Page 15

CHAPTER 15

Tristan

Mrs. Abel excuses herself without a word. I follow her up the stairs, but she says, “You don’t need to follow me around inside the house.”

She needs some time alone after all that’s been happening, but I have to do my job. “To ensure your safety, I must be always aware of your location and make sure said location is secure. It’s in the job description. Literally.”

Anticipating her proud sass to pop, I brace for whatever comment she’s going to dish out to dismiss me, but she walks to her room without so much of a glare. “I’m just going to take a bath,” she mutters as she opens the door, hiding her face from me. “Maybe it’ll help me sleep a little.”

To help her sleep or free her tears without being seen? I can hear them in her voice. “Mrs. Abel—”

“Please, from now on, call me Birdie.”

“I… That’s gonna be very difficult for me to do, considering, you know, that thing that shall not be named.” She was my teacher. I’ve never called her by her first name before.

“You’d better get used to it because I don’t want to hear his name ever again, not if I can help it.”

“I understand. Are you okay?”

She steps inside her bedroom. “I’ll be fine, Mr. Morra.”

“C’mon now, for this to work, you gotta call me by my first name, too.”

She nods solemnly. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Tristan.”

A surge of anger jolts through me. First, she apologizes for crying, and now she apologizes for that piece of shit abusive husband of hers, who should be locked up for what he’s done to her. How badly has he messed with her head? Is it only him? Are there others before him that started the cycle? “Mrs. A—Birdie, I know you’re a woman that values her pride, but you should know that what he did is in no way a reflection of who you are. You can’t apologize for what he’s done. He’s responsible for the damage he’s caused. None of it is your fault.”

She finally lifts her eyes to mine. “Thank you…for not judging me. Your parents would have been so proud of you, of the man you’ve become. You’re very mature for your age.”

“I’m no longer nineteen. I’m a twenty-seven-year-old man. I should be that mature.” I don’t know why I had to say that. I should take her words as a compliment, but I end up in defensive mode, offended even.

She regards me for a while before her expression hardens. “I can see you are a man, but are you a violent man, Tristan?”

“Excuse me?”

“That anger I detect in your tone, does it come out solely every time my husband is in the conversation, or is it always there?”

My whole life has been a front row seat to the horrid games people play to dominate those they think are inferior. The threat, the potential of violence, I see it in everything, everywhere. “I’m a soldier, a guard, violence is part of my job, but it’s not who I am. I’m a protective man, Birdie. That’s why I don’t tolerate people like Blake Abel.”

“Is that why you punched him when you had him completely incapacitated? I don’t think that is in the job description.”

There it is, the sassy snark biting me back in the ass. In a way, I’m glad she’s no longer so distraught that she wants to hide in her room and wallow. That man doesn’t deserve her tears.

“Mature people know when to apologize, Tristan.”

“I agree, but I’m not sorry I punched your husband.” I cock a brow. “Are you?”

Her brief silence and the shadow of the smile on her lips satisfy me. “I was worried he’d hurt you and the team. He’s always armed. I’m surprised he didn’t draw his gun at you.”

I can’t help smirking as I reach into the back of my pants and bring out Abel’s gun. “The team and I can handle ourselves.”

Her eyes widen. “You took it from him?”

“The second he tried to lunge at you he became a violent threat that needed to be neutralized. I felt the gun he was hiding under his clothes when I grabbed him. Once he was secure in my grip, I disarmed him.”

“You’re so fast. All I saw was your immobilizing Blake and then punching him.”

“Fast is in the job description.”

She laughs under her breath. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

“It’s nothing.” Nothing compared to finally hearing her laugh after the daunting events that have been happening to her. That is my greatest accomplishment today.

“I’m getting a divorce, you know?” she whispers. “He’ll never grant me one on his own, so I’ve been consulting with a divorce attorney in secret. Yesterday when you found me, I’d just finished a meeting with her. No one knows about this yet, but it won’t be long before she sends him the papers.”

I’m elated she entrusts me with this information and relieved she’s leaving that monster, but underneath her words there’s something else. There are fear and shame, and a reason for sharing them other than confiding in me. “That’s wonderful news.”

“I know you don’t judge me, but it’s important for me that you know the woman you respect isn’t such a weak doormat that lets a man like Blake walk all over her without doing anything about it…or, at least, trying.”

“You’re afraid of what he can do to stop you, but I’d like to see him try. You will get that divorce, Birdie. You have my word.”

“You don’t know him. He’s capable of so much evil. You heard the things he said, how he tries to turn you against me. He always does that to anyone on my side he can’t control.”

“There’s nothing he can say or do that’s going to change how much I respect you or how much I want to be here to protect you.” I level my gaze with hers. “There’s nothing you can say or do that’s going to change that either.”

She folds her arms over her chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What happened after your call with your agent?”

Her lashes flutter, and then her jaw clenches. “See? Blake is already getting into your head.”

“No, Birdie, but something happened yesterday. It can’t be a coincidence the stalker sends you a note threatening to kill that writer the very same day you’re talking to your agent about her.”

“I’m tired, Tristan. We’ll talk later.”

She tries to shut the door, but I hold it and step inside. “As much as I’d love to leave you to get your much needed rest, this can’t wait.” I close the door, not leaving until I get answers. “There’s a woman’s life on the line here. What did she do to you that the stalker is set to kill her for you? What are you hiding from me?”

Her fingers rub over her mouth as she sits on her bed, and then she crosses her legs and looks me straight in the eye. “When you found the hidden cameras, you told me the stalker planted them the first time he was in my house and not yesterday when he left the second note. How did you know that?”