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“Still married to my old man. Going on almost thirty years now.”

Something flickers across her face but the shutters come down before I can figure it out. “That’s nice,” she says softly. “That they’re still together.”

I reach across the table without thinking, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She stills at my touch, those bright blue eyes locking onto mine. “What about your folks?”

“My mom died when I was twelve,” she says quietly. “It’s just me and my dad now.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, meaning it. I can’t imagine losing my mother. It would destroy me.

She shrugs, trying to look nonchalant but not quite pulling it off. “It was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.”

She looks surprised by my honesty, I’m a little surprised myself. I don’t usually give a fuck how women feel. I’ve always been a hit-it and quit-it kind of man, but something about Blue feels different. Shaking off the thought, I dig into my food.

We finish our meal in silence, and when Rachel brings the check, I snatch it up before Demi can even reach for it.

“I can pay for my own food,” she protests.

“I know you can,” I tell her, sliding a fifty into the leather folder without even looking at the total. “But you’re not going to.”

She looks like she’s gearing up to throw some more sass my way, but seems to think better of it. “Thank you,” she says softly instead.

“Don’t mention it.” I stand up, holding out my hand to help her out of the booth. To my surprise, she takes it, her small hand fitting perfectly in mine. I don’t let go as I lead her back outside to my bike.

The ride to her place is even better than the one to the diner.

She’s more relaxed now, her body molded against mine, her thighs pressing into the backs of mine.

I take a longer route than necessary, enjoying the feeling of her arms wrapped tightly around my waist, her chest pressed against my back.

My mind races with images of all the things I want to do to her.

Bend her over my bike, her dress hiked up around her waist; push her up against a wall, her legs wrapped around me; spread her out on my bed, taking my time to taste every inch of her.

My cock throbs painfully in my jeans at the thought.

When we finally reach her building, I park and kill the engine. The neighborhood is even worse than I imagined. No way in hell is this a safe place for her.

“Thanks for the ride,” she says, sliding off my bike and handing me back my helmet. “And for dinner.”

“I’m walking you to your door,” I insist.

She sighs but thankfully doesn’t argue as she leads the way up to the fourth floor.

The first thing I notice is the shitty lighting in the hallway, something that’s not safe.

Anyone could be waiting to jump her and she’d never see them coming.

My fists clench. That’s going to change very fucking soon.

I make a mental note to have Yukon come by this week and wire this place up.

Overkill? Yeah, probably, but I justify it in my head by the fact that she works for us and we take care of our own.

When we reach 4C, I freeze. The door is hanging off its hinges and there’s a boot print in the middle.

“What the—“ Demi gasps, but I quickly pull her behind me.

“Stay here,” I order, pulling my Glock from the holster at my lower back.

I move into the apartment cautiously, pushing the damaged door open with my foot. The place is trashed—furniture overturned, drawers emptied onto the floor, glass shattered across the linoleum. Someone has torn through her place looking for something.

“Dad?” Demi calls out, suddenly appearing beside me.

“Goddammit, I told you to stay in the hall,” I growl, scanning the apartment for threats.

She ignores me, moving further into the wreckage. “Dad!” she calls again, her voice high with panic.

Clearing each room quickly. No one’s here, but someone definitely wanted to send a message.

“He’s not here,” she says, her face pale as she pulls out her phone and dials a number. After a moment, she makes a frustrated sound. “Voicemail again.”

“Who would do this?” I ask, holstering my weapon.

She shakes her head, looking lost amid the destruction. “I don’t know. Maybe...” Her mouth snaps shut and she looks away.

I narrow my eyes. “Maybe what, Blue? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“Nothing,” she says too quickly. “Sometimes drug addicts break in looking for stuff to steal.”

I scan the apartment again. This wasn’t a random break-in. Someone was looking for something—or someone.

“That’s the second time you’ve lied to me, Blue.

It’s going to be the fucking last, you hear me?

” She looks away, but I can tell by her body language I’ve hit a nerve.

Good. She’s hit one too and it’s pissing me off.

I shouldn’t give a fuck about this girl.

Should leave her here to figure out her own shit, but I can’t.

“Pack a bag,” I snap. “You’re not staying here.”

Her head shoots up. “What? No, I can’t leave?—”

I crowd her space. “This isn’t up for discussion, Demi. This place isn’t safe.”

“But my dad?—”

I growl in frustration. Why does she have to fight me at every fucking turn? Doesn’t she realize this place isn’t safe. “Will have to find another place to crash tonight too,” I cut her off. “Unless you want to stick around and meet whoever did this when they come back.”

That gets through to her. Thank fuck.

She bites her lip, then nods reluctantly. “Fine. Give me five minutes.”

As she disappears into her bedroom, I pull out my phone and text Titan.

Klutch: Need everything you can find on Demi Cross. Lives at 4327 Dover Street, Apartment 4C. Someone trashed her place tonight. I want to know who and why.

His response comes almost immediately.

Titan: On it.

I slide my phone back in my pocket and watch as Demi emerges with a small duffel bag. Her face is a mask of forced composure, but I can see the fear in her eyes.

“Ready?” I ask, softer than before.

She nods, casting one more glance around the destroyed apartment.

“I guess so.”