Sinful Protector

by Mia Ford

  I glance at Grant. He’s giving me a hard look, his eyebrow raised. I wince. There’s no escaping that look.

  “Whose apartment is this?” Grant asks.

  “Allison’s,” I mutter.

  “What?” Grant asks.

  I glare at him. He’s doing this just to torture me, I know it.

  “Allison’s,” I say, louder this time.

  “Huh, I should have guessed,” Grant says cheerfully, slapping me on the shoulder. “What the hell are you doing outside her apartment? Did she throw you out on your ass?”

  “No,” I snap. “If you must know, I’m just keeping an eye out.”

  Grant looks confused for a moment, and then his expression clears.

  “Is this about that Jesse guy?” he asks. “Has he been around here?”

  “Yeah, twice,” I grumble. “Once to do some graffiti, and then next time to leave Allison an envelope of fucking photos with her eyes poked out on each one.”

  “Creepy,” Grant says, making a face. “This guy sounds like real bad news, Kyle. Maybe you shouldn’t get involved. Have you called the police?”

  “Allison did, about the graffiti,” I say, gesturing at the building; the letters are still there until the landlord can afford to get them cleaned off. “She said she was going to tell them about the photos. But they fucking fobbed her off last time, so I don’t think it will do much good this time.”

  Grant nods grimly. While I don’t like the police because I never see them doing anything useful, Grant has an entire other reason to hate them. I’ve never figured out what, exactly, happened, but I know it has something to do with a false arrest and butchered evidence that could have cleared everything up in a heartbeat.

  “Sounds like you can’t really rely on them,” he says, his voice hard. “What’s Allison going to do?”

  “She’s talking about looking for a new apartment,” I say. “On Saturday night, we looked through apartments that were nearer the college, which is at least busier, even at night, but they’re all so damn expensive. She can’t afford that alone, not while she’s working a job at a fucking grocer’s.”

  “Why don’t you move in with her, and pay half?” Grant says, sounding amused.

  I snarl at him.

  “That won’t work,” I say tightly. “I’m still a stranger, and so is she. We can’t just move in together.”

  I won’t say I haven’t already considered this possibility and come up with all the reasons why it’s a bad idea right now. Allison might be okay with me occasionally staying on her couch while she’s feeling vulnerable, but that’s a little different to moving in together.

  “Sorry, sorry,” Grant says, holding his hands up in a peaceful gesture. “I guess I struck a nerve. You’re right, that was stupid.”

  I settle, grumbling.

  “I’ll help her move when she’s ready,” I say. “Hopefully we can keep it from Jesse for as long as we can. She doesn’t have a car, so as long as he never goes inside the apartment, he’ll never know she moved.”

  “What if he is going into her apartment?” Grant asks.

  “I would have noticed,” I say instantly.

  “I hate to say it, but no, you wouldn’t have,” Grant says carefully. “You aren’t here all the time, you know. How do you know he hasn’t been here during the day, while you’re at work?”

  I turn to glare at the front door of the apartment. It’s an old building that doesn’t even have a lock, because it’s rusted through and the damn landlord is too cheap to replace it. I know Allison was going to lobby for a camera at the door, but I doubt that will ever happen.

  “I don’t,” I say finally, sighing. “And I can’t be in two places at once. I wish I knew what to do, Grant. I know Jesse is dangerous, and even Allison is starting to figure that out. Those pictures…”

  I shake my head. Even if Jesse was just messing around, the threat in them had been truly horrifying. I would punch him for it even if it was all just a sick joke.

  But I don’t think it’s a joke. I think the threat is very real. Which is why I spends my nights outside Allison’s apartment, making sure he doesn’t get anywhere near her until she’s ready to leave.

  “How easy is it to break into the individual apartments?” Grant asks.

  I look at him incredulously. “How would I know?”

  “You should,” Grant says harshly, and I draw back. “The front is unguarded. All that’s left to stand between each occupant and a robber is a door lock. Is it strong enough to withstand a break-in? If you can answer that question, then you’re doing everything you can.”

