Page 37

I shake my head, moving for the kitchen, which is open to the living room. “Nope. You’re not leaving this cabin.”

“What?” Her tone is kind of bristly. She doesn’t like that. But she doesn’t have to. All she needs to do is stay in my sight. Safe.

“You need to keep a low profile,” I say.

“You said Quince Valley was safe. No one knows me here.”

“Doesn’t matter.” I inspect the fridge. Empty shelves and condiments; I’m going to have to grab a few things tomorrow. “I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Griffin, do you really think Creelman’s going to come up here looking for me?” Her tone isn’t fearful. It’s searching. Verifying facts.

The chances of Creelman showing up here, knowing Sasha has a connection to Quince Valley—or me—are slim to none. But I need to walk that thin line again. I shift to the cupboards. “No. I don’t. But we don’t know anything right now. Better to be safe than sorry.”

Sasha sets the photo down. Not hard enough to break it, but enough that I know she’s upset. “Listen, I know you’re very good at your job—whatever that is. Bodyguard? You never said.”

“I’m in Tech.” My standard answer.

“Sure.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you’re a good…tech. But I don’t want to live my life scared if I don’t have to be.” She walks over to me. “Griffin, when that man showed up at my apartment, I’ve never been more scared. Vincent Creelman would be thrilled to know that. But I’m not going to let him dictate how my life is going to go.”

Clearly I’ve swung too far into the easygoing side of things.

I run my hand over my face. What would have happened if she hadn’t called me? I imagine her taken, her hands bound, gagged. Fury at the assholes who put her in harm’s way rises like an animal inside me. “Listen, Sasha, you’re safe here. I mean that. But we’re still in hiding. If Creelman finds out where you are—and he’s going to try his fucking hardest—you’re in serious danger.”

“I know the stakes,” she says, her voice steady.

“Do you? I’m not sure you know what a man like that is capable of.”

Sasha swallows.

Fuck me.

But she’s not falling back into fear. If anything, she looks more resolved.

“Griffin, I’ll be grateful for what you’ve done for me ’til the day I die. I am, right this second. But this is my life. I need to still live. If I’m safe, I can’t stay locked up. I spent too long trapped in a cage to let that man put me back in there.”

I see it suddenly, the childhood she must have had. The daughter of the beauty queen mistress who needed to fit into a judgmental, moneyed world she was accused of sleeping her way into. She sure as hell would have made sure her daughter fit into that world, whether she wanted it or not.

But this isn’t the same. And right now, I’m suddenly too tired to think of how to get through to her. “We should get some sleep.”

She blinks, anger flushing her cheeks. But I can see the weariness in her, too. “Fine,” she relents. “We’ll both think more clearly with some sleep.”

If she thinks I’m going to change my mind, I’m not. Her staying put in this cabin is nonnegotiable. But I just grunt. It’s the best I can do.

Sasha strides back to the living room and picks the sheet off the couch, shaking it out.

“What are you doing?”

“Setting up my bed.”

“You’re not sleeping there.”

Her nostrils flare. “I’m not taking your bed.”

“Of course you are.”

She shoots daggers at me. “I don’t like being told what to do, Griffin.”

I take a breath, trying to keep my voice at a tone that doesn’t sound demanding. “You’ll get a better night’s sleep in there. The window’s double insulated, and it’s got a blackout curtain. Out here, you’ll hear all the birds, and there’s those.” I point to the windows up in the arched ceiling where the sun pours in in the morning.