Page 19 of Preying Heart
A glimmer crosses his face. Is it surprise? Or do I fancy a grudging grunt of admiration? My heart is pounding so hard, I’m hoping he can’t see me sweat. It’s the first time I asked for assurance, even if it’s a token and I’m in a completely helpless situation.
He takes both of my hands the same way a groom takes a bride’s, joining hands as they make their solemn vows.
“I have a savior complex. That’s why I went into hiding. I can’t handle losing any of the women and children I rescued.”
“Youarea cop.”
“Ex-cop. Special unit tasked with sex trafficking.” His expression is stony. “It’s heartbreaking.”
“What’s your secret? Who did you lose?”
He presses his lips together, clamming up, and I know I hit a nerve too close to home. Again, his eyes take on that thousand-mile glaze, as if he’s recounting all his losses.
“Someone I cared about.”
It’s too vague, but I let it go for now. I can tell it hurts him to think about her—possibly a victim he got too close to.
“But you’re still doing this for the money, aren’t you?”
“Not really. I don’t need it. It could be a trap. Maybe you’re not as safe with me as you think. They could be after me—revenge. For every one I rescued, I either put someone behind bars or deprived them of their prey.”
ChapterSeven
Heath
I let Glock, my German shepherd, out the door after acquainting him with Remi. The two of them size each other up, and Glock is the first to break away, having decided she’s not a threat.
“How come he didn’t bark when we were out on the porch?” Remi asks, still staring at the dog.
“He’s trained to attack. Not bark.” I ruffle the fur on his neck. “He won’t hurt you once he knows you belong to me.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Belong to you?”
“Dog language. I’m the alpha, so he has to respect my mate.”
“Fine. Just keep him away from me. I’ve heard barking dogs don’t bite.”
“Oh, they do and they will. Glock will alert me if he needs my attention, but he prefers to take out the threat on his own. He’s military trained. Got him from a veteran buddy.”
“Didn’t know you had friends,” she huffs.
“Ouch, you got me there. Let me show you around.”
She’s got a sassy mouth, that’s for sure, one begging to be kissed or bitten. But it’ll have to wait. She’s a job and a problem to solve—for now.
I take her on a brief tour, warning her not to open any windows unless I disarm the alarm and showing her the kitchen and guest room. It shares a bathroom with my office, but it’s on the opposite side of the house from the master bedroom. “My quarters are off-limits. I keep it locked, as well as my office.”
“Heath, you don’t have to go over the rules tonight. I just want some food and a shower, and I’m hitting the sack.”
“Right. What kind of host am I to forget to offer you something to eat?”
“I’m betting you don’t have many visitors.”
“You got that right.”
“While you fix us something to eat, I’m going to take a shower,” she says.
The first thing I do when Remi goes for the shower is to pour myself a whiskey neat and check my security cameras and perimeter sensor logs. I go through each image carefully, resisting the urge to mass delete pages at a time. Most of it is wildlife—elk, deer, coyotes, a bobcat or two—but I can never be too careful or too thorough.
