Page 68 of Some Saviors Can Break You

“Eli, leave,” Florence ordered.

“You move, she dies,Eli,” he sneered. Florence was blocking him from getting a direct shot off at the man without also hitting Florence.

That he wasn't prepared to do.

Yet.

But if she gave him no other option, he wouldn’t discount it because one way or another, he was making her his.

Nineteen long years he’d waited.

When he closed his eyes each night, he could still picture the little blonde girl he’d first met when he’d gone home with her mother. The child had looked like a doll. She had delicate features and porcelain-like skin that had been as soft as it looked. Large blue eyes framed by long dark lashes dominatedher face, and her lips had been a light pink and shaped like a heart. Long blonde hair had cascaded down her back in loose waves that shimmered when she walked.

She’d been perfection.

By far the prettiest of all the little girls whose paths had crossed with his, and he’d contemplated keeping the child. What he’d do with her he had no idea, it wasn't like he could take her home to his wife and children, what excuse would he have given for who the child was and where she had come from?

Regardless of the risks of keeping little Florence, and the difficulties in explaining why she was suddenly in their lives, he had definitely considered the possibility. Maybe his uncertainty had made him slip up and not inject the correct amount of sedatives to knock the little girl out.

If it hadn't been for that mistake, she would probably have died because when push came to shove, he always chose safety over risk.

Toby knew that sounded odd given that he was a serial killer, which had to be the very definition of risky, but in reality, he was a very cautious guy. He checked both ways not once but six times before he crossed the street, he watched what he ate and counted calories every day, covered up in the sun, and waited a full thirty minutes before going in the water after eating. He also made sure that every child was properly cleaned before being deposited in the coffin, and that he wore a head to toe protective covering so he didn't leave any of himself behind.

It was his cautious nature that had allowed him to avoid detection for over two decades.

So why had he now thrown caution to the wind?

What was it about Florence Harris that had gotten under his skin?

Her china doll-like features?

Her sweet nature?

The fact that she’d had to fight for everything she had in life because she’d been handed a raw deal?

Whatever the reason, he couldn’t stay away.

He’d tried.

He had tried with everything that he possessed, reminded himself of the risks, and the consequences of continuing contact, but he just couldn’t stop. When she’d rented an apartment in this building, he’d rented the one across the hall so he could watch her whenever he wanted. As far as his wife knew he traveled a lot for work, and he supposed he did, only she had no idea that selling insurance wasn't what he spent the majority of his day doing.

Now he was standing in her apartment, pushed into claiming her because Eli Lennox had entered her life. No longer was she single, sitting in her apartment alone every night. Now when he tried to daydream about taking her for his own, he kept seeing this man intruding and stealing her away.

“Toby?” Florence’s voice dragged him out of his head. “You want to do the right thing here, I'm sure you do. You’ve been so very careful with everything you’ve done so far, it’s why we could never find you. WhyIcould never find you, so shooting Eli here and now isn’t the smart thing to do.”

“Don’t talk about me like I'm some helpless victim or something,” Eli growled, trying to move closer, but Florence moved with him, continuing to put herself between the two men.

“You were looking for me?” he asked, he hadn't realized that Florence thought about him at all except when he sent her letters. The idea that she had been as consumed by him as he was by her pleased him.

“Of course. What you did to me changed my life,” Florence said, also ignoring Eli. “I tried to find you, but all I knew was the fake name you’d given my mother. You made sure that we didn'thave anything to use to find you. Who are you, Toby? Do you have a wife? Children?”

Toby nodded. “I’ve been married for thirty-two years. My high school girlfriend and I got pregnant when we were sixteen. We married just before our son was born. It was the right thing to do.”

“Yes, it was. That must have been hard, having a child so young, you were practically a child yourself.”

Florence’s soothing tone spurred him on. “It was hard. I was one of eight kids, we were expected to work in my parents’ restaurant from the time we were old enough to bus tables and clean dishes. I went straight from working at my parents’ business and chores at home to having my own home, a wife, and a baby. More work. Diapers, teething, a colicky screaming baby keeping you up all night. Responsibilities, work, a marriage, all I’ve ever done was take care of other people, I never got to just be me, never got to go to college and get the job I wanted because I had a family to support.”

“You never really got to be a child, just run and play with your friends, climb trees, swim in the river, play a team sport, have sleepovers.” From the tone of her voice and the sad, faraway look in her eyes, he wondered if they were talking about him or her.

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