Page 45 of Disarming Caine

“What’s the matter? You sound—”

“You’re not going to believe this.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m at the hotel.”

“Are you safe? Do you need me?” Ready to protect me again.

“I’m fine.” I stood and walked to the main room. “Good news is they caught the shooter from last night.”

“Fantastico! This is marvelous news!”

“Yeah, it is. I’ll give you the details tonight.” My gaze fell to the boarded-up balcony door.

“Why don’t you sound happy? There’s bad news?”

I scrubbed at my forehead, as if it would fix something. “Yeah, they’re kicking me out.”

“They’re what?”

“I got a letter. I have to vacate by Saturday.”

He was silent, other than a quiet hum of acknowledgment. No invitation to stay with him. I screwed things up last night. I’d have to call Cass.

“I swear, Antonio! I’ve been looking for an apartment since the end of August! What am I going to—”

“Samantha.” He said it softly, like wrapping me up in his arms, soothing my every nerve. “You’re staying here tonight. Worry about the rest later.”

I rolled my neck.Calm down.This news, being in the hotel room, Harry talking about the shootings being linked. “I’m only working in the morning tomorrow, so I’ll pack up when I finish.”

“Would you like company for that? I can carry boxes.”

“You’re supposed to be taking care of your injured shoulder. No box carrying.” And no me carrying, but he’d done that and soaked his stitches in the shower this morning, too. That shoulder was going to take forever to heal.

“I’m an excellent packer. I can do color-coding or by theme or—”

“Nah, I can handle it my—”

“Bella, let me reword. Can we spend that time together? I promise not to get in your way.”

I stared down at my feet, smiling, warmth pooling in my chest. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“It’s settled! Are you done work?”

“No, just picking up some things for tonight. Then I have one more appointment.”

“Alright. Well, I must go. I’m quite busy.”

“Oh! Sorry for interrupting!”

“Never too busy for you. See you at seven.”

As I hung up, I blew out a long breath, head falling back. Forensics had dug three holes out of the ceiling over the kitchenette. There was more work to do in here than just cleaning bloodstains and replacing the balcony door.

Wait.

Three bullet holes here, three in the bedroom. As the shooter switched from the balcony door to the bedroom window, I’d heard another bullet impact the outer wall and seen debris fly away in the mirror’s reflection.