Page 86 of Fragile Sanctuary

“What is it? Smells amazing.”

“Mexican grain bowl. Got some leftover chicken, corn, black beans, sauteed red pepper, and onions. You can add salsa and guac if you want—homemade, of course.”

I chuckled as I crossed into the kitchen. “Of course.” I glanced around the space. “Trash can under the sink?”

“Yup,” Rho answered, then frowned. “Why?”

I held up the pink T-shirt. “I’m getting rid of this atrocity.”

She snatched it from my hand. “You are not.”

I arched a brow at her in question.

Rho hugged it to her chest. “It’s a memory.”

“Of me being shat on,” I grumbled.

She giggled. “Yes, but also of you helping me when I needed it. We’re not throwing it away.”

“All right. Do whatever you want with it.”

“I’ll wash it and use it as a nightshirt.”

Oh, hell.I didn’t need that image in my head.

I did my best to shove it down. I hadn’t let myself dwell on the consequences of this morning’s encounter. Wouldn’t let myself go down the road of what it could mean. But I couldn’t stop remembering the feel of Rhodes strangling my fingers, the breathy moans, the mark she’d left on my shoulder. And her taste. That taste would haunt me for the rest of time.

Get ahold of yourself.

I tried switching my focus to helping Rho with dinner. Tried not to look at any one part of her for too long while we ate. Because, somehow, any part of her was dangerous. From the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair.

Despite my obsession with Rho’s goddamn toes, dinner felt normal. All a little too routine. As if we’d been doing this for years.

Even the cleanup. We worked in tandem, rinsing dishes and placing them into the dishwasher. It was a silent dance we’d somehow already memorized the steps to.

“You get any updates from Trace?” I asked as I wiped down the kitchen counters.

There was a slight hitch in Rho’s movements as she put the detergent into the dishwasher. “Nothing, really. He’s interviewing people. Still waiting on results from the lab.”

I’d heard pretty much the same from Shep, but we still hadn’t gotten the fire reports. Something told me Trace was holding back on handing them over because he knew they’d end up in my grasp, and he didn’t quite trust me.

“You notice anyone hanging around who shouldn’t have been the past couple of days?” I couldn’t seem to stop myself from asking all the questions I would’ve asked in my former life. Couldn’t keep from trying to help, even if I’d failed spectacularly at it before.

Rho’s eyes stayed focused on the dishwasher, but she didn’t answer right away.

I stiffened, my hand stilling on the counter. “Reckless.”

She straightened. “My ex is being a douche canoe, that’s all. Trace talked to him because of our history, and Davis didn’t handle it all that well.”

My hand tightened on the paper towel. “What. Did. He. Do?”

“Anson.”

“Tell me, Reckless.” Just knowing he’d been in her space, causing her grief after everything she’d been through in the past couple of days, made me want to rip out his jugular.

Rho worried the corner of her lip. “I ran into him outside the bakery, and he made it known he wasn’t pleased that I’dsiccedmy foster brother on him.”

A muscle along my jaw jumped. “You mean your brother.”

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