Page 67 of Protecting Peyton

Marci spoke up again. “She said not yet.”

Grace cocked her head. “It’s up to you. I’ll call you an Uber whenever you want.”

I threw the paper away. “Thanks. I think I’m okay for now.” I inched toward the door.

“Are you in or out?” Grace asked Marci, who was still holding the door open.

I shouldered by Terry who’d followed Grace—bodyguard in the extreme.

Ten minutes later, I sat at my desk, with those damned flowers in a vase off to the side. I hadn’t done them the honor of giving them water. Screw the Strangler. Screw his flowers. I would have tossed them in the trash if I could have without being questioned about it. No, I would have torched them.

Marci had a can of hairspray in her desk. I would have tried the movie trick of making a flamethrower out of hairspray and a lighter—screw the smoke. That’s what they deserved.

Turning away from them, I started scribbling on my notepad, working out my plan for leaving LA. First, I needed money. I’d scratched out asking Grace, March, or anyone here. That would involve too many questions.

It was probably damn Frankie who stole my money. I thought about going home while he was at work and breaking intohiscondo to get my money back. But that reduced me to his level, and there were a dozen ways it could go horribly wrong.

Did Frankie have an alarm?

I had no idea. I also couldn’t be sure it was him.

If I had another week, no doubt March and Winston knew ways to pressure Frankie to give it back, or maybe they would just pick his lock and steal it themselves. I wasn’t interested in knowing their methods, only the outcome.

Marci looked my way, and I smiled, giving her a thumbs-up. The gesture worked to keep her in her seat so I could continue my planning. I pulled in a deep breath, and it took me a minute to blink back the tears that threatened. Leaving meant leaving Grace, Terry, and the rest of the Hawk crew, Marci, Paul, and yes, March—the man who’d made me question my no-men rule.

I sniffled. What would have happened between us if the Strangler hadn’t found me? I swallowed hard. Now I’d never know. God, this was difficult. I’d formed attachments here. One particular man would be harder to leave than all the rest. The bonds would be painful to sever, but running was the only way to stay alive.

Terry looked my way, and I gave him my best smile.

How had I been stupid enough to let March get under my skin like this?No menwas a rule for a reason, dammit. I’d let my defenses slip for one minute, and now I was paying the price. That damned kiss. Even now, I got tingly all over when I thought of it.

I considered going back to the ladies’ room to have a good cry, but decided that would have to wait. Time was precious, and the Stranglercould be outside right now, counting down the hours until I had to leave the safety of this crowd.

Wiping my eyes, I sat up straight and opened my browser to start the search for pawn shops.

“Peyton?” Terry took the chair next to my desk.

I minimized the browser with a sniff. “Hi.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I choked out. “Except I threw up.”

He’d certainly heard the discussion in the restroom.

“Why did you lie about breakfast? Duke told me you had Zane’s mom’s pancakes, not tuna casserole.”

Quick, Peyton, think.“I thought it would be bad manners to blame his mother’s cooking.” I even managed to say it like I meant it.

He appraised me for a second. His brow crease said he didn’t believe me.Damn these Hawk people and their ability to detect lies. He patted the desk and rose. “If you need anything, you only have to say the word. You know that, right?”

I nodded. “Of course.” He’d always been a stand-up guy. “What I need now is to get back to my work.” In reality, I was afraid I’d break if I had to lie to him again.

He sauntered back to his desk, and I brought my browser window up again.

I’d never sold jewelry before, but in the movies, that was how you turned excess belongings into cash.

Constance Collier from Hawk arrived. She looked my way briefly before zeroing in on Terry and striding toward him.