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I force my feet to stay planted. I can’t say the same for my mouth. “Is there a patio? A back door?”
Bailey pauses, one hand on the door as she gives me a glance over her shoulder. “A small patio. There’s a sliding glass door. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
Because it’s a first-floor apartment with no security and there’s a sliding glass door and woods nearby and a guy who maybe is or isn’t as harmless as Roscoe.That’swhy.
“Okay. I’ll text you tomorrow so we can talk about … everything,” she says.
“Goodnight, Leelee.”
She smiles. “’Night, hockey player.”
I wait to hear the sound of her deadbolt engage before I jog back to my SUV and grab my phone, dialing Van and hoping he’s alone.
He answers on the first ring. “Yeah?”
“I need a favor,” I say.
“What kind of favor?”
“The kind involving being a bodyguard for the night.”
“Cool.”
What people may not know about Van is that he’s this guy. The one you call when you need a favor like this at this hour. The one who will say yes before he even knows what he’s being asked to do. Especially if it involves protecting someone. He almost rivals me in that department.
“I’m going to text you an address. Meet me there and wear warm clothes. If you have a sleeping bag, bring it. Two, if possible. Or blankets.”
Van laughs. “Are we camping?”
“More of a stakeout.”
I explain about bringing Bailey back home, the lack of security at her complex, and a strange neighbor who likes takingwalks in the darkness that just sohappento mean arriving home around when she does.
When Van speaks again, all traces of amusement are gone from his voice. “On my way.”
CHAPTER 9
Eli
The first thingI’m aware of is something nudging my thigh. A persistent push, growing slightly harder. A kick?
I groan, feeling the stiffness in my neck, then blink open gritty eyes to squint into painful sunlight.
I’m … outside? And based on the ache and cold in my lower half, sitting on concrete. That’s dumb. Why would I sleep outside when I have a top-of-the-line mattress at home?
Then the reason floods me. Bailey. Her safety hazard of an apartment complex. The memory of her neighbor stepping out of the shadows like the creepy love child of Gumby and Gabe. Gumby Gabe—a much better name thanJesse.
My hand closes around the sneaker-clad foot nudging my thigh. I blink up at Bailey, who is glaring down at me.
“Why are you sleeping outside my apartment?”
Van chooses that moment to saunter around the side of the building, covering a yawn with his hand. His dark hair, which he’s been growing out, is sleep mussed, but otherwise, he looks alot more awake than I feel. There’s a sleeping bag slung over his shoulder and, surprisingly, a book under one arm.
Van reads books?
“Since we’re all awake and happy now”—Van’s steps slow, and he stops completely when he takes in Bailey’s expression, now spearing through him—“or at leastawake,am I done with guard duty? I need to take a leak, and it felt disrespectful to let loose on the patio plants.”
