Page 161 of King of Pain

“How long?” I ask.

He raises a brow. “How long what?”

“How long did you have someone watching me, Chance?”

He doesn’t even flinch. “Pretty much from the beginning. Murph flew straight here after dropping me at the cabin. He watched over you until we had someone to rotate in.”

I nod slowly. “I remember you talking about Murph. He’s the one with the neck tattoos, right?”

“Yep,” he says, popping the ‘p.’ “He’s my oldest and closest friend outside of you.”

I cross my arms and lean back in my chair, pretending to pout. “He’s gorgeous. And Deacon out there has a whole Reacher vibe going on. It’s probably better you didn’t let them talk to me.”

Chance barks out a laugh and throws a sugar packet at me. “You’re such a brat.”

I smirk as I tear the packet open and dump it in my coffee, stirring lazily.

Chance quiets, just slightly, his tone softening as he asks, “Has anyone else bothered you? I mean… not related to my situation?”

I furrow my brow. “No. In fact, I never saw that cosplay priest again—” I stop mid-sentence, the words catching in my throat as realization dawns.

I slowly look up.

Chance is sipping from his coffee mug, eyes twinkling with satisfaction above the rim.

I stare at him. “What did you do?”

He raises a brow.

I lift both hands. “You know what? No. I don’t want to know. And I don’t care.”

Chance huffs a small laugh.

I take a long sip of my coffee and meet his gaze. “Those motherfuckers can rot in hell.”

Chance lifts his mug in a silent toast.

I think back to that Halloween and the events that followed… and I blow out a breath. “And the burst pipe in my dorm building? The one that forced me to stay with you?”

He gives me a sheepish grin.

“Chance Sullivan, you—” I have to stop talking to fight off a laugh.

Another shrug.

“Jen could have easily let me stay with her, couldn’t she?”

Wink.

I sigh, but soften. “You’ve been protecting me from the very beginning, haven’t you?”

He reaches across the table and covers my hand with his. “I always will.”

He won't tell me more. I know he won't. Honestly, I don't need him to. I've never had someone protect me. Selfishly, I want to let him. I don't think he's going to give me a choice in the matter either way.

“Here we go,” the waitress says, setting our plates down.

“Damn,” Chance says, eyeing his plate. “I’m glad you ordered this. It looks delicious.”