Page 43 of Protecting Peyton

“Frank Fussenbach has a rap sheet. Two arrests for burglary. One was dropped, and he got a suspended sentence on the second.”

Peyton gasped. “Do you think he’s the one? I mean, the one who broke in?”

“Hold on,” Jordy interrupted. “That’s not all. He has—as in still active—two restraining orders filed by different women, and a lewd conduct arrest that hasn’t gone to trial yet. This guy is a real peach.”

“Is that it?” I asked, hoping for even more to show Peyton how creepy this guy was.

“No arrests, but he’s been suspected in another four burglaries. He was dropped as a suspect in each of those after investigation. It looks like the cops have him on a usual suspects list they always check out.”

“Thanks for the time.” Now I didn’t feel bad at all for having asked Jordy to look into the dipshit. When I ended the call, I looked over at my passenger.

“Oh.” Peyton looked out the window, not meeting my eyes or defending her neighbor after that info dump.

CHAPTER 10

Peyton

I lookedout of the Porsche at the houses going by.

Apprehension had filled me the moment I saw my door broken in, and learning of Frankie’s past only made it worse. I’d been living next to this guy, and I’d been clueless. I was definitely not staying there tonight.

As I’d packed up clothes, my body had tingled where I’d pressed up against March and almost told him the truth. Even now, my body remembered.

He’d accused me of worrying that I wouldn’t be able to control myself around him. He had no idea how spot-on that accusation might be.

Was it fair that I couldn’t indulge myself in a fling with him? No, but rules were rules, and mine were meant to keep me breathing. Even after a shitty day, I had to stick to my rules.Rules keep me safe.

At some point, the cops would catch the Strangler and I would be able to let my guard down. I’d be able to go back home, restart my career, reengage with my patients—in short, I’d be able to live again. I’d even be able to date, if I had the time. That day couldn’t come soon enough for me. I’d been a prisoner to my very real fear for too long.

Listening to Frankie’s past had been a jolt to my system, but the most terrifying thing was knowing that my entire reserve fund was now gone and pawning Nana’s earrings was my only remaining way to leave town if I had to.

Since there wasn’t any sign that my pursuer had found me, I wouldn’t yet take that break-glass-in-case-of-emergency step.

I turned to March. “Thank you. I mean, for last night and for letting me crash with you tonight.” I hadn’t offered a word of thanks since leaving the condo, and he’d done so much for me and vowed to do more. None of this was license for me to have bad manners.

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t have anything else planned for tonight,” he joked.

At least, I thought it was a joke.

“Well, I really mean it. You’ve been very helpful and supportive.” The words sounded hollow as soon as I said them. He’d saved me from being terribly hurt last night by those two muggers. Bile rose in my throat as an image of the knife Shorty had wielded last night forced itself to the fore. “Let me try that again. What I mean is, thank you for saving me. The knife… It could have been… I might have… Just, thank you.” Why the hell was I so tongue-tied?

He braked for a stoplight and put a hand on my forearm. “You’re welcome.”

“I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

He returned his hand to the wheel as the light changed to green. “I think a kiss would be about right.” He nodded. “Yeah, a kiss.”

“You’re such a flirt,” I shot back. Deflection was my best defense. Maybe in the movies he watched, a kiss would be sufficient. In the books I read, things wouldn’t end with a kiss, and that was something I couldn’t risk.No men.

“So I’m growing on you?”

“Not even a little,” I lied. “I have ano menrule, remember?”

“So you said. Does that mean you’re refusing to repay your debt? Saving your life isn’t that big a deal? Is that it?”

“You’ll have to come up with something else.No menmeans exactly what it sounds like.” I couldn’t allow any attachments—not to a man, but not even to a close girlfriend.

Olivia’s face popped into my consciousness, and I cringed. She’d worked with me at the sandwich shop in Atlanta, and we’d quickly become close. Because she’d moved from Indiana to Georgia to escape her abusive ex, she’d quickly accepted my reluctance to talk about my past.