  I wince. My knee-jerk reaction to that question had been horror, though I know Grant well enough to know that he would never bring up my past without permission. It was bad enough that I used to be a delinquent, breaking into stores and homes, before Old Man Brooks caught me trying to steal one of his cars one night. If it hadn’t been for him, I have the feeling I would be in jail by now. I really owe that old man.

  I sigh and stuff my hands in my pockets.

  “It’s not the strongest,” I say reluctantly. I don’t like noticing this stuff, because it reminds me of how far I fell as a teenager. But it’s hard to stop my mind automatically cataloging the best ways to break into different places. “It’s a little hard to lock, sometimes, and you have to shake the door to get the lock to slide into place. The hinges are pretty fragile.”

  “And the windows?” Grant presses.

  I hunch my shoulders. Of course I’ve noticed them, too.

  “She’s on the second floor,” I try.

  “If you’re determined enough, you can get up there,” Grant reminds me.

  Don’t I know it.

  “No locks,” I say after a long moment. “Allison always closes them at night, and they squeak badly when we open them, so you wouldn’t be caught off-guard if someone tried to sneak in that way. On the other hand, a little oil would probably fix that if you knew what you were doing.”

  “So, you have an apartment that’s really only protected by the awful sounds everything makes,” Grant says with a nod. “According to what you’ve told me, Jesse doesn’t sound like the brightest spark, so you might not have to worry too much about him finding the clever ways in.”

  “That was my thought,” I say, nodding back. “I’ve been thinking about installing a camera outside Allison’s door – with her permission – while we wait for the landlord to get back to Allison. That way she can see who comes up to her front door.”

  “They’re expensive,” Grant says.

  Yes, and Allison came up with the same argument. But it doesn’t matter. I have some money saved up. I can buy it for her and, if I just turn up with it one day, she can’t exactly tell me to take it back, especially if I open the box and break the seal on it.

  I just need to find the time, between work and guarding the apartment, to go and have a look at them.

  “What are you planning?” Grant asks suspiciously.

  “Nothing,” I say hurriedly.

  Grant glances at me, suspicious. Then he sighs.

  “Well, regardless, it doesn’t sound like you’re having much luck out here,” he says. “You’d be better off going searching for him and making him stay away.”

  “If I go searching for him, he’ll probably just turn up here,” I point out.

  Grant grunts, accepting that. “Why don’t we put the guys on it, then? We can sniff the bastard out and send him running for the hills.”

  The idea is very tempting.

  “Lots of guys will be willing to help you out with this,” Grant continues.

  “You think?” I ask, grinning. “Fine. You know what, put the word out. And if they find him, I don’t care what they do to him. They can throw him off a cliff for all I care. Just make sure he never comes back here again.” I snort. “It would probably be better if he just goes ‘missing’.”

  I hear a clatter as something is dropped. Grant and I look up. Allison is standi
ng at the mouth of the alley, staring at us in slowly dawning horror.

  For a moment I don’t understand what’s wrong. Then I think about what she just overheard. I open and close my mouth. I want to tell her that I was only joking around, that I wasn’t serious. But I can’t make the words leave my mouth.

  Because I was serious.

  “Allison…” I say.

  “No,” Allison snaps. “I can’t believe… What the hell, Kyle? How can you talk so casually about killing someone?”

  I feel Grant sidling away. I wince.

  “I don’t…” I start.

  “Stop,” Allison snaps, putting her hand up. She looks betrayed. “I thought…” She shakes her head. “I think I seriously misjudged you, Kyle. You’re not the person I thought you were.” She looks at me, her eyes shining. “Would you really be willing to…?”

  Lie to her, my mind whispers.

  But I can’t. I haven’t lied to Allison yet, I’m not about to start now. I look at her helplessly, and she reads the answer in my eyes. She takes a step back.

  “I didn’t realize that that was the sort of person you were,” she says quietly. “But I should have known. Go back to your gang, Kyle. I don’t want to see you around here again.”

