Page 27 of Shadow Justice

His attention returned to her. Rain beaded on the shoulders of his jacket and darkened his hair. “I’m not trying to take apart what you built, Holly. I’m trying to understand how to protect it.”

The answer steadied something in her that had been wobbling all day. Holly looked back through the windows at the warm lights, the tables, the case she’d stocked with muffins and brownies, the mismatched mugs on the shelf behind the counter. He wasn’t wrong. That was the most annoying thing about him. He kept not being wrong.

They finished the patio and went back inside. Reid checked the lock, then the back entrance, the delivery door, the alley lights, the kitchen window, the office, the register, and the tablet linked to online orders. He asked how often Holly posted events on social media, and whether groups reserved tables through email, text, or casual conversation. By the time they reached the private stairwell, she felt as if he’d mapped the skeleton beneath Sanctuary’s skin.

“This door stays locked,” she said, touching the knob at the base of the stairs. “Only I use it unless Blue is going out with Roni.”

“Camera?”

“At the top.”

He followed her up the narrow staircase, and Holly became intensely aware of how private the space was. Downstairs, he’d been in her business. Up here, each step brought him closer to her life.

The stairwell was painted a soft cream with framed photos of Blue at various ages, and a print Roni had given her that read DOG HAIR IS A CONDIMENT. Holly had hung it as a joke and then refused to take it down because Blue deserved representation.

At the top landing, Reid looked up at the small camera mounted above her apartment door.

Holly pointed to it. “Motion alerts go to my phone. I can see the landing from the tablet downstairs and my phone. Blue hears anyone on the stairs before the camera notices them.”

Reid studied the angle. “Does it record continuously?”

“Motion-triggered.”

“Cloud backup?”

“Yes.”

He looked at her, and she lifted her brows. “I’m a single woman, not a helpless one.”

“I’ve never thought you were helpless.”

That answer took the sting out of her defensiveness. She unlocked the apartment, pushed the door open, and stepped inside before she could make a bigger issue of letting him in.

Blue met them at the door with a rope toy in his mouth. He jumped up on Holly, got a hug from her, then dropped the toy on Reid’s shoe. When Reid bent to pet him, Blue wagged so hard his hindquarters swung sideways.

“Do not reward him,” Holly said.

Reid bent and picked up the rope. “For bringing me a weapon?”

“For assuming every guest is here for his enrichment.”

“I can be here for security and enrichment.”

Blue made a happy huffing sound and bounced once, clearly in favor of the arrangement.

Holly closed the door and leaned back against it while Reid took in her apartment. She tried to see it through his eyes and immediately regretted it. The space was small, cozy, and lived-in. A galley kitchen opened into a living room with a worn blue couch, a round coffee table stacked with books and receipts, and a basket overflowing with Blue’s toys.

A narrow hallway led to her bedroom and bathroom. No guest room. No elegant distance. No way to pretend this was anything other than the place where she slept, worried, ate cereal over the sink, and talked to her dog at the end of the day.

Reid’s gaze moved over the room without judgment and landed back on her.

“I don’t have a spare room,” she said.

“The couch is fine.”

“You’re too tall for that couch.”

“I’ve slept in worse places.”