Page 180 of Property of Bob

“I might have.”

He nodded slowly.

“And then you started following me and breaking into my RV, which really didn’t help your case.”

“No.”

“You made yourself look a hell of a lot more dangerous than you actually are.”

Skull muttered, “That happens a lot.”

Anchor glanced at him. “What?”

“Idiots creating bigger problems trying to cover smaller ones.”

Anchor looked at Wade. “Also got a point.”

Wade sighed. “I know.”

I stared at him.

He immediately lifted his hands. “Sorry.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. This whole thing was ridiculous.

I’d driven across state lines. I’d slept with a knife within reach. I’d watched every vehicle behind me. I’d landed on Skull Island with barely three hundred dollars to my name and a dying RV because I’d convinced myself Wade Mercer was eventually going to do something terrible to me.

And he’d apparently been losing his fucking mind because he thought I had a spreadsheet that could send him to jail.

That didn’t erase what he’d done. It didn’t make following me okay. It didn’t make breaking into my home okay. And the fact he’d been trying to save his daughter didn’t give him permission to terrify me, but it did make him human.

Annoyingly human.

“Wade.”

He straightened.

“If I ever see that truck behind me again, we’re going to have a problem.”

“You won’t.”

“If you ever touch my RV again—”

“I won’t.”

“If you ever come looking for me again without calling first—”

“I won’t,” he promised.

“Fair.” I folded my arms. “You’re going back to Iowa.”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to stay there.”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to keep the books clean,” I stressed.