone I know functions. It’s how I’ve always functioned. I don’t know how to change it.”