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“Who are you?” she hissed.
Zep slowly shook his head. “I’m no one.”
“Then why couldn’t you have stayed no one?”
Her mother had never told her about him, of that Zep was almost certain. Yet somehow, she’d worked it out. He could see it in her face and his heart beat out an uncertain staccato.
“Why are you here?” She hadn’t moved from where she stood in front of the windows overlooking the ocean. With the sun, sand and sea as a backdrop, Abby looked like an angel. And he was the fucking devil.
“You’re in danger.”
“You’re a little late to the party with that news.”
The girl was smart, and her boyfriend was a cop. Zep had no doubt she knew the name of the man who’d turned up on her mother’s doorstep. “Kypianos was just a scout. The real danger is coming.”
Abby cocked her head, looking him up and down. “Are you here to save me or kill me?”
“I’d never hurt you, Abby, or your mother.” The hypocrisy of that statement hammered at his skull; it was because of him that they were in danger.
As if sensing the lie, Abby rolled her eyes and a sneer curled her lips. “I thought you were in some motorcycle gang.”
He didn’t exactly look the part, without his cut. “Who told you that?”
She shrugged. “The police.”
Zep chuckled, despite himself. “Your boyfriend?”
Abby drew back ever so slightly, alarm registering deep in her eyes. “You need to leave.”
He took a step towards her. “We need to talk.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you.” He watched her eyes dart from object to object, probably looking for a way to defend herself.Damn, she’s fierce.
“Well, there’s some things you need to know, Abby.”
She threw her hands up, hovering above her ears as her shoulders hunched and she sidestepped the direction he was headed. “No, there’s nothing I want to hear from you. Just go away and take those pictures with you.”
Zep stopped short. Pictures? His eyes followed her as she put the island bench between them. What was she talking about? He stretched his memory back but couldn’t think of a time Rachel had taken a picture of him. He remembered her sketching him…
He dropped his head. Rachel had drawn pictures of him. Zep hadn’t seen any hanging on the walls, and he’d spent a decent amount of time admiring her work when he’d arrived at the cottage. Where did she keep them? What had she told Abby about him? Or the father she’d conjured up for her daughter?
“Why are you just standing there? Leave!” Her fury was back.
“I can’t do that, Abby.” He looked up to find her staring, open mouthed at him.
In the distance, a car door slammed.
“You need to go.” Her voice was low and even.
He sighed, but she cut him off before he could speak. “If Scott finds you here, he’ll have you arrested.”
His heart missed a beat, and then another, before stuttering to life. She was… protecting him?
“Never mind, I’ll go.” She grabbed her bag from the countertop and stalked towards the hall. The door opened and he heard muffled voices before the door closed and the lock turned, leaving him standing alone in Rachel’s cottage.
His skin suddenly felt too tight for his body. Zep, the hardened outlaw, stoic and unyielding, found himself grappling with a vulnerability he hadn't anticipated. He’d come face to face with a part of his life that he’d never known yet felt intrinsically connected to.
Abby was beautiful, so like her mother. There was a fire in her belly; one that he could lay no claim to. Again, she was her mother’s daughter. But her long blonde hair, shining like a halo under the sun, contrasted sharply with her dark eyes—eyes so reminiscent of his own.
