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I was, but I was just better at it than the fool with the rope. But I knew what she meant. “No. I wasn’t.”
Her gaze dropped to my midsection, and then darted to my hands. “No gut. No hair.” Her fists dropped a little, curiosity replacing the fear and anger. “So you weren’t trying to attack me?”
I shook my head. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn’t think you’d seen him.”
She scowled at me, shaking out her no doubt bruised fists that would match the marks on my face. “I can look after myself. I’m not that unobservant.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say she’d never noticed me in all the weeks I’d been watching her. But okay.
She eyed my bloody nose then sighed, opening the purse she had slung across her chest and taking out a package of baby wet wipes to offer them to me. “I don’t have a tissue, but these might help.”
I took them from her, careful not to touch her again, and retrieved a couple from the packet before giving it back to her. “Thank you.” I dabbed gingerly at my nose, wincing at the pain.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s always the big guys who are the biggest wimps,” she muttered, taking the wipes from my hand. “Give them here. You’re making it worse. Hold still.”
Like she hadn’t just been the cause of my injuries, and moments earlier fighting me off with everything she had, she stepped in close, pressed up on her toes, and peered at me in the dawning light while she cleaned blood off my face. “I was just doing what I thought I had to do to survive, you know. I had no way of knowing you weren’t the guy following me. You can’t fault me for that.”
“I didn’t ask for an apology.”
“Good. Because I’m not offering one.”
The woman was baffling with her confidence. How quickly she’d gone from thinking me the enemy to now tending to me like I was an old friend who needed her help. I suspected there was guilt behind her actions, even if she did refuse to apologize.
I didn’t need one. There were mere inches between us, and her warm breath misted over my lips. My dick kicked to life again, loving how close she was. Desire roared through me at the way she’d felt in my arms and the fight she’d put up. Fuck, she was beautiful, even more so than Annie had been. Where Annie had been quiet and docile, Lyric was sassy and strong.
The urge to dominate her and tame her sass was a bellow in my ears.
A flash of recognition lit her eyes. “I know you.”
And that was the end of it. Three little words that reminded me I was out of place. I’d moved instinctually when she’d been in danger, but that was over now.
I shook my head, turning away. “No, you don’t.”
Because nobody did. Not the real me.
Maybe she remembered the priest who’d watched her from a distance.
Not the monster who lived inside.
3
LYRIC
There was a man passed out in the hallway.
I didn’t recognize him, but his head tilted on an angle that made my neck twinge in sympathy. The scent of booze poured off him, sickly and unpleasant at this time of the morning. I poked him with the toe of the Ugg boots I’d worn home from the club, and he twitched, mumbling something incoherent. Satisfied I didn’t need to call the cops for a dead body, I continued to my apartment. It was ground floor, not ideal in the Saint View slums, but it was all I could afford.
A roof over our heads—any roof—was better than the alternative.
Peggy lifted her head from her morning crossword puzzle, smiling at me over the top of her newspaper. She was old-school like that, refusing to do them on her phone. “Morning, girl. You look like you had a hell of a night.” Her gaze narrowed on my busted-up fist, but she didn’t comment.
I slumped into a chair at the little round dining table I’d gotten for thirty dollars on Craigslist. It was scratched and beat to hell but steady, thanks to the folded newspaper shoved under one leg. “Don’t ask.”
Peggy folded her paper and gently placed it inside her oversized purse. “Sorry to pile on, honey. But your gran had a rough night, too.” The older woman gazed at me with kind eyes. “She’s getting worse.”
I sighed heavily. “I know. She didn’t recognize Amelia yesterday. Thought she was me as a little girl. It was upsetting. Amelia doesn’t understand, no matter how often I try to explain.”
Peggy crossed the room to put her hand on my arm, squeezing it gently. “Dementia is cruel.”
