Page 20 of Under His Watch

I left my room to find Romeo, hoping for a chance to tell him how grateful I was for Danicia’s help. It might not have seemed like a lot to him, but these displays of consideration were extravagant gifts, in my opinion.

“Romeo?”

I knew a guard had to be near. Romeo and Danicia mentioned one being stationed here. It made me curious—again—as to what organization Romeo worked for. A deadly one. But not law enforcement? He had a funny expression on his face when I asked if he was a hitman.

“But isn’t he one?” I whispered to myself as I searched through the house. If he killed three men, he had to have hunted them down quickly, then had the strength and know-how to pull off that feat. That meant he had resources of some kind.

Questions for later.The food on the tray had gone cold while I napped, so after I searched the upstairs levels, I headed down to locate the kitchen. Food would make me more clear-headed, and I doubted my stomach could grumble any louder.

Maybe I could make him lunch.I frowned, glancing at my watch.Uh, maybe an early dinner?I’d been sleeping so much that my routine was all out of whack.

I found the kitchen and cringed at how dirty and cluttered it was. My guesses seemed accurate. This was no ordinary messiness. It was the chaos of construction—or reconstruction. The house had good bones. I was no expert to know what I was talking about, but I noticed the spaciousness. Homes didn’t have such high ceilings like these anymore. And the huge windows let in so much light. Older features like crown moldings and ornate doorframes made me wonder how old this place was, and I smiled at the prospect of seeing it shed its outer shell of neglect and wear and tear to morph into a grand mansion again.

I sighed, looking through the fridge that seemed to have been updated. It wasn’t the right size for the nook it was shoved into, but it was new and functioning, offering the makings for a sandwich, at least.

Maybe he put this in so he can live here while it’s renovated?

Again, I tried to stem my frustration of having so many questions about Romeo. He looked fit and strong enough tomake this a DIY effort of renovation, but I still had no clue who the man really was.

Later. Food now, then when he’s back, I’ll ask more.

He’d been so gentle, letting me rest, and so giving to hold me without expecting anything at all. For all I didn’t know about Romeo, I was fully aware of the qualities that I liked in him so far.

Even the killing part?I cringed a bit as I set out the layers I’d want to make this sandwich complete, but as I turned to put the deli meat into the fridge, I froze.

Outside the windows I’d been admiring, a man crept along a row of hedges.

Fuck!Panic filled me so quickly, I was even faster to hold in a shriek. I’d been pushed onto this adrenaline rush so often lately that I was becoming used to managing it.

Fear didn’t root me in place as I stayed paralyzed and unmoving. If I could see him—and the second guy behind him—they could see me. Like a deer caught in the headlights, I held my breath and watched as they snuck along.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

I refused to lose my cool to terror, but I was frightened by their presence. Both of them looked tall, muscled, and grungy in bandanas, leather biker cuts, and raggedy jeans. These were no random trespassers, but members of a motorcycle gang.

What the hell aretheydoing here?

The Devil’s Brothers MC was a collection of assholes on bikes. The little I knew of them didn’t make me comfortable. They wererumored to traffic women and kids. They were always armed and looking so sinister to use their guns whenever they pleased.

Nina’s brother Ricky once bet with the leader, Reaper, at the Hound and Tea’s private gambling rooms. Because of that bet, Nina decided to be a Mafia boss’s fake girlfriend. The last I’d heard from her was how much she seriously wanted the older man.

Why are they here? What are they doing?I wasn’t informed of where the bikers usually terrorized people, but I couldn’t understand what they’d wanthere.

Did they see this place looking like a dump and think it’s a vacant home to squat in?

Are they just trespassing and looking around for something to do?

I didn’t know, but when one stood and held up a knife that dripped with blood, my heart raced faster. Air couldn’t enter my lungs fast enough.

That was fresh blood. It was still dripping, and I didn’t want to know what or who they’d killed or hurt.

How is this my life? Why is this happening?Questions flogged my mind, but I didn’t let them keep me locked up. Without moving all of my body, I extended my arm slowly and steadily. As soon as my fingers wrapped around the hilt of a steak knife wedged in the knife block, I pulled it out and held it tightly.

Keeping my eyes on the men, I inched back toward the wall.

Can they see me in here? Are the windows actually dirty enough that they’re not so clear?

Breathing through my nose, I strained not to make a sound. Not to make a big move. If they happened to turn and look through these windows instead of creeping closer to the ones that lined the rear wall of the dining room, I’d be spotted.

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