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Pirate leaped into the back seat on command, still watchful. After Daniel climbed inside and started the engine, Polly’s fingers found his hand on the gearshift.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

He squeezed once, reassuring her and grounding his own raw emotions. But he couldn’t honestly answer yes.

Tate Emery was an egotistical prick. But he was an in-your-face threat. That, Daniel could handle. But there was a threat in the shadows as well. Anonymous notes. Driving a car that belonged to a dead man. Watching her from the shadows. Was that part of Emery’s long game with Polly? Make her so afraid that she’d turn to him for comfort? Did he have an ally helping him? A split personality that allowed him to be slimy and slick one moment, and a silent, far more stalkerish threat the next?

That was the enemy Daniel couldn’t see. Just like that IED and ambush that had taken his friends, his career and half his face, he hadn’t seen it coming until it was too late. Could he truly be the Special Forces Marine Polly needed to keep her safe? She seemed to believe in his abilities. But did he? Could he risk being less than the man she believed him to be?

“Daniel?” she prodded, waiting expectantly for an answer. “Are you all right?”

He offered her that hint of a smile she said she liked and shifted the truck into gear. But no, he couldn’t lie and say that he was.

They drove out of the garage, leaving the echo of footsteps behind them.

Chapter Twelve

The ride back to her place was quiet. Pirate’s snoring from the back seat and the rustle of the take-out bag between them were the only sounds that dared to fill the space Daniel’s silence left behind. Polly wanted to say something—to tell him he’d done the right thing, that she didn’t blame him for what happened in the parking garage. She had a feeling Tate Emery had understood Daniel’s actions more clearly than her own words, and she was grateful to him for going all Marine on her nemesis. But she saw the set of his jaw, the distance in his gray eye, and knew he was somewhere far away inside his own head.

He pulled into a parking spot near her building and shifted the truck into Park, his hands still wrapped around the steering wheel. “I’m going to head back to St. Luke’s,” he said finally. “There’s a small group that meets on Fridays, and I… I need to go. I need to talk to someone before this gets worse.”

The honesty in his voice hit her straight in the chest. It wasn’t avoidance—it was awareness. The man she cared about was fighting to keep his ghosts in check. That took courage.

“Then you should go,” she said softly. “I’m proud of you for knowing when to ask for help.”

He grunted. “Makes me feel like I’m not strong enough to take care of you when you need me to.”

Polly sat up straight at that confession. “It just means you’re smarter and braver than the people who don’t ask for help when they need it. Daniel, you’re the strongest man I know. And I’m not just talking physically—I mean your strength of character. You’re a wounded warrior who keeps on doing whatever is necessary to not only survive, but to thrive. Not many people have that kind of inner strength.”

He turned toward her, the shadows under his eyes deep but the corner of his mouth twitching into that almost smile at her steadfast defense of him. “I’ll call you later.”

“Promise?”

He nodded.

She reached for the bag between them, pulling out her share of the barbecue. It was warm through the cardboard, the scent of smoky sauce and grilled meat filling the cab. “Then I’ll take this and let you get going.”

Daniel leaned across the console, his gaze steady now. She met him halfway. The kiss was soft, brief, grounding—more reassurance than passion—and she tried to convey every bit of the love she felt for him in that gentle contact.

“Take care of yourself,” she whispered, stroking her fingers across his stubbled jaw.

“You, too, Sunshine,” he murmured. “I’ll wait until you get inside.”

Polly climbed out of the truck, tugging her coat tighter against the cold as she crossed the short stretch to her building’s glass doors. The entryway lights came on automatically, bathing the small lobby in golden light. She turned back once, lifting a hand.

Daniel was still there, engine idling, watching through the windows until she swiped her key card and stepped inside. Through the glass, she caught one last glimpse of him—his silhouette framed by the glow of the dashboard lights—before he nodded once and pulled away from the curb.

The heat in the lobby made her breath catch as she adjusted to the warmer temperature. She glanced toward the elevator, groaning softly when she saw the handwritten out-of-order sign still taped to the metal doors.

“Great. Guess it’s the stairs again,” she muttered, balancing the take-out container in one hand as she started up the narrow flight to the fifth floor. Her tired legs burned by the third landing, but she pushed on.

When she reached her door, she breathed out a long sigh of relief. Home. Safety. Although she’d spent so much time over the past few days with Daniel, and missed that he wasn’t with her, she was happy to be back to her own space where she could kick off her boots, throw on some comfy clothes and relax. He was taking care of himself and his needs tonight, and she intended to do the same. She turned the key in the lock, pushed the door open and flipped on the light.

The familiar hum of the refrigerator filled the quiet space, followed by the faint, savory scent of smoked meat wafting from the box she carried. Everything looked just as she’d left it that morning—until a small black-and-white blur came bounding out of the hallway.

“Luna?” Polly blinked. The pit bull puppy wiggled with joy, tail flying back and forth as she rushed forward to greet her.

Polly crouched down, scratching behind the pup’s ears, a smile tugging at her lips before confusion chased it away. “How did you get out of your crate?”