  She’s gone before I can say anything more. She leaves behind the bag she dropped. It’s full of chips and packs of popcorn, everything we would have needed for a movie night. She must have been on her way home when I messaged her, and she stopped at the store to grab some snacks for us. Slowly, I pick up the bag.

  “Fuck,” I groan.

  “Sorry,” Grant says quietly.

  “Not your fault,” I say, drawing in a deep breath. “It’s mine. I should have been more careful.” I pause. “I should have told her more about me before now.”

  Grant claps a hand on my shoulder. “Do you still want us to look for Jesse?”

  “Yeah,” I say, staring at the ground. “Tell them…don’t approach him. Let me know where he is first. I’ll…figure something out.”

  Grant nods. He hesitates, as though he wants to say something, and then he turns and leaves, clapping me on the back once before he goes. I stare at the bag in my hands.

  It’ll be okay. I’m not surprised Allison is mad but…I can fix this. I think. Or maybe not… The look in her eyes is going to be hard to forget. She really looked at me, in that moment, like I was scum.

  I close my eyes. I’ll fix this. Somehow.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Allison

  I’m not surprised when there’s a knock on my door barely ten minutes later. Of course Kyle followed me home. I consider not answering it, but then I grit my teeth and stalk over to the door, throwing it open.

  “What?” I snap.

  Silently, he holds out my bag of groceries.

  “You dropped this,” he says quietly.

  Stiffly, I take it. I don’t really want it anymore. Then again, there’s some good quality snacks in there. I can stuff myself with them tonight in order to forget all about Kyle and the ease with which he could talk about making Jesse go “missing”.

  “Look, Allison, I’m sorry,” he says.

  “Are you?” I ask frostily.

  “What?” he asks.

  “Are you sorry?” I repeat. “Are you sorry you said it, or are you sorry that I overheard you?”

  He winces. I know that’s my answers.

  “What if I hadn’t overheard you?” I demand. “I would keep looking over my shoulder for Jesse, and all the while you’ve casually arranged for him to meet some sort of accident to remove him from my life. Do you think that would make me happy?” I can hear my voice raising. Mrs. Phillips would probably come and bang on my door later. “This is exactly the sort of thing I’ll be trying to get convicted in court!”

  He winces again and runs a hand over his face.

  “I’m not a killer,” he tries.

  “Could have fooled me,” I snap. “How many others have you arranged to go ‘missing’?”

  “None,” he says, and there’s a pleading note in his voice, begging me to believe him. “I swear, Allison. I had a rough past, but I’ve never killed anyone.”

  “Then why would you say that?” I ask coldly.

  Kyle hesitates, and then he sighs.

  “Because I hate him for what he’s done to you,” he says bluntly, and I lean back, surprised by the passion in his voice. “I wasn’t lying. I don’t care where he ends up. I just want him out of your life.”

  For a moment I’m stunned by his sincerity. I know he’s telling the truth. In the back of my mind, part of me is swooning, wanting to hear more.

  The rest of me, the more logical part of me, is slowly getting angry.

  “Seriously?” I ask in a low voice. “So, you’re okay with turning a blind eye to murder if it means you won’t have to dirty your hands? You do know the assassin’s client is just as culpable as the assassin, don’t you?”

  He grimaces. “I’m aware.”

  “Maybe you’re angry and you said something you didn’t mean to,” I allow. “But that message will get passed on, and someone who doesn’t mind killing will find Jesse and remove him. Then what? You’ll be a party to murder because you started it.”

  I search his face, looking for some kind of shame, something to tell me that he’s upset that he could be causing something like that. But he just looks stressed that I’m angry at him, and I realize that, as long as Jesse leaves me alone, he doesn’t care what happens next.

  The idea that Kyle would be willing to go to those lengths to protect me is, frankly, horrifying. I step back.

  “Please leave,” I say, my voice hollow.

  “Allison,” he tries.

  “Leave!” I demand. “I need to think.”

  Kyle looks conflicted. But then he sighs and nods.

  “Don’t come back,” I warn. “If I see you around here when I told you to leave me alone, I’ll call the police on you. Don’t even go creeping around that damn alley.”

  His face twists into a grimace, but he nods. I slam my door shut and drop the bag of groceries to the floor, running for the window.

  Five minutes later I hear an engine starting up. I watch the alley carefully, and a motorbike roars out of it. Kyle is wearing a helmet now, but I recognize his bulk, even if he’s hunched over the handlebars. Seconds later, he’s gone, the roar of the engine disappearing into the distance.

  I sigh and draw back from the window.

  Now what?

  Oddly, the apartment feels strangely lonely. Which is ridiculous, because I was here by myself both last night and on Sunday night. Then again, I knew Kyle was outside, carefully keeping watch, so I wasn’t actually alone.

  I grimace. Damnit. Looks like I’ve somehow gotten used to Kyle being around.

  He’s only been in your life less than a week, I remind myself. It’s stupid to get attached.

  But I am attached. I’m an idiot who decided to feel safe in the arms of a stranger. I should have just thanked him and gone on my way last week. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about problems like these, where worrying aspects of Kyle’s personality suddenly come up.

  I believe him when he says he’s never killed anyone. I’m curious about this “rough past” that he mentioned, but not enough to call Kyle back. I can live without knowing it. Right now, I just want to lick my wounds in peace and pretend that I wasn’t such a damn fool.

  My phone dings in my pocket, and I look at it. It’s Jacqui.

  “What movie?”

  In the last message I sent her, I told her that Kyle and I were going to sit and watch movies tonight. I slowly sit on the couch and stare at the message before replying.

  “No movie anymore. Kyle went home.”

  There’s no reply for a long time. Just as I’m about to put my phone away and ignore it, it rings in my hand. I start and pick it up.

  “Hello?” I say.

  “What do you mean he went home?” Jacqui yells, and I flinch, p
ulling my phone away from my ear. “Did something happen? Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine,” I say sharply. “I sent him home.”

  “...What?” Jacqui says, sounding lost. “Why?”

  “Because…” I trail off. It suddenly feels petty to say “because I discovered something about him that I didn’t like’”.

  “Did you guys have an argument?’ Jacqui presses.

  “Sort of,” I hedge. More like I yelled at Kyle and he just let me. “I might have told him I’ll call the police if I see him around here again.”

  There’s shocked silence on the other end.

  “Is this about him stalking your home?” Jacqui asks, hushed. “Because I thought you were okay with it?”

  “I was,” I say. I know I’m not making a lot of sense, and I’m not surprised that Jacqui’s very confused. But my thoughts are all really muddled right now; I’m still trying to figure out what I’m feeling. “I just overheard something, and then we argued, and…”

  I shrug helplessly, forgetting that I’m on the phone and that Jacqui can’t see it. I can’t almost hear her mulling over what I’ve said, trying to figure out what’s going on.

  “Alright, I’m going to need you to start from the beginning,” she says. “Last I heard, you were buying movie snacks, and now you’re threatening Kyle with the police. What happened that could have been that bad?”

  “I…” I draw in a deep breath. “I got home and Kyle was in that alley, with his bike. But he had someone with him, someone with the same jacket.”

  “Okay,” Jacqui says slowly. “But you already knew he was part of a club.”

  “It was probably a bit of a shock to see someone else with the jacket,” I say, thinking about the odd feeling I got when I saw the other man in an identical jacket to Kyle’s. It had really hit home that Kyle was actually part of a club of motorcycle enthusiasts. Then I remember calling them a “gang” to Kyle’s face and I wince. “Anyway, they were talking about Jesse.”

  “He must have been one of Kyle’s friends, then,” Jacqui muses.

  “Probably.” I hesitate. I know I’m beating around the bush, and I’m surprised that Jacqui isn’t more impatient as she waits for me to get to the point. “The other guy asked Kyle what to do about Jesse if they found him, so they must have been planning to look for him. Kyle told him… He said he didn’t care what happened to him, he just wanted him out of my life. He strongly implied that he wouldn’t even mind if Jesse was killed